Writer

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Psst. Come check out my instagram!

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Psst. Come check out my instagram!

https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm

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https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm

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Boar deities in India have strange origin stories attached to them. They are sometimes embedded with spiritual and social commentaries too!

Boar deities of India - 3 stories

A look into the fascinating stories behind anthropomorphic worship in India

Here's a fascinating account of the boar deities of India!

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It was my understanding that a forever was written in my cards with you. Chiseled into stones old as time, mossed over with foliage, surviving many crusades. A prophecy. In the atmosphere I breathe, hyphal lace through peat, I heard whispers from beyond Eocene, where the universe hung like a drop of dew from a cosmic leaf. It was always meant to be.

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First off, why did ALL the king's horses AND the king's men want to put Humpty Dumpty back together again?

What dirt did Humpty Dumpty have that made him so important?

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Despite what the liberal media made you believe, Hympty Dumpty's fall was his own fault.

I am no eggs-pert but what were all the king's horses and king's men supposed to do with a scrambled egg?

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Indian folktale warns about...

Hello Tumbler dwellers!

I had been on a mission to revive the Indian folktales that are on the verge of being forgotten.

Here is a story (link) that tells us how untold stories tend to take revenge on cowardly storytellers!

Why stories should be told?

Analysis of an Indian folktale that warns us about how untold stories take revenge on cowardly storytellers.

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Who knew that outlining a novel would take WEEKS because new ideas keep popping up and you just HAVE to alter the outline ever so slightly each time but now you can't sleep because your anamorphic muse whispers more details into your ears each night and you wake up wanting to redo the whole thing again, oncemore, endlessly, but this also gives you anxiety beacause you haven't actually written anything yet?

No? Just me? Ok.

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https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm

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I could go on and on about how much I dislike social media presence as a writer. I don't quite feel comfortable to market myself or my work. I've recently realized - thanks to Threads - that a lot of writers share this feeling.

While I do not yet know how to deal with it, I want to say that putting myself out there had bought me in contact with so many good writers out there. I had now way of reading their works without being online.

There's pros as there are cons to this. And maybe one day I will learn to be at peace with it.

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The cheapo cameras of the 90's - disposable, so to speak - captured a memory.

In a carnival, I tease my sister with a kiss. I don't go through with it. She would scream in rejection. Mouth wide open. An angry siren. At the time, only seven. She wouldn't live to see thirteen.

Whenever I come across the photo in albums, it fades a little. A deeper shade of brown saturates all colors. I hold it like burnt paper that crumbles. I make a promise. If I get a redo, this time around, I will complete my kiss. Say cheeeeeese. I'd have a wider grin to show.

Gotcha' sis. Please don't leave us.

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Bandits

The bandits who rob

coal coaches know how to

board a moving train.

It's a skill. I'm convinced.

To risk it all. In hopes of

some graphite.

I see the guilty hands

you've tucked behind.

My lost heart like

anthracite. I'd loan you

my life, like a loco pilot

who conspires.

https://www.instagram.com/naveenonpaper?igsh=YThmYnE1a2MzMXZm