It happened in an instant.

The tempest brought with it the dark clouds which bled black into the clear blue canvas, and cloaked it gray. The cryptic white mist now looked glaringly sharp against the lightless backdrop. It was an indication for her to leave.

‘The woods are not safe…


Illustrated by Priyanshi Sharma

As I parted from the ground, my lens glided up with the redwoods. The brown and wrinkled, tremendous trunks seemed to never end, but I could now see its branches without craning my neck. “Is this how the sparrows see it!”, I wondered. The branches — some clothed green while…


Illustrated by — Priyanshi Sharma

The roaring, fervent white water, when gushed out of the black serpent’s mouth, I looked at it;
The tempestuous mass, when met the placid turquoise pool, mollified;
Until it would flow out of its bed to quench the thirst of the fields of gold;
I would look at it — hours on end;
It…


Illustrated by — Priyanshi Sharma

The stench of sweat, nutty-warm aroma of the peanuts, the heavy smell of the oil, re-fried a million times, a horde of people crushing and surviving, the sea of sounds and voices which could qualify for noise and shrieks, muddied her stream of senses.

Vikram had pushed her into that…


Illustrated by Priyanshi Sharma

She was a little girl — perhaps six years old. I don’t know her name — I’ll call her Emma. It was a clear blue day — the sun shone bright; not that warm, but warm enough. The white clouds as solid as meringue dotted the blue canvass. The birds…


Illustrated by — Priyanshi Sharma

It was a warm summer afternoon. A soiled yellow bus came to a screeching halt levitating dust from the parched streets. She jumped from the bus, and the loo swept her stray hair, which had escaped from the tightly woven braid.

“Bye!”, she waved, and turned the knob of a…


Illustrated by Priyanshi Sharma

Her name was Elsa. Delivered at the doorstep of a gleaming crystal building perched on a hill-top, by a car with no wheels, she stood there, gazing at the entrance board that read, “The Coffee Shop”.

She glided in, to be greeted by two bronze-red skinned men, who pointed her…


And instead of a pony, it was a horse - a full grown black beast with mane of a lighter brown color, with eyes that did sparkle, but carried a weight. Amilija, at once elated, lightly jumped on her feet; the next second she fixed her eyes on the horse’s…


When the yellow warmed my city,
And the lazy mornings were filled with a golden hue;
When every day, I woke up to the familiar call of a man who trudged with the most splendid canvas of fruits, across the dusty streets,
And his mangoes, while being rationed at our dinner table, withstood…


But can’t we co-exist?

It was the evening of February 29, 2020. A friend called to warn us about the recent Covid-19 development in Iceland — there had been one, the first confirmed case that day. We were scheduled to fly out the next day to Iceland for a two…

Ritima Sharma

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