A story is only as good as the storyteller.





 (It would mean a lot to me if you took the time to read this particular article.)

It’s five in the morning right now; I’ve been awake since three. The thing is I have been thinking, worrying mostly. I would like to say that I’m worried about poverty or income inequality or world hunger or even terrorism, but I’m not, I have matters closer to home that need my urgent attention. I’m worried about my future. It’s not like I don’t worry about the other stuff but the other stuff doesn’t break me, it doesn’t cripple my desire to live my life the way it’s supposed to be lived. It doesn’t stop me from being the person I wish to become; it drives me to want to be more.

You see I’ve been alive for nineteen years now and I like to think I see things different from most people. I’m not saying that I’m smarter than anyone else or that I even know how the world works. I’m not making any grand claims of some innate knowledge that is forbidden to others. Heck I’ve always been an average student who sucks at math more notably than other subjects. What I am trying to say is that I try to think about the stuff that I see other people ignoring. The bottom line is I like to think, you can call it daydreaming or whatever else that suits your perception of me developed through your assessment of the way I write.

I enjoy blogging because it provides me with a platform where I can convert my thoughts to something useful rather than remaining idle thoughts. It provides me with an opportunity to transform my dreams into works of fiction which I think other people enjoy reading. It gives me joy to think that there’s someone halfway across the world, a stranger, who smiles at a joke I made or who cries because of something inexplicable in my writing that may have touched something inside him or her that made that person feel something or help him identify a feeling he/she hadn’t realized was there to be felt. That’s all I wish to do. I want to make people feel; to share in what were once idle thoughts running through my head. That is what blogging is to me. That is what writing is to me. And that is the work that I wish to do. I wish to be free to think and to write. I may be young but I like to think I am wise. I may be careless but I like to think that’s its simply because the things that mean so much to you mean nothing to me, but for you I’ll try.

But reality has to intervene at some point. I can’t keep on blogging simply because I wish to. It’s not a hobby for me and as yet I don’t think that I have approached it as a professional. But I’d like to keep on going, simply because I enjoy doing so. There are tens of thousands of others like me that use platforms such as Word press to share their thoughts with the world and I have to say that it’s a thriving community. The blogosphere is full of talented people who spend years honing their craft and yet true success is a rare thing. There are many people who blog just for themselves. I am not one of those people and at the same time I am one of them. I blog so that other people know what it is that I would never have been able to convey in front of a microphone but can easily do so on a sheet of digital paper, something which I believe is worth sharing, something beautiful and useful and a product of my mind.

I want you ‘dear reader’ to share this article with the world. I want you to help me continue what I am doing because you have the power to do so simply by clicking a button. I want you to share my thoughts with that stranger halfway across the world. You’ve seen me come this far, for you I’d like to go farther, because it is for you that I write and you that I thank for allowing me to come this far.

Yours faithfully,


(Please share this article, I want the world to know the value of our words)

PS – I wrote this article a year ago and since then a lot has changed. I published my first novel this year and am on the brink of finishing the second one. I’m thankful to all the people who encouraged me and made this possible.

Here’s a link to the book in case you would like to take a look


People tend to connect over the strangest of things

shared misfortune


a misplaced smile




shared hometown when in another city/ country(Somali K Chakrabarti )

 The same UNREQUITED love..(Divya)

that unknown helping hand amidst the crowd.. those random smile which are similar to mine (Divya)

the same heart beating around 24*7 but divided amongst borders!(Divya)

the same tears which are unstoppable upon the death of our Martyr!(Divya)

You are free to add to this list in the comments section and I will periodically update this post along with your input.


It was easier back then, all he had to do was pack his bags and leave.

It was harder back then, he never had a reason to stay

Now he had her, and she was everything he needed.

But she was no longer there to tell him that.


It had been one hell of a year. He had gone from strength to strength as everything seemed to come together, things were finally the  way they were supposed to be. The culmination of years of hard work had led to this and the fruit of his labor was sweeter than he could ever have imagined. He walked, his head held high towards the courtroom where they had all but decided his fate. He had spent twenty years inside a prison not because they had sentenced him but because he was safer inside the prison rather than outside.

He had  been scrawny when he had first entered the prison but he had made good use of his time inside. He walked confidently swinging his massive boulder like arms followed by a brigade of lawyers and their associates. Not only had he grown in size but also in reputation and influence. His mind was as sharp as the knife with which he had killed the men that had been sent to murder him in prison.

Today was the last day of not only the year but also his life inside the prison. The only man whom he had feared more than god himself was now just another bullet ridden corpse rotting beneath the ground.

He strode in casually as the door to the courtroom swung wide open. He was blinded by the flash of cameras but it didn’t matter for he was seeing things that were far removed from the scene of the courtroom.

It was going to be a remarkable new year he thought to himself. He could  imagine hearing the sound of gunshots ringing out all over the city disguised by the sounds of fireworks. He could hear the people counting in reverse at the top of their lungs hoping for a new year but leading it the same as the previous one. The countdown to his ascension had already begin. At the stroke of midnight tonight he would be the most powerful man in the city. It had been a hell of a year and all hell was yet to break loose.

“Happy New Year!”

He shouted jovially as he sat down to face the jury. He could read the verdict in the way their faces were set. Freedom was his and his alone for as long as he would run the city it would be no one else’s.

To be continued………………….





Sometimes you find the music you’ve been searching for and sometimes that music finds you. Thank you  .

There is an upcoming indie duo from Bridlington, UK.  It is formed by Jack Sedman (vocals) and Harry Draper (guitar). They have recently released their debut album ‘Tell Me Its Real’. They toured with Kodaline earlier.

They are already booked for the summers touring through Europe. They would love to perform in India and they have a huge following here. They will be performing in Berlin and Paris in the month of may.


Their music is amazing paired with lyrical genius. We have managed to contact them and they would as I said love to perform in India. We are looking for sponsors or music promoters who might be interested.


If anyone is interested or knows someone who might be please let me know. You can mail me at .

Please …this is a request….its an amazing band and India deserves to hear them play.


I wonder where it comes from, this urge to do something. You can try to do something about nothing when it might be a lot more sensible to do anything about something. You could on the other hand try to do something about anything but if that anything is nothing than its actually no different than  doing nothing at all. So the best course of action therefore would be to do something about a thing that is anything but nothing.




source: google images


He tore at his hair in frustration unable to come up with something new. He stared at the empty digital sheet of paper on his computer screen far too long. He was a writer for God’s sake, he should be able to do it. The amount of awards he had won alone would put most writers that called themselves critically acclaimed to shame. But the sad truth was he knew he would never again be abe to replicate the magic of his first book. The plot of that novel had not only been close to his heart but the words had melted into each other in such a way that the story flowed with a thousand different flavours mesmerizing the reader. He no longer had the passion or that level of trust in himself because he had already done what he had set out to do. He no longer had the purpose that had fuelled him. He was just a shadow of someone who had once been the light of a million hearts.


“Are you stupid enough to believe that there is someone out there who is looking out for you?”

“Actually, I’m stupider than what you give me credit for?’

“Or maybe just too damn set in your ways to see the world for what it really is.”

” And how do you see the world?”

” A cold heartless place that smothers what’s beautiful inside and leaves behind a murky fog that envelops and slowly shrivels what was once a healthy and loving heart.”

” I beg to differ. The world is just a place. There’s good and there’s evil but more than that there’s hope. It’s hope that lifts you when you’re drowning in the gutter of your darkest thoughts. It’s hope that allows you to move forward even when you feel as if your legs are no longer yours. Hope is just a concept, but its the one concept that has the potential to keep the world on its feet.”




My sympathy does not lie with the weak but with the helpless.

There comes a time when even the strong become helpless , but contrary to common perception it does not mean that they are weak.He was not a coward . He would have fought each and every one of them had he the means.And yet he did fight even without them.He was punched, kicked ,humiliated.Yet he proved his strength .He smiled.Smiling at your oppressor is the worst thing you can do to him especially when he believes that your spirit is almost broken.He was rewarded with a punch in the stomach and he doubled over.The hands which had been supporting him till now left him..They left the room that day but were unable to take his pride along with them.He was still smiling as the pain overwhelmed him and he lost conciousness but not the will to fight.
He felt someone wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.”You will be all right”,a voice kept telling him.”We need to take him to a hospital”,another voice said.”We can’t,not without involving the police”the voice above me said.”Shit,what have I done ,its all my fault”,said the second voice

to be continued……

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