Anirudh Bhardwaj - The official blog | Poems | Short Stories | Articles

The night was alive with rain and thunder. Kuala Lumpur’s suburbs seemed drenched in silver sheets as traffic crawled through flooded streets. Outside Berjaya Times Square, Aman stood once again without an umbrella, his shirt already clinging to his skin, his hair plastered across his forehead. The Imbi Monorail station was just a few minutes away, but the sky had turned into an unforgiving waterfall. For ten minutes, he hovered under the mall’s entrance, watching the crowd scatter into taxis, buses, and the shelter of umbrellas. The last train to Butterworth was in less than half an hour, and KL Sentral was still three stations away. He sighed, tightened his backpack straps, and decided there was no point waiting anymore. The rain would win, as it always did. By the time he reached KL Sentral, his shoes squelched with every step. He sprinted toward the KTM Komuter terminal, weaving through the crowd, lungs burning. The clock ticked cruelly close to departure. And then, it happened. So...

Bukit Bintang was buzzing, even under the tyranny of the early monsoon rain. The sky, swollen and gray since morning, poured relentlessly onto Kuala Lumpur’s busiest streets. A mist of vapor rose from hot asphalt every time the water hit, weaving with the steam of satay stalls and the tang of roasted chestnuts.  At four in the afternoon, the rain showed no sign of mercy. Aman stood outside the iconic Pavilion Mall, drenched from head to toe. He had been foolish to step out without an umbrella, and now the rain had claimed its victory. His shirt clung stubbornly to his skin, his jeans were heavy, and his shoes squeaked with every step. He had tried standing under an awning for shelter, but by then it was already too late, the storm had embraced him fully. For twenty minutes, his fingers had danced impatiently across his phone screen, switching between Uber and GRAB. Each time, the same result: no drivers available. Everyone was avoiding the streets in this downpour, except for the d...

When I woke, the morning light was streaming in through a gap in the curtains. It was 9:45. I reached out instinctively, but the space beside me was empty, the bedsheet cold. “Jhanvi?” I called out softly, scanning the room. No answer. Her bag was gone. The scarf she’d been wearing the night before — gone. Even the faint scent of her perfume seemed to have disappeared into the air. A tightness grew in my chest as I checked the terrace, the bathroom, the corridors outside. She was nowhere. It felt as if the night before had been a dream — one of those vivid ones that leave you unsettled when you wake. A knock broke the silence. When I opened the door, a housekeeping guy stood there holding a tray. “Miss Jhanvi asked me to give you this breakfast,” he said with a polite nod. On the tray was a simple but comforting spread: hot aloo parathas with a square of butter melting slowly on top, a small bowl of curd, tangy mango pickle, and a steel kettle of masala chai. He walked in, set the tray...

The night air in Jodhpur had that peculiar weight to it - cool, yet laced with the faint warmth of the day that lingered in the sandstone walls. We were sitting on the terrace of RAAS, the kind of place where the Mehrangarh Fort doesn’t just dominate the skyline — it breathes over you. Lit up in gold, it looked like an ancient guardian watching over the blue city. Jhanvi sat opposite me, elbows resting on the low parapet, a cigarette between her fingers. Except tonight, it wasn’t a cigarette. She took a slow drag, eyes half-closed, then exhaled in lazy swirls that curled and disappeared into the darkness. Without a word, she offered me the joint. “You should try it,” she said, a playful defiance in her tone. I hesitated. I’d never touched the stuff before. But something about her — her restlessness, her untamed energy — made refusal impossible. I took it, awkwardly mimicking her grip, and inhaled far too quickly. The taste was sharp, unfamiliar, the smoke heavier than I expected. I cou...

It was a hot sunny day in the month of February. As the scorching heat receded and the sunset approached, I went to my favorite evening hideout. There is this ancient stepwell (Baori) called Toorji Ka Jhalra in the old city where I often go in the evening for some quiet introspection. For the past few days though, the visits have been more frequent, not to mention the increased amount of time that I’ve been spending there lately. I don’t even know why I have been going there every day since last Friday or what I’m going to achieve through my regular visits in the evening. But there is something that’s drawn my attention quite recently. And although my brain will never admit, my heart knows deep down inside that it’s the very reason for my frequent visits to this place.  Oh, you must be wondering how the heck is it so hot in the month of February, right? Well, that depends on where the story begins. While most stories are usually nestled in isolated places and scenic locations, mine...

Profile Corona | जरुर पढो ना  In Wuhan Virology lab born and dwelled,  After massy homicides, across the world traveled.  Worldwide holocaust it is committed to give,  A sworn enemy of the right to live.  Out on world tour this killer of humanity,  Surreptitiously delivers havoc in charity.  Facing social distancing it is in India now,  For the time being, struggling to survive somehow.  Anticipating Modi's lockdown to successfully continue,  Finds no human body on the road to enter into.  Now is planning to leave India soon,  Nobody knows where will Corona be on honeymoon. - By Chetan S. Bhardwaj

She was standing there at the Jetty. Looking at a distant ship, she hoped to be on one. So she could just run away from all the trouble this life had been giving her lately. She was looking for an escape. And that's probably the reason why she had come thousands of miles away from her hometown, hoping to leave her worries behind. But that didn’t seem to help either. In a city full of strangers, she felt vulnerable. And why not? She had never been anywhere alone after all. And this unplanned trip to Goa was never on her bucket list. Of course, she wanted to come here, but not like this. Not as a loner who was looking for a peace of mind. But the turn of events that took place lately changed everything. And after all that happened, she wanted to get as far away from that place as possible and landed up here in Goa. Yashasvi had just completed her post graduation and in the weeks that followed, she found herself surrounded by sorrow and trepidation. At the age of 26, Yashasvi ha...

In the moonlit night she walks by the sea Searching for the gilded chest she once had concealed. The time has flown, the daddy's little princess has grown. In search of the forgotten teenage mire, She strives to leave past her lecherous desire. Staring at the surface, she prays for an Alchemy Turning lead into gold, transcendence is what she needs. Reflecting in the water, her teenage self smiles back Reminding of the talismanic evenings, she once had. Now as a woman, she is so consumed in her household chores Keeping others happy in spite of her immaterial woes. Her world has changed, in so many ways She hardly remembers those carefree days. But searching for the gilded chest, she would never leave For it would unleash, the long lost Alchemy. And on a fine evening as the whole world sleeps Turning lead into gold, she would break free. - Anirudh Bhardwaj

Keeping my cell phone on the lower shelf of the counter, I took a step outside to admire the beautiful weather. Sensing the petrichor that scented up the surroundings, I could tell that a thunderstorm was fast approaching. The arrival of monsoon in Pune is a moment to rejoice. Tiny raindrops embracing your face like a gentle breeze, it’s something you can’t experience anywhere else. Standing on the front porch outside my cafe, I could see people enjoying the moment. Seeing their smiling faces, I felt intoxicated all of a sudden. Like all my worries were fading into thin air. Soon enough, the dark blue skies started pouring rain, and I stepped inside. As I sat on the executive chair, my eyes scanned the interior to know the current occupancy. The cafe was almost empty. Except for a girl who drew my attention the moment I saw her. It wasn’t really the girl who drew my attention, but the book she was reading. Partly because the book was all I could see, for her face was right be...