A micro story that un-reads art with a shade of darker inks, chilling spines and unexpected twists.

The art of surviving alone, amidst a million others...

A conversation about what Mahalaya means to us, how things have changed over time and what Durga pujo might mean to the bangalis this year.... A conventional pujor adda with added anecdotes and personal experiences...

The ethnic beauty of ornamentals, draped inside a Pandora's box of pain...the silent march towards estrangement, to the moment of till death do us part.

The fight to escape yourself, the desire to be someone else....the love of escapism from oneself.

The serene ambience of dimming, entwined with the grace of wrinkles...

The thought of magnifique. The shadows of contrast. The world of black and white. In a world of deadly colours.

The truth of sanity. The beauty of midnight musings. The irony of speaking your heart out, when all that anyone wants, are lies.

The torn memorabilia of rusted diary pages, overwritten by the truth of momentary thoughts....

"Timing is everything, if it's meant to happen, it will happen..."