I once told a little girl,that you can be what you wish.She looked at me with an atheist’s apprehension ‘Why didn’t you become what you wished then?’That question, till date, is growing like weed in my being.

The mechanism of beingisn’t always meant to be understood,it is meant to be experienced.

The unfathomable wilderness of this mind.Blind. Unkind.

The survival mechanism of humansis so powerful and yet so painful.This constant struggle to exist.

December.A desperate celebration of an end.