I have always loved sports. Not for the medals, but for what they do to you. As a child, I spent more evenings on grounds than at the study table. On athletics days I learned how to start and still push when the pain begins. Cricket, though, was different. It was a family ritual with my father and brother invested, while I absorbed and learned from the screen and their discussions.
Continue reading When history was written at the stroke of midnight
Do I think about him you ask? I don’t. I cannot. Because thinking is a conscious action. Something mindful and knowing. He is innate. He is always there. Somewhere. In my gestures. In my words. In my emotions. In my moods.
They say home is where the heart is. But what if your heart is scattered all over the place ? At every walk of life right from birth, we meet people and give a part of our heart to some of them. Is this why I can never really “feel at home” ? Continue reading Short Prose – Theme: Good-Bye?
