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A Gulmohar getaway

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Nestled in the midst of the bustling Thrissur city, is a beautiful escapade for reminiscing one’s colourful, youthful days-GEC Thrissur. Synonymous with the brilliant minds it has churned out for India, GEC is not your regular monotonous college. It’s a place where architecture symphonies with nature. The first thing that fields your vision would be the epitomic towering main building- an embodiment of the architecture of the 50s era. With the layered sunroofs creating a mirage of innumerous windows, one cannot help but feel a sense of majestic splendour at the mere sight of it. The red tainted arch at the dead centre of it all, just adds a beautiful bow to this wholesome package. The beautifully maintained garden at the front is another scenic illusion because it might seem like any other garden at first sight, but as you go in, you see a small pond with a Jamun tree wielding branches on to the pond, just like out of a tranquil scenic picture. As you walk past the vast corridors...
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The Prophet Scribbler

Millions of people throng the Delhi metro. Everyday glum faces commute between work and home. Their eyes glued to their mobile phones, the blue light of the screens casting an enchanting aura around them, drowning out from the mundanity that surrounds them. Commuting in the metro, I came to realise, is a grim affair. You rarely get to see anything bright. Rarer is finding someone with a book. But today as I was people watching around the not so crowded Magenta Line Metro, a well dressed smart young man came and sat opposite me. His handsome face with combed hair, faded jeans and a yellow kurta caught my inquisitive eye. He sat down and scanned around him catching my eye. A perplexed though seemed to have crossed his mind for it foreshadowed his pleasant demeanour. He then scanned the rest of the coach and with a visible sigh opened the book he was carrying. I have the unusual habit of craning my neck like an owl to see what others might be reading. I vaguely made out the title....
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The kites of Jamia Milia

Every evening  I made my way past the Jamia Milia Islamia University in the magenta line metro, towards my hostel in Jasola Vihar. Once the beautiful white domes and minarets of the university are passed the metro line divides the underlying community into two sides. On my left side there are shabby apartments with daunting black water tanks on their roofs, with many other wider assortments of building stacked too close together leaving no space to breathe, each building in various states of deterioration; paints peeling down or coated with the undulating Delhi pollution, a visual testament of the clear disregard for aesthetics of the Delhites. On the right side lives the upper class with their state of art air conditioners sputtering to cleanse out the air, sunroofs marred by exotic green plants, well-lit apartments with their beige coloured paints intact. The first time, I sat facing the right side window, I whizzed past the mostly deserted balconies of plush apartments occa...
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