A world waiting to be explored

The Inverted Universe

It was an interesting conversation I always used to have with this one particular professor, about an inverted universe.  He said that in each moment, an alter ego living in another universe was behaving in an exactly opposite manner. So, a feeling of rage was complemented by utmost serenity, a longing for love found its own in a burning hatred and so on.

It always amazed me how he imparted an innovative dimension to thinking. I used to go to his lab and we sat through hours

Aye Aye Professor!

I stood on the podium in front of vacant benches forming steps and aligned in a semicircular fashion. In full capacity, the room housed around 200 students. And that was the sight I procured maximum utility from. On other days, I'll talk to the students, scribble on the huge green-board, think of multiple worlds together and push our thoughts to attain 0% cohesion. I always thought they had much more to teach me than I could teach them, after all there were 200 minds against one of mine. But whatever statistics lead to, the pin drop silence when I spoke always testified that my students thought otherwise.

Two tales of love!

We grow up thinking that when we find our special ones, the moment would be the one made in heaven. These two tales goes out to all who have had weird proposals but appear extremely adorable in hindsight.

Every time I told her I hated something, she'd gift me that the very next day. It flustered me. My room is stuffed with things I detested at one point in time. Today when I look back, I understand what she was doing all this while. Not gifts, but lessons.

I don't dislike those things as much. Give time and everything, inadvertently, starts to make sense. All a part of a big puzzle. Sometimes people ask me how did I reciprocate?

Out in the field!

He exuded over-confidence like a brimming swimming pool. Much to everyone's annoyance though, but he had the licence. The world had him labelled as drop-dead genius. He awe-inspired me. But when I let him have ounces of my thoughts, it rang constantly in my head that he didn't even know me. Who was I? A girl in the crowd. Perhaps, someone who wanted to know him, someone who wanted to uncover the million layers he pretended to own.

Father and Daughter!

I sat there holding my drink. My legs hung between the railings from the 12th of a 16 storey apartment. In the backdrop of a city with all the glitterati, lay a few common men who embraced night as it came. I pulled the glass close to my mouth and inverted it all at once. It was time for the next drink. I made my way inside the 3BHK flat which was as lavish and spacious as you'd get in this city. Before I made myself the drink, I swiftly checked upon my 6 year old daughter if she was well asleep and comfortable. She had finally slept. I took her small little hands in mine and kissed them.

Between the lines

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 46; the forty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

I had 10 tabs open on the browser and 15 windows opened on the screen. Beneath this chaotic congregation, lay a picture of us. I shuffled between windows to see the desktop background once in a while as I continued to ace the parallel worlds which shared my attention. The table too, was cluttered with papers, pen, paperweights, water bottle and coffee mug which regularly injected me with caffeinated blood. The small fluorescent table lamp highlighted a man fighting it out with all the might he had.

From the eyes of an introvert

I gestured towards her to lower the pitch as she entered the library. She bit her tongue as realization dawned upon her. She mocked a thank you. I smiled and returned to reading my favourite author, Mitch Albom. From the corner of my eye, I saw her disappearing to the other corner. One could see the lapses in concentration of a voracious reader. Her voice loomed large on me as I learned she is again in vicinity. I looked up to steal a glance. She was at the counter, issuing a book which was hard bound in maroon. It looked like a course book. The cooler nearby blew her air for the little time she undid her bun. That sight nearly killed me.

The Push we need...


I know not the rules but I'll play the game being pushed against the walls and the cuboid converging with each passing second. But you know what is the most fantastic thing about this game?

Everyone has to play it.

It tries, tests, suffocates, blows you off but doesn't kill you. And that is something scary.
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