Ideas live, creators die
An idea is born but instead of metamorphosing into words and emerging as a story, it chooses to run inside the body until it finds an outlet. The idea comes out as a tear-drop that spreads and covers the body in a vicious grip until the creator dies. The idea lives for ever. ...
I promise not to make you read
I know I have promised not to make you read… and this post stands up that promise. The only thing you’ll read are a few directions so you don’t remain confused while you’re here. Look at the picture below. Think about it. Make some conclusions. Write your conclusions in the comments below. There you are…...
I love being Sophie!
‘I’m Sophie,’ she said, ‘and I have the memory of an elephant.’ But then she wasn’t Sophie. She wasn’t Kara either, nor Bhakti, nor Neha, nor any of the tens of other names she was fond of linking with herself. That day, however, she was Sophie. So I will call her Sophie. Barring forgetting her...
The case of the hairy murderer
It was a cold and foggy early January afternoon. There were dark clouds in the sky and yet to us the day was far from dreary. There was intrigue in the air and we were out in the city aiming a closer re-look at the murder scene. ‘I wonder why the killer left the surly...
