Rachna Singh
Musings
The Lady In Yellow
THE dusty winds of May herald her arrival. She enters the city with a gentle rustle of satiny skirts.A glimpse of yellow against a dark green foliage or the russet brown of autumn leaves...
Fireflies On the Hillside
The evening was dark and gloomy. Black clouds threatened rain and thunder. Strong winds had begun to churn up the air. The heavens opened up and rain pelted down on the parched earth.
Ode to A summer Songstress
It is a scorching May afternoon. As I watch from my perch at the window, the streets empty out as denizens of the city retreat into the cool confines of their houses for a much-needed siesta.
The Lady In Yellow
THE dusty winds of May herald her arrival. She enters the city with a gentle rustle of satiny skirts.A glimpse of yellow against a dark green foliage or the russet brown of autumn leaves is the only indication of her presence
Fireflies On the Hillside
The evening was dark and gloomy. Black clouds threatened rain and thunder. Strong winds had begun to churn up the air. The heavens opened up and rain pelted down on the parched earth.
Ode to A summer Songstress
It is a scorching May afternoon. As I watch from my perch at the window, the streets empty out as denizens of the city retreat into the cool confines of their houses for a much-needed siesta.