Clandestine meetings and stolen stares...

No words for this one. Only the experience.

She's not your typical witch. She's not your typical fairy either. She's gray, and sparkling in the darkest night we have ever known.

Dust and Amaltas trees in full bloom, noise and a perfect Eid moon. Delhi, circa 1922.

Imagine your paramour, your human heartbeat, your biggest sin. Then, read this.

The world must be a whole lot more colourful than that. After all, it has housed me, and I am an existence of shifting shades.

Where do your secrets go to hide? Where do you come undone?

Written by a broken heart, missing those times when it was whole and beating, pumping life into all the love it had felt just moments ago.

Introducing a string of the songs my soul sung while Taylor sung Folklore and mesmerised us. Visit my world.

How do you watch the man you have secretly loved for 70 years die in front of you?

A deathbed proposal, 64 years too late. How much can the heart remember?

A quiet walk in one city, the offer to repeat it in another. Silences can be addicting.

What does one do when one falls in love with the forbidden fruit?

We go on searching for the love we had felt for the very first time. Is that search always a happy one?