Prose

These white shoes were a terrible idea; they didn’t stay white for long. Look, how mud encroaches from the sides, advancing its hidden campaign every day. Soon, I will be surrounded, and with no Russia in this young rubber to keep wear at bay, it’ll be an easy victory. But while they last, these shoes feel good. And they came cheap. 4 minutes into this run and I can already see the future. It happens as I caress the soft dirt below me, feeling the slightest undulations through my thin soles. Life is full of ups and downs, what matters is how you approach them. Am I tilted forward at the right angle, or are my priorities askew? I should have bent my knees there; it’s easier for me to land through the heel but ten years from now, I’ll regret taking the easy road. I am my harshest critic and most intimate confidante at once. With every step, the ground brushes against the crystal ball at my feet, and all that I will yet feel is laid bare before me. ...

So this is a “non-fiction” article (insomuch as is possible, given the topic, apocalypses) I wrote for our intra-hostel creative writing event. We placed 2nd, so I presume it had a non-negative contribution towards that result. I would like to point out at the offset that I am not a proponent of antiestablishmentarianism 1, and my own views on society are relatively over-optimistic. I will probably write about them some time. ...

Here is my 3rd place “winning” entry for Saarang Creative Writing (posting here just for the sake of it, and because something reminded me of the title). It’s a bit of an abstract piece, and admittedly a bit shabby here and there. Commentary shall follow at the end Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost… But Some Are “Have you heard about the murder case?” “Hmm… It seems like I have a particularly nasty homicide on my hands. Particularly nasty indeed…” ...

I found a story I wrote way back in 10th I think. I like the style, and I find it comical how introvert-ish I was back then. Brings back some vivid memories and feelings. I still can’t deny that the human race is way too complicated and artificial for it’s own good. Untitled1 As he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated. Life had been good to him. He had whatever he wanted, a secure job, a wife, a son, and an active social life. Though, he liked his socialite status, he felt happiest when he was alone, and gazing up into the sky. It was a beautiful sky, a nice light shade of blue with no sun, and a few large clouds. It was a dark sky, one ready to burst open with rain, and wash all of his troubles away. ...

This is my entry for Shaastra’s Online Science Fiction Writing contest (Shaastra is my college’s annual technical festival). It was judged by Cory Doctrow, and won first place. I am estatic. In retrospect, I’ve noticed several places where I really screwed up my “flow” and lost “coherency” (quotes because I can’t exactly define either) and other where I just pushed ahead too fast, but I guess Cory liked the underlying story (hey, I’m not complaining ;-)). Either way, credit where it’s due: ...