Dheeraj Kalgutkar

Photo by Jim Strasma on Unsplash There is a moon in the pitch-black night sky and a bright star close to it. Both dangled in the dark ocean of space far far away from the pull of our world. It’s the Ramzan moon. Stare closely and observe deeply for a minute, you’ll notice the thin crescent which is the moon and completing its outline is a tunnel. Look at it and keep gazing and it resembles like the crescent is a light coming out of a dark tunnel. It feels like the stars are but shimmering fireflies, motionless flies blowing lights in a dark cave full of witchcraft. Outside this cave lies the magical light. Of which right now only a curve is visible. The moon appears to be an opening onto something. What is it? I don’t know yet but I aim to find out soon. Is it important to find out? I don’t think so. But I want to know what does it lead to. So every day after sunset I sit down here and gaze at the twilight sky. I watch the fireflies that are not moving. But twinkling. Many...

Yay! This is where I’m sitting and staring at sky… Monsoon has just arrived to the place where I live in. Or is it pre-monsoon? Oh, how does that matter! They are but rain drops from sky. It's not the drizzling rain under which I have sat for some time now. It's almost no rain for that matter. My clothes are yet to get wet. I'm yet to feel the water but breeze? It is already in its full fervor. Breeze and night have a strange connection with my inner goddess, if I can borrow that phrase from Fifty Shades! I would rather say, it's nostalgia. The place I'm right now in is not my home. I'm so much new to this place and this place is so much new to me. We are yet to get along, yet to bond. I miss the comforts of back home. That walk on the sea coast, hearing the sounds of tides which appear mammoth at distance but turn into milky froth at the shore and how they disappear, and the breeze. The cold one that gets to your flesh. One that makes you forget everythin...