The last sunset.

The last sunset.

The world wrapped their 9-5
in a fancy gift wrap of “I’m too tired”
as the sun slowly started falling
for someone who didn’t love him back.
Why should he be any different than us?
As the sunset,
everything turned black Continue reading The last sunset.

One smile, alternate realities.

One smile, alternate realities.

Share your dreams, compassion, smile and stories in the comment section below. Enjoy!


You don’t need other planets or parallel universes to have alternate realities. In a world of seven billion people, it might be safe to think you are unique, but your dreams may not be. There are thousands of people out there achieving everything you’ve wanted, and thousands who see you achieving everything they have ever wanted. That’s where Rumi butts in and makes things worse by stating that ‘the grass is always greener on the other side’. This tendency of having similar dreams and a never-ending thirst to achieve them, creates an alternate reality in the lives of thousands of people. Continue reading One smile, alternate realities.

Wars and families.

War is so much more than just history. Let’s just hope we never write such a history again.


The sun was right above his head, and behind him, the field was a rainbow of small flowers. The boy’s forehead was sweaty and his heart was running a lost marathon. Anticipation and reflexes were his only hope, but throughout the nineteen years that he had lived, he had learned that they were not the best kind of hope. His seniors always told people that training and reality had a very significant difference, and as he hid behind trees and under bushes, he could tell what the difference was. His enemies were no longer wooden targets or friendly faces. They were strangers, and as real as he was.

Bruce had joined the army when he was seventeen because his country was in the middle of a war and he knew they needed every soldier they could get. 1942 was a lethal year, and that is when he had turned nineteen. After severe and quick training, he was being sent to a battlefield right in the middle of his training program because they didn’t have time. Soldiers were falling in huge numbers every day and the World War didn’t differentiate between soldiers, and citizens. One of the many reasons he had joined the army was because he wanted to be one of the reasons why his mother and little sister woke up every morning. He wanted to protect them.

Even now as he headed towards his possible victory or death, he could see a smile on his sister’s face and hope in his mother’s eyes. And then like a curse and a nightmare, he imagined them being tortured and a sharp sting sliced his spine and brought his focus back to the field. His weapons were clashing against a thirty year old man who was fighting for his family, just like Bruce was. Amidst a war for the country and the millions of people living in it, families had become weapons of mass destruction. The only reason he could land his shots in the center of the man’s forehead was because he had a family to get back to. He kept that in mind as he shot bullets and hid behind anything that could give him a temporary shield.

After what seemed like an infinity, but was just an hour, a bullet went right into his heart and he couldn’t even scream. The war continues around his as he lay on the ground. He tried to think about his family or remember their faces, but he could not. Why was it so tough when he needed it the most? This wasn’t the only question he didn’t get an answer to, as he passed away.


Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post : Existential crisis
Related post : The war has ended.

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Butterflies and crushes.

I wrote this as a guestpost for  Cultural Inspector . Go over to his blog and show him some love!


“He left me with love. He left me with Christmas toes, petty wishes and eye-lashes on the back of my hand. There are a lot of things I remember about him, and a lot of him I barely know. The first time I saw him, he was a mess. His hair was an adjective I’d use for the first time I had sex – Wild, and strangely nice. His nose was red, and he was sneezing every two minutes. In his hands though, was a cone with two scoops of Belgian Chocolate ice cream. His eyes were dreamy and reminded me of this beach I’ve always wanted to go to. His smile was like watching two drunk people falling in love. His voice reminded me a lot of a voice in my head that I hear only when I go crazy.

I liked how his cute smile was a WiFi network and everyone around him simply connected. I loved how his palms reminded me of a blanket I had when I was ten, but his knuckles were rough like the concrete I fell on when I tried riding a bike for the first time. Everything about him felt like a distant memory, and I was infatuated. It was as if I had stumbled upon a new part of my town and I just had to see the graffiti on the walls, the children on the sidewalks and the gossiping men. He reminded me a lot of a puzzle I tried solving when I was eight.

So, the next time I saw him was the first time I met him. I had a firm handshake planned but he gave me the warmest hug and I was glad cause my palms were sweaty anyway. He knew my name, and the butterflies in my stomach had a few toasts of Vodka for just that. I asked him out, and he said sure. He smiled right after, and I felt a Prusik knot in my throat. I mentally cursed whoever was responsible for handling human emotions, and because I could not speak, I smiled. I remember walking away from him, and as I did, I pulled on my fingers to try to not bounce as I walk. I spent the next few days preparing myself, but he never showed up. Turns out, he was in an accident.

I did not speak for a long time since. How could I with the knot in my throat? When I heard about his death, it was like my heart had been slingshot to my stomach and it had successfully slammed the butterflies against a wall.”


Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post : Blind hearts.
Related post : Home and him.

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