The Chair Before the Door A chair left facing the doorkeeps expecting a shadow,like a cup holding warmthlong after the tea is gone.The room breathes slowly around it,walls listening like old relatives.Dust settles the way memories do,soft, unquestioned, and faithful.The door stands upright, like a paused sentence,each hinge remembering a hand.Time moves past the chair […]
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Every festival has two stories, the one we celebrate, and the one we carry silently It was an Onam day. The sun was already high.Morning had passed quietly for the girl. She had started early,before sunrise. She walked through small lanes and open roads,carrying a basket of flowers on her head.Jasmine, roses, and small yellow
“One Complete Year” The carpenter came seeking a chair,a place for a crown to rest,but the forest breathed like an ashram at dawnand offered him a life instead. Among many trees standing in silent prayer,their trunks dark with prayer,he chose the oldest teak,Aged like a rishi who had watchedmany suns rise and fallWithout asking their
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The Tree That Asked for Spring: The carpenter did not cut the tree at once; instead, he lent it time, and the tree learned to live its entire life in a single year, like a book finally read with attention. When the axe was ready, there was no grief left—only gratitude, as wood that had known every season offered itself without regret.
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