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There's a crack in the stained glass panes in the old, ancestral home. Her staircases of old wood still stand guard, weary yet awake, waiting for some semblance of lost time to run up towards the double-doored rooms, that now house only an essence of thick, perfumed English coats, gramophones, sitars, records, books, antiques and…

Scream

Every fragment of the heart lay beating within these barrier eyes learning to refuse outpour roles reversed as the responsible became the responsibility and I chained to company yet utterly alone... No reproof, no corrections for my mistakes, no lessons however I squander away my life is mine to choose yet I must pay in…

Nimbus Fury

Dark clouds roll into the firmament, claiming a dark reign; pouring in their nimbus fury, a torrential bout of rain... © Isha Garg

On the voyage of life…

[Dear reader, I’m sharing another page from my diary, penned many years ago, in an attempt to heal from the death of a loved one, by thinking of and trying to validate in (dramatic) prose, the purpose of existence and the joy of living, and invalidate the stressful, unfounded thoughts (that once gravely afflicted me)…