It was finally one of those lazy afternoons, when it was raining outside, there was some time at my disposal, and was free from any commitments. Frankly such days are always around, we 

The sun shone obliquely over them. It would soon near the horizon. This day they, and the year they were bidding an adieu was very special, to both of them. A year back they had seen each 

They gazed into each other’s eyes across the room. It was rather a secret; their friendship. They were together with each other, in the embrace of their eye contact. Separately one,

A lousy day it was. She kept checking her mobile, time and again to see if she had received the long awaited message. But no luck. She kept reading the articles one after the other.

The final fifteen days for the semester to end were going on. She was engrossed in completing as much work as possible. Staying into Archi-torture was her very own decision, and she for never once regretted in doing so.

It had been ages since my last cup of coffee. I think it was in Pondicherry, in Le Cafe! Almost after a year, I felt like grabbing a mug of coffee and a beloved book. A book which I had read and reread and it taught me something new every single time.

It was a fateful February evening. Probably his smile caught her attention. It had been many years since she last appreciated anyone’s smile. Or rather even observed any. His name was yet another thing that stuck a chord. “Saurabh”, she repeated the name over and over again in her mind.

I took a yearlong break at college last year, to which my logical brain ridiculed me but the emotional one was in full support. Voicing my thoughts at home was never an issue, but the idea of wasting a year seemed dreadful and I wondered how my parents are ever going to listen to something crazy like this.

Being the virtual social butterfly I am, it was rather a drastic step to cut contacts through Facebook and WhatsApp. The once addicted me, believed it was terribly hard to give up the two things I love the most. But down below, deep in my heart, I knew it was necessary.

The phone kept ringing. Once. Twice. Thrice. No answer. Anamika decided to try one last time. The call was answered the fourth time. “Who’s this calling so late?”, a visibly irritated woman was on the the other side. Anamika felt numb to be answered by a female voice. She wondered if she had dialled the right digits. She kept quiet.