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Continue reading →: Twenty-five
I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again. I am not equipped to deal with the restlessness that comes with long periods of blog abandonment. A voice starts screaming in my head, “WRITE, ASTHA! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN?” So, well done, Astha. You finally decided…
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Continue reading →: The cold hard truth about break-ups
You know what I’m beginning to think is a load of poppycock? When people say they are friends with their exes. Sure, it may actually happen in those rare, miraculous cases where everything in both people’s lives is hunky dory, but more often than not, it doesn’t. When you have…
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Continue reading →: The empty runway
His life was like being at the airport. As if his entire existence pointed towards one objective: waiting for his flight. There was no way out of it. It was a ceaseless, relentless, agonizing wait. Her life was like being on a flight. Held captive by an unstoppable holding pattern.…
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Continue reading →: Of dragonflies and adulthood
Today was a glorious morning. I woke up, and when I drew my curtains apart, I was greeted by a day that most people would call ‘gloomy.’ The sky was overcast with puffy, grey clouds. It was drizzling, breezy and chilly. You have to understand that in India, we usually…
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Continue reading →: Goodbye, Kentucky
A short story inspired by Iron and Wine, and sleepless nights. Dear Danielle, From the day you moved in to the farm, I knew I could talk to you. I had spent many a day alone, tending to the farm all by myself, with only the hens and the chickens…
Hello,
I’m Astha
Welcome to my blog. I use this space as a pensieve: a place to store my memories and feelings. It’s a rest house. An easy chair. A watering hole for the soul. I’m glad you’re here. Take a look around, make yourself at home ☕
Butterflies and Hurricanes 