Blog

By Archita Savarnya

By Supriya Majumdar

A prose of grace or a duet of virtues and vices?
She is not just a woman but a sublime storm...

By Unnati Khanna Unnati 

I was the last one in my family of four, two brothers and two sisters. They named me Bobby...

By Gopika Velayudhan

I stepped into this street. It's mid-day here. The coolness of the morning, just fading away...

By Sakshi Swarup

“Oh, I could never do it,” the little kite said,
As he looked at the others high above over his head...

By Vinay Vashisht

Jagga’s ears rose at the rustling of bushes. The air was foggy and still with the blaze of dire cold. 

By Dikshita Saikia

The night was dark, magnificent and warm. It was a Saturday night in the Bilaspara village...

By Saikat Das

Apart from music, painting and theater, another art-form which was practiced widely on the streets is street photography. 

By VIDHYALAKSHMI M

Have you seen any Indian street,
Loads of people rushing on their feet!

By Anupama Das

Every individual has a unique way of defining freedom. Some people think that freedom is a myth...

By Ekta Singh

I go to my new journey with the price of solitude.
But I know this loneliness will end soon.

By Vashai Pamreishim  Zimik

Our secret shall be that we are born free-
Though, now, fettered down in infinite chains...

By Farrukh Altaf

Just lifting my eyelids would enshrine me witness the delight, right in my bed, and outside from my room's window.

By Manisha Pant

Fascinating those heights are,
Where freedom floats the clouds.

By Sayani Bhattacharya

The early morning joggers returned home in track pants and high-topped sneakers, the newspaper delivery boy...

By Himani Chandel

Sitting in this solitude, the reminiscence of my first teenage heartbreak which is usual in its way.

By Nidhi Shukla

The vision of the world is colliding
The dip in excitement is palpable, it's chiding....

By Diya Singh

As my tired feet touch the street
The street touch my heart too...

By Shriya Bhalla

Christmas time, morning hush, decorations and celebrations all around. I remember this day...

By Ritesh Shetty

A thoroughfare with tree made arcs
The smell of berries fills the air

By Gayathri Swaminathan

Kannamma whisked the broom hard, complaining “How come the cleaning broom itself is so dirty?”

By Inusha Panigrahi

The streets are uzzing like Honey bee
There is much hustle and bustle

By Janani Arunkumar 

Will you detest my individuality
And try castigating my intellect?

By Ambreen Hamadani

A soft cool breeze blew about her, more freely than she ever would have dared.

By SUHANI GARATE

Gazing down at the town,
Which all feels like you own the crown.

By Shambhavi Mishra

I had been an epileptic sufferer since I was of five. My two elder brothers left everything for their sovereignty.

By Swetapadma Nanda 

Who knew it would start by a friend request ,
Living distances apart from east to west .

By Prerona Das

Now, she wears only white colour
Oh, that's a GIFT by the society.

By Shivaa Dhar Saxena 

Standing by oneself 
In a street packed with people...

By Akanksha Srivastava

The strangest part is that even though I was not the recipient, this applies to me. And to you.