Anitha Krishnan writes Indian-inspired fantasy fiction with a dash of mysticism and soul-searching. She lives in Burlington, Ontario with her husband and their cherished child.
life, unadulterated
D is one. The only one. (Couldn't resist this!) In the days leading up to D's first birthday, almost everyone I spoke with said to me some variation of this - "Wow! Is he going to be one already? I can't believe it. This
life, unadulterated
D is two days away from turning a year old. And this year, in addition to showing us how to love and live with a whole new tiny human being in our lives, has also been replete with the delight of re-discovering KrA, in his new avatar as a
poetry
A teeny weeny poem of mine is hanging from a tree and fluttering in the summer breeze at the Waterford Township Public Library at Michigan! And it will be there all of this month. It is titled When it Snows in Spring. I am also back to having fun putting
life, unadulterated
I slipped to the other side of mid-30s last year. A year on that side has left me feeling a bit cheated and with the realisation that long ago I was somehow tricked into this business of growing up, and that I have kept at it only half-heartedly
poetry
I walked with you from room to room watched your every step with all my heart sauntered up every lane and alley and street corner beside you, stitching memories together to rein me in, to keep me from falling apart when you’d be gone, for I knew you would
life, unadulterated
In an alternate version of reality, 2016 thus far would have panned out the way I had envisaged last November (or so I’d like to believe). More than twenty new Friday Tales for Demesne would have popped up on the blog so far this year. A first draft of
life, unadulterated
Less than four hours to go before 2015 disappears like it never existed and 2016 descends upon us like a new dawn. I didn’t mean to do an end-of-the-year post but there were two things that came to mind this evening and that I wanted to
life, unadulterated
I am really excited about my birthday this year! The day was spent in furnishing a new place we are moving to next weekend. And somehow this 'paving the way for the new' looks set to be the theme for my writing this year. There are 3 major
tales for dreamers
The Piano Man is no Pied Piper for he makes no demands, but he too seeks something no mortal can give him.
poetry
Clouds have a tendency to drift, To change colours and to shape-shift The sky bears mute testimony to their capricious dance The leaves are no less mischievous, How they cloak the world in canopies of green, Only to burn scarlet and gold, shrivel up and drift away, The trees
poetry
I press my ears to the wet ground, and listen to the song of the brown earth, My heart pounds my chest, the exertion of having run far too long Now it slows down, falling into step with the dulcet sounds of the woods Hush, now, I hear the leafless
life, unadulterated
Were it not for man’s invention of dates and time, we may not have had new years or birthdays or new centuries. Or, on the contrary, every day would have been a new year, a new day, a new century, a new cause for celebration. However you choose to