Posts by Aditi Dhasmana

If I Call It Love…

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> It is a little disappointing and also a little scary when you say that the past means nothing to you and that only the present matters. I often find myself wondering, “Really, is that what you think?” I would love to plunge into

Oh Simple Things…

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> When people asked me what I was passionate about, I didn’t say writing, or science, or reading, or cooking, or indulging in one of those YOLO activities. I like all those things but I always knew my real passion was to relax. In

It’s Not Over

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> The sea has been pounding the rocks mercilessly since dawn. I often wonder what lies beneath that deceptively simple word, the sea. Its a continuous evolving drama of a billion waves and their eternal fight with the rocks. Why did language choose a

Seduced

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> “I won’t do it…I just won’t”, I tried convincing myself in vain, shuffling in my seat with my eyes shut and fists clenched. I immediately regained my formal posture for the fear of being noticed in my queer, helpless state by office mates.

The unsaid Incongruity

Look darling what a mess we have made by doing everything just right.   I have loved you and lusted over you. But now all we have left is a parasitic dependence, devoid of both love and lust. They say love changes definition over time; it’s not always rainbows and butterflies. They say love makes us settle into a safe and comfortable life. They say love changes its nature and

Journey from Nothingness to Nothingness

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> After a great deal of commotion around my bed, my senses were slowly shutting down. I tried to keep my eyes open for as long as possible but finally something told me that it was no good use fighting. I was scared but

That Thing Called Hope

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> The old Church in our High School premises, built by the Britishers was open to all and we were God’s regular visitors. The ancient English building with beautiful stained glass windows was dark and cosy, with pictures and statues of Jesus and Mary.

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Potential

Issac’s Riddle- Where Lies your Belief?

Issac loved to create. A story, a painting, a mosaic, a shoe, anything at all! Little did he know his mad creations would lead to this day. Every inventor went through stages of difficulties. With every passing stage, the creations got better. Issac’s passion led him to the stage of perfection.   Every time he created something he slipped into a trance. It was like passing through a wormhole and

Loving like an Atheist

What are we but a bunch of contradictions? It is surprising how we can want two completely opposite things at the same time. We are our own representation of Yin and Yang, a complete world in itself. One such stark contradiction is pretty much ruining my life. I am living the one horror of marriage that I was always afraid of- Monotony.   The worst example of contradiction is our

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