Long after the sun’s set I release a breath of self-proclaimed misery and let out all those dreams that couldn’t be true I let out a breath of restless hope as I prepare myself for the scarce crumbs of comfort that night brings on will I be in your arms again and cry a river,…Read More
ग़म तो जनाबइस बात का है कीनिगाहों में जिनकी हमताउम्र रहना चाहते थेउन्हें नज़रों से गिरने मेंज़्यादा वक़्त न लगाहम सपने बुनते रह गएऔर वो दबे पाओं दग़ा दे गएRead More
“I don’t allow myself
to doubt myself
even for a moment.”
Author: Stephen King | Genre: Horror | Pages: 320 | Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton A game. A husband and wife game. Gerald’s Game. But this time Jesse didn’t want to play. Lying there, spreadeagled and handcuffed to the bedstead while he’d loomed and drooled over her, she felt angry and humiliated. So she’d kicked out hard. Aimed to hit…Read More
bright was the day once the tunnel was gone you don’t change the road but wait for the storm to pass ***** #badbookthiefpoetry Find a whole bunch of my pieces on Instagram. Just visit the link below.Read More
someday, my love we shall walk hand in hand down the golden shore up the hills so grand we shall marvel at a sky so blue and map fields far and few… someday, my love we shall let raindrops tickle our feet and arouse our senses with lasting ecstasies… someday, my love this distance won’t…Read More
शाम को जबपंछी घर लौटते हैंउन्हें देख दिल कोदिलासा दे देते हैंमेरा आंगन न सहीकिसीकी तो बगियाआज रोशन हुईRead More
these lips chant your name the cracks in them crave to be healed again * * * * * #badbookthiefpoetry Find a whole bunch of my pieces on Instagram. Just visit the link below.Read More
your memories cling to my very skin it is hard to tell where I end where you begin they crawl all over me sparing not an inch not even the air I breathe their whispers ring through autumns and springs my mind is tormented by the epiphanies they bring days dissolve into nights with such…Read More
they sat there freezing waiting for their coffees on a cold winter eve as time stood still whispering through mist promises they brewed and lived a thousand forevers that would never come trueRead More
Author: Shamar M. McFarlane | Genre: Poetry | Pages: 180 Fallen is a book that illuminates the idea of a loss of divinity or what we would call innocents. Every word, every line and every page means something different. They have the power to guide those who haven’t yet found their way but also can…Read More
2021 was a year of rereads. I did not have any massive reading goals because I was mostly just rereading my old favorites. Even so, I read a total of 60 books out of which 32 were some old classics and contemporaries that I was revisiting, and remaining 30 were new titles. Among those 30,…Read More
Author: Raghav Khanna | Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Food | Pages: 220 This is a tale of self-discovery of a young girl, Sita, from the Himalayas, who forges her own path to success, with determination as a chef, starting from a small kitchen in Himachal to becoming a professional chef at a gourmet restaurant in London.…Read More
“What, I ask, drives me to disorder?
How can I diagnose myself?
All I feel, most immediately,
is the most anguished need
for physical love and mental companionship.”
“Dumbledore watched her fly away,
and as her silvery glow faded
he turned back to Snape,
and his eyes were full of tears.
“After all this time?”
“Always,” said Snape.”
Author: Priyam Acharya | Genre: Poetry | Pages: 196 ‘The Way that We Are’, is Priyam Acharya’s second collection of free verses. Developed and written almost entirely during the year of the pandemic, every work in the compilation offers a perspective into the vulnerable side of human beings – making us the way that we,…Read More
After a month-long hiatus, I have planned to be back on track with my reading. One good thing that happened amidst the avalanche of tragedies was that I received quite a few books on my birthday last month. MY TBR or to-be-read pile includes all these books and some more. Most of these books are…Read More
July, so far, was the only month this year that I met my reading goals. There were some really good titles I read and I know I am going back to them soon. There were some others that had room for more entertainment. But overall, a fantastic reading month. Yes! Usually, I try to read…Read More
When she’d kissed him, she had surprised herself. It had been such an impulse – the way she sometimes reached out to catch a stray leaf on the wind, or jumped a puddle on a rainy day – something done without thinking or resisting, something pointless and harmless. She had never done anything like that before and never would again, and looking back on it, she would forever be surprised at herself, and a little shocked. But at that moment she had known, with a certainty she would never feel about anything else in her life, that it was right, that she wanted this man in her life. Something inside her said, “he understands what it’s like to be different.”
The cat had been thrown in the by-lane, and when Mir Nihal went out in the evening he saw that she was not dead after all. She had licked the water from the gutter and had come back to life. So does life inflict wounds on men, thought Mir Nihal, and looking grey for some time they become whole and hale again. Fate treats human beings with cruelty and is unconcerned. Death takes lives, parts lovers, bereaves mothers and children, husbands and wives, and , with callous indifference, goes about her ravagers with the hard-hearted grace of a fell beloved who prides herself on breaking both hearts and homes.
Writers remember everything…especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he’ll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels. A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar.
Art consists of the persistence of memory.