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Dear WordPress friends,

Lately I’ve been busy with stuff while simultaneously suffering from a writer’s block. (Technically, I’m not even a writer)

While many of you might’ve forgotten about this blog that I created in July 2015 as an outlet for things that I thought and felt, here is just a reminder that the end won’t be this soon. I hope that you’ll wait for me, an old acquaintance.

//Status: Under Renovation//

Lots of love,


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Realisation of the connect.

I believe that people are constantly connecting and de-connecting from each other.

Its a constant process, one that never exhausts itself in my view. 

I believe when you come in contact with someone for the first time or maybe for the hundredth time, you share a lot more than what you see. Sometimes, you don’t even see anything but yet, you know on an unknown level that its there.

That’s what I see when I quietly observe everyone around me in great detail. Especially the ones I see almost everyday. I know a lot about them because of their presence. Its because they’re unknowingly sharing a lot about them. All of us are. And even though we don’t trust anyone, we should, for they do know a lot about us.

A thing’s existence is never the issue from what I’ve learnt, its the realisation of that existence that creates or resolves the problem. 

If you realise its existence, you avoid problems. If you’re in dark, then well, you do know how life has been “unfair” to you in these couple of days or maybe months, probably even for these past years.

Afterall, ignorance has never been a bliss and we have known it at one point or another.

So the next time when some stranger tells you that, “Hey! I’ve seen you somewhere.” believe them, for they have seen YOU and not a SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

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1 year. Today.

//My spark will never dim.

Exactly a year ago, I craved for some space. A space where I wasn’t misjudged. A space where my existence was accepted and appreciated and my feelings could express themselves with no boundaries and fears.

This is when I found this. 

I took the courage, the initiative to bring out the best in me through this. WordPress. More of like wonderfulpress, to me. 

This platform woke up my inner reader, my inner inquisition that I had buried years ago in the process of almost losing myself back then. And I’m grateful, for I breathe to help many out there like the old me to see the colourful side of our individual precious lives.

My aim? 

All I want is people to inspire themselves to do something that they can call their heart beat, their own song, their own dance, their own art. Most of the times we disregard our self worth for the sake of something that’s superficial and not worth it. All I want is people to celebrate themselves everyday and live, for real.

I had started this blog with this hope, this dream to spread positivity and an energy that will drive us to make changes for us, and for the world. 

Someday, we will be great. Someday, you and I will be there.

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// I N F I N I T I S M


Its something we all believe in. Its also something we don’t believe in. 

You may ask why,

For everything has to be definite for us. For everything has to be defined for us.

The brain has evolved from subjectivity to objectivity over a period of time. Thus, infinitism is vague yet true to its meaning.

So what is infinitism?

To some, an expression; 

To some, an art;

To some, a way of living 

And to me,

My thoughts.

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The dark abysm called out for me and slowly I walked towards it,

Discounting everything and everyone besides me.

The mourning, the grief stricken, the shocked.

I left it all behind and walked, walked till my transparent tears nourished the ground beneath me, till my feet tore all the cracks of my sole apart, till I bled deep shades of red and black to drain it out of my body.

I walked to nothing. I walked to the emptiness that I held in my heart.

And then,

I opened my eyes to find my beloved lying lifelessly on the cold, stranger floor.

That’s when I knew that my soul was long gone, long before hers did.

#On life that vanquished with your loved one’s ashes.

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The dark hour- A terror attack from the perspective of a terrorist

This is an entry for “Global Crisis Summit 2016’s Press Corps writing section.”

                              •  •  •


Sunday, 30th November, 2008.

Stinking walls, a rusty basin and urinal in the corner covered in darkness is everything that surrounds me at the moment. 

Its only been 24 hours since they’ve put me in this hellhole and I already can’t think straight. I feel huge bags around my eyes due to sleep deprivation and today, my heart soars in pride as I reflect back on all the things that I’ve done so far.

Sometimes, even the baddest of things can lead to something big, something better and then the bad no longer seems like one.

For me, it started 6 years ago, but my real work began 6 days ago. The sea was our muse on a surprisingly bright day in this chilly winter when we began our voyage towards our “target”. 4 hours later, we anchored on the enemy coast and set off towards the marked areas. My colleagues took their positions as I stood behind my leader, ready with the AK-47 in hand in front of the railway station. On the count of 10, we marched inside and the leader began shooting like we did back home. I followed his suit as I ran towards the exit to prevent people from escaping the wrath of our firing. To me, their lives hardly made a difference as they were just filthy creatures who’ve harmed my men and women in the past. We’ve seen them getting tortured here back home and are here to put an end to it.

Later on, the leader walked me to a hotel that was built for the elite and we took everyone in sight as our hostages. Seeing the fear of death in their eyes brought a certain kind of peace to my heart that is indescribable in all terms. Their cries, their pain brought nothing but the satisfaction of completing my duty to me.

I’ve been brought up for this task in the world and feel no shame for the sake of my own people.

One day, I’ll be prayed to for today and the entire world will be mine and only mine. Even if I’m killed, I’ll be known as a martyr to everyone and eventually, they’ll bow down to me.

I was caught yesterday and locked up here where perhaps my tomb will be built. A memoir for my heroism will be written to commemorate me as the saviour of people from the dirty politics that kills our men everyday.

#Highlighting the Bombay attacks of 26/11.

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A letter to my civilian martyr.

“Dear loved one,

Just know that you’ve been a great citizen till the end until you became an innocent victim of political and social rage that empowered with time around you. The fall of an empire and the death of the emperor killed your family too. I know it all for I’ve seen it from behind you.

Everyday I saw you walking down the old street of the offices with terror in your eyes and the fear of harm captive in your heart. I’ve seen you not raising your head or your voice in front of the selfish bullies that claimed themselves as the ‘Messiah of the modern day.’ I’ve seen it and even I, have kept your secret thoughts in me like my own.

In these past years, you’ve been praying more than you did before and that seems to fear your wife and lift up the spirits of your mother. When your feeble kid asked you if the war is going to destroy your family, I remember you telling her to not worry for you were far, far away from all of the chaos.

But that fateful night has scarred her as much as it has scarred me; the difference being, she never got to see your bruised unrecognisable face, nor got to say you the bidding goodbye and the assurance of her love for you.

I tried to make them eat and sleep after you told me to take care of them, but all they did was cry till their tears and their blood dried up with their screams. Its quite haunting for them, the deadly silence that you left behind, with no fault of your own, but you being a mere martyr in the fight of many egoist groups.

Do sleep in peace for someday all of this is gonna end bitterly, when your family and the rest of them are going to join you, in a place for the living dead. And that day, all your fears, all your worries will be stacked away from you  for ever and ever and ever.


Your stranger friend in whose arms you took your very last breath.”

#On terrorism and dirty politics.