Tushar Jain

My heart yearns for contact. I feel that this desolate life, its segregations and vanity has kept to me its vastly aggressive and alluring, if not impressive, promise of seductive isolation.

Family, like sex, is a mature word. And like sex, it is word for relations; not physical, but social. And like most social relations, it is reliant on compromises.

The most cumbersome issues that have ever been raised or pressed have had the liability of being the enormously uncertain part of a suggestion or a reckoning.

In many ways, preventing this from being a plaintive and plangent panegyric, I would like to interpolate and expound, as I shortly shall, in regard to the less-furnished and integral ambit of a mother, a subtle thing of no mercenary protocol, being...

This article does not discuss what to write or how to write, but merely a favorite – why to write. The world appears in its dissatisfactions. Potential lies in the prospect that desires to change it, and prosperity lies in the chaotic chase...

I am Tushar Jain, a student of literature. This subject, literature, is one which is susceptible to every clause scripted, every letter sculpted, and is liable to get one enamored by vacuous words like ‘subjective’.