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Rupesh.U.K is a passionate writer who just likes to write. He had authored a novelette called ‘The Trodden Paths’ and continues in his passion to write more books.

Category: Experience

  • The Sweat Summer Teaboy

    The Sweat Summer Teaboy No one knows why they called it that way, but I guess it was just meant to be called anyway. The Moon Rock Apartments, an old three -storied millennial structure, which had housed countless bachelors (most notoriously known for Sam Valappil John for weed consumption), had seen several Indian summers come…

  • Coming Home Now

    1 Bruce could not sleep. He had just woken up, hearing a weeping sound. His mom had been weeping often. She did that in her sleep. Bruce did not dare disturb her, for whatever reasons she’d wept. ‘I see bad dreams,’ she’d told Dad the next day. ‘Maybe the pakoras you ate last evening could…

  • The Light of Clarity

    One more day ends. One more evening passes with the changing pallor of the sky, from grey to black, where the stars twinkle so bright as if giving the onlooker a tiny flame of hope, reminding the refuge of the dusk that a new day awaits next. I too seek a refuge. Not as the…

  • The Power of Positivity

    Thinking of ‘Positivity’, I often build an imagery of the blossoming Morning Glory flowers in a classic summer month, where I’m seated with my laptop in a woodden chair, in a rose wood cottage in the middle of a meadow. In the same imagery, and across the only window behind the pale-yellow blinds, I see…

  • The Genie

    1 There is a difference listening to Cherry Valley and Sombr, sung by the same singer, when the singer was at two phases of his life, and conveying different attitudes towards life. Bruce of Al Nahda, Sharjah, never understood that (he still wears his underwear backward-front until mom notices that he did wear one). Bruce…

  • Memory

    It’s the same. The green building of my school, and the windows that look at the road. The damp road, of the monsoon rain, which stretches like a snake towards the Mangaladevi Temple at one extreme and the Hampankatta at the other, the road that I have tread holding my parents’ hands, still withheld the…

  • From The Heavens

    It’s been more than a month since I have written a single word to amuse myself as a writer, but, frankly put, I have been on a determined walk with the carrot hanging in front of my face. Such a walk never ends, and, I have been walking the entire month of April.  I was…

  • A Prelude to Wisdom

    What we saw left us in a state of trance. We were in awe! What was it, for the love of God? An Oasis in a desert? Or a Prelude to Wisdom? It was the Holy Month of Ramadan in 2025. The charm of Spring, coupled with a free weekend, prompted us to plan a…

  • The Afterlife

    It believed in the afterlife. It gave them life. 1 My orchard is a gardener’s dream, surreal like abstract art, so beautiful that I dare not wake up if it was one. Having such a dream is a merit, an embodiment of Eden. I was preparing my garden for spring, which is nesting season. The…

  • The Year That Went By

    I started this year calling Stephen King as ‘My Father’. Not that, I had a tussle with my biological father. I’d never do that. It’s only that I wanted to spend some time writing, and the King was probably the only best source of encouragement at that. The result – Quite an achievement, isn’t it?…