And what true love definitely is not. — Sometimes I blame it on my friends, sometimes on the movies I saw growing up, and sometimes on the particular genetic makeup that I have — I am not sure who or what to blame, but because of some reason or some wrong influence, I developed a very wrong view…

How sometimes happiness comes without any reason — The only two other people in the carriage of the tube I was sitting in were two hippies — a woman in a loose brown shirt with a bandana on her forehead, shoulder-length hair spread about her face and a man with his head on her lap wearing a white-colored…

And the ephemeral questions that come with it — Late winter dusk, velvety and dulcet, and I am walking on the street looking ahead at the lights, hazed, and blurry in the mist, their blue and red and yellow soft, faded out. Looking at these I feel I’m looking back in time at some distant memories. …

And I was called to help her get better — One day when I was fourteen years old I returned from school to find Mrs. Sharma, one of my mother’s friends from the neighborhood, in our house. She was sitting on the couch beside my mother, both of them holding a cup of tea in their hands, plates of savories…

Fiction and poems accepted — Submit your pieces related to Love or Life. Key focus on Fiction but other genres accepted. Please read the published stories to get an idea. Interested in stories that focus on the rich emotional experience of living. It can be a story about you falling in love, or getting out…

Spring does not only add color outside but also within you — Spring was already here. I could feel it even as I lay in my bed, the cover warmer than it was the day before, the air carrying a lightness in it as if after being encumbered for months it had finally shed its winter weight and become free. The faint…

It is this memory that I remember the most — You standing on the porch — that’s how I see you whenever I remember you. You standing, wearing a bubble-gum-pink colored t-shirt and short blue jeans, light breeze unfurling the loose strands of your light brown hair, that calm spring smile on your face, and your hazel-colored eyes following me…

She left no opportunity to embarrass me in front of the others — Okay, so I was stuck with Debby. Remember Debby? That girl who wrote me sweet love poem notes and was obsessed about taking notes on my life history? …

And she stopped cooking and began roasting me instead — So my wife pulls me up in the hallway. “What’s happening?” she asks in a tone that is a bit hazy. “Everything usual,” I reply in my serious voice. She leans forward, whispers, “oh really,” and then clicks her tongue twice. So, I step back, get ready for her assault…