Another Rendezvous

  The word ‘sports’ widely evokes an image of motivated athletes surging through stadiums with adrenaline and power. While we have come a long way from Olympians dueling to death in contemporary amphitheaters, has the progress in sports incurred a rise of new adversities with it? The billion dollar global sports industry might look like the modern El Dorado to the common eye but the industry faces its fair share of challenges. Spectators and fans make up a large portion of the sports industry’s stakeholders. While arenas with throngs of crowd cheering and chanting are commonplace, the active physical participation of millennials has seen a dismal drop. With games being streamed live and broadcasted globally, the need for stepping outside the comfort of homes seems to have been minimized. With the current participation trends in view, the future of millennial interest in venturing physically to sports stadiums and arenas seems bleak. Better advertising and mainstream relevance would...

Woven threads and gentle folds Sequins reflecting a lost light Towers of thought beyond empty scaffolds Delicacy embroidered, hiding in plain sight  A gown of hope with a lining of treason Heavy hand feigning fancy gestures  Innocent children of daylight in prison I'm afraid you come with the wrong questions The artist dreamt of the gown  Asleep in his faithless cage  The first star after the sundown  Expectations fall apart as they age  I've seen many such pieces Fall from a promised glory of morrow  Back to shreds of mortifying creases I don't seem to know a tomorrow No, I don't seem to know a tomorrow.

 For all the long years that Dr Arun Shah had lived, the last thing on his mind had been taking a solitary break. Life, in his opinion had never been 'designed' to take voluntary lapses, time always went by and trees never stopped their life processes, henceforth why should men think of slowing down or going on vacations? The question had troubled Dr Shah since he was a little kid. It had bothered his mind, clawed and gnawed at his brain, ultimately frustrating the doctor upon wasting his precious time on the mere thought of it. The truth was, as you might have anticipated by now, Dr. Shah's opinions about recreational breaks and solitude were not limited to vehement dislike. They shadowed a morbid fear that the doctor had, rooted deep in his mind.  "Dr. Shah", a voice tore through the surface of his thoughts. He found himself looking into the eyes of his excited young colleague. Ah, there he was again. Guggenheim University, Bioinformatics Department, a hell lot ...

I am Keiken And I live by the shore Mine are the tides and the boats My voice is the salty uproar A storyteller, they call me For the ancient gray of my eyes Mine is a birth of timeless age Heaves of breath plummet and rise  I was once a man of wealth  Women smiled and cajoled me The ship had left the harbour  As their hungry eyes devoured my jewelry  Then I was a young girl  My gown sewn of insecurity I felt myself going away farther As I stared at others pretty Time, I felt, was kinder When I was born a teacher  Alas, I had almost forgotten There was always a farewell after an investiture A billion more lives I have lived and felt Richer, higher, prettier, faster Are coveted lies that burn and melt My stories are never devoid Of moral and of reason My tides ever lap the same Though the wind sways with the season

 Mist parted in the mango grove owned by the Chettinads. The first one to lift the veil of silence of the impending dawn was the little one of the grove's mischievous sunbird. It twittered and inwardly fluffed its tiny wings producing an infinitesimal jerk; enough to wake the mother. As the dawn approached, imitating a shy child being asked to recite a piece of poetry, the grove was awake. Birds tittered and ants hurried about their business. The last call from the grove was the loudest. It was always the Grey Junglebird who initiated the rituals about to happen in the small, dung caked room in the thatched house of the Chettinads. Vaidarbhi inhaled the fragrant air of the new born day, infused with the smell of ripe mangoes and bananas from the grove and of the wet muddy banks of the Vaigai flowing unhurriedly. A silent prayer of gratitude to Vishnu the Preserver escaped her lips as she opened her eyes and performed a full bhoomi namaskara. The first thoughts in her mind were alwa...

Dear human , Ages have gone by since we had a good chat together, have they not? Ah, six million years to be precise, because now, you demand accuracy. I remember the times when you stared at my valleys and mountains with wonder. You would look up to me for survival and comfort, fiddle with my rocks and at times, burn my forests. But when you burnt forests for the first time, you were horrified and shocked. You wept hard, thinking you had let me down. After a rough day’s work, you would find solace in resting your back against me, looking up to the heavens and counting stars as though they were your blessings. You know what, I was secretly proud of you. I had a feeling that you would rise to be the most powerful and virtuous among all other species. And then, everything changed. You evolved and developed this world of your own. You emerged a shining gemstone from the dirt and I gloated with pride, for you were my child. You made new inventions out of little things. Farms and houses cam...