Life or death

“There must be something in books, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.”

― Ray Bradbury


Animesh Photography©

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Fiction smothered life

she believed that somewhere across the darkness kissed void of the universe lived someone who would brave the cosmic rays just to love her..

she was never stalked by the feeling of absence of a friend as fictional characters flirted with her every night..and,although her room was barely 100 sq. feet,however she found her world inside the old wooden bookshelf which stood in the corner of the dilapidated room,the yellow pages in it were dying yet,it kept her alive..

Yes, like her, each one of us are just an omnibus of the books we have fallen in love with!



Artwork by Fernando Vicente

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Graveyard of broken dreams

I craved a love so deep,

that when our souls locked hands, even affection couldn’t slip through..

but, our world, where all that love does is weep, you & i, he & she, all making love under the lamp of our own ego, and all we ever did, was hold the sword that would defend us by the sharp end..

and, now as I dwell in my castle of loneliness..i still crave for the smear of your lust spread across my bedsheet, which was once our voyage to infinity..

every night, as the curtain of darkness fell upon us, the moon silenced the earth to listen to your 2 a.m secrets & fetishes..

yet amidst all the envy & stale dreams, I swear that the dust that I am returned to, to even the withered flowers that will once decorate my tomb will love you entirely, from the taste of your sweat to the collarbone from which it dripped from..



(photography and writing both mine)

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Walking down an alley

how amazing human beings are..

some find calmness walking down a busy alley..

yet, some crave for silence, failing to escape the chaos of a moonlight night..staying up late to safeguard the clock., where two strikes of the pendulum comprised of more secrets than her lips ever uttered..

the thoughts were ink..the moon was the half written book..



(photography and writing both done by me)

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Music engraved life.

“♪oh, when I look back now, that summer seemed to last forever♪”, and suddenly a myriad of memories sheathed the I once loved a dinner with parents, how fear crept in while dad slowly faded away through the school bus window..

and now, the darkness of the night only comes down to us, hopelessly staring at our cellphone screens, trying to make sense of our loneliness..

and, someday in the near future, while we are still drunk on meliorism, everything will come to an end…

then the exploding supernovae will whisper the universe a story, how science blew out the candle of love..




So, this is the ground where I grew up playing soccer. While we played, we always had one spectator who never got tired looking at our amateurish play. As the sun set gradually each day, and the streetlights lined up at the edge of the field glowed with more intensity, an intensity strong enough to call us home, this man still stood there to offer us his last few glasses of desi lemonade which was enough to satisfy our thirst,

…and his tomorrow!