Lights. Camera. RCNM.

In a metro like Mumbai, winter experiences are rare ones, because of no signs of a cool weather for most parts of the year, and two, time constraints make the idea of enjoying winter trivial.         So last year, I decided to spend my Christmas holidays at my Aunt's in Macleodgunj, Himachal! And woah! THAT was a real winter experience; with snowfall and hailstorms being a common phenomenon at this recluse hideaway hill station. Surprisingly, Macleodgunj was a lively town. With a considerable Catholic population, Christmas celebrations were roaring! So on a Sunday evening, while my Aunt was busy entertaining other guests, I went to a local club with some guys in the neighbourhood. Till about midnight, we played pool and devoured a plethora of Christmas sweets. The other lads decided to stay over. But I had to get back. The club was just 10 minutes away from my Aunt's apartment. But what worried me was the shivering cold and the blinding expanse of darkne...

Till I was about nine years old, snow was one of the only extreme weather conditions I hadn’t experienced. They say you need to work hard to make your dreams come true…well in my case I pestered God till I got what I wanted! My father picked the Christmas vacations to book tickets to Manali in Himachal Pradesh. Ooo my excitement knew no bounds! I was born as a hyperactive child and dreaming of making snowmen infuriated my mother a little more than usual, that she had to shut me up by “blackmailing’ me! Then the important day arrived. I could only imagine what Manali would be like: powerful snowstorms, glistening mountains, people greeting us with warmth, kindness, warm and delicious food and wonderfully fresh air. We had actually made plans to drive from Chandigarh to Manali, so all the snow and the snow-clad mountains did not pop out of nowhere. We were slowly getting used to it. When I held my first ever snowball, I was so frozen that I would have literally heard Idina Menz...

“The poor bastard never saw it coming.” He spoke these words sitting on the kerb with his head in his hands.  I didn't know what to tell him. I’d been watching all along. I was at the sink rinsing my coffee cup when he left at 7:30, as usual. And as soon as the garage door closed, I saw their curtains disappear. Well, that caught my eye.  She was ripping them down. I knew then something was wrong, this being mid-December and no time for spring cleaning. I stood for awhile, peeking between the blinds.  I like to know what’s going on in my neighbourhood. She stood at the bare window for a minute or two, staring wide-eyed at the neglected lawn, naked trees, and the cement-coloured sky.  I raised my hand up just in case she looked but she didn't–she saw the dog, his dog, big stupid thing licking himself on the front lawn like it was the only thing to do. She took the things he never liked: the pillow she’d embroidere...

“I think this is the last stop, mate.” Someone tapped on my shoulders. I could not feel my legs. I stumbled and fell in the compartment; he tried to pick me up.  “Get your hands off me.” I glared at him.   “You are too drunk. Where are you going?” I did not listen. I just tiptoed around the compartment and got off the train. Something was eating me from inside, slowly poisoning every part of me that ever felt alive. I was dragging my feet on the roads. I could hear vehicles honking, drivers shouting, and the madness that this city is.  Crawling, I made my way to the graveyard while tightly holding a white frock and a broken doll to my chest. It was almost midnight. Leafs were ruffling with breeze and there was no sign of any living being. I opened the gate, tearing through the silence of the night. I slowly started walking towards her. She was beautiful too, just like this frock. She was so precious…my sister, Ilina. She had big eyes ...

Today I saw a lady, with hair as black as raven and skin as flair as milk. I walked past her as I moved towards the ticket counter at a train station. As I watched, she lifted her h and and pushed away a strand of hair that whipped against her face as a train whooshed past. While I stood in the line, waiting for my turn I couldn’t help but stare at her as she leaned against the wall, the tinsel in her hair shining and the glass bangles on her hand tinkling. From where I stood, she looked perfect her blue sari swaying in the wind. I remember her touching the bangles on her hand; her nimble fingers running across the smooth surface of the bangles enclosed her slender wrist. As I pushed my way back to the front of the line, I turned again to catch a glimpse of this lady. I don’t know what about her caught my eye. May be it was her beauty, may be it was the peace in her eyes. From where I stood far away, I saw she wasn’t really there in the world I stood in. She had drifted away,...

"A tragic situation exists precisely when virtue does not triumph but when it is still felt that man is nobler than the forces which destroy him." - George Orwell The universe we live in is built up of opposing forces which counterbalance each other and exist in a state of volatile equilibrium. Yin and yang, light and dark, virtue and vice - the conflict is eternal.  This is why not every story can have a happy ending. Smiles can become tears, dreams can turn into nightmares and life can translate into death in the blink of an eye. This is known as tragedy.  One wrong step, one false judgment, one fatal mistake can bring an end to the flawed existence of life. This is tragedy. It is well established that misery and death can help man achieve a philosophical zenith. It is part and parcel of life, yet so unnerving and unbelievable. Hence, tragic stories often break right through the cluster of one's thoughts and pierce right into the heart.  ...