Monday, March 25

The Havoc

Image Source : here

Rita watched unblinkingly at the shimmering silver disco ball wavering in the air, her throbbing pulse pounding fervently against her clammy skin.  She gasped every now and then as her heart seemed to be sucked in more and more into the mysterious depths of her insides, weighed down by her distraught thoughts. 

The thumping sound of the sturdy glass being knocked against the pedestal on which she rested her arms snapped her back to the present. The rewarding sight of the amber coloured liquid sifting swiftly inside the glass pacified her, for hadn't been for the liquid, she would have swooned right there in the middle of the exhilarated flock of party goers. Not that anyone would have noticed considering the dwindling level of orientation amongst the youngsters gathered there, still the fact that she had not a person to assist her if such a dire situation arose crippled her. 

In a swift irresistible motion of her hands, she had gulped down the drink which eased through her parched sweltering throat. 

Rita huffed in between her conflicting thoughts. When she accidentally tripped onto him that particular wry night while hustling back to her house, not even a fleeting thought had passed through her mind that he would later be an inevitable part of her love life.

The many enticing nights they had huddled together in his bed sprang to her mind and along with that treasured memory, also strolled towards her his promise that he would never ever part her, come hell or high water. He wasn't lying that much she knew, for she alone possessed that gratifying power to pry behind the mystic veil that cloaked his gaze every time he smiled at her. Or so, she always prided. 

But how unexpectedly things had started changing shades! How bizarre had been the turn of events since he started acquainting with that rusty looking guy from the neighbourhood.

With the gusto with which he was advancing with his nefarious motive, she feared that he would be cornered by the law one day or the other and this daunting thought had been haunting her night and day over the past one week.

' Was i wrong in threatening him to go public on his misdeed? But that was just to bring him around, why don't he get it! ' 

She winced in agony as the hurt expression that loomed on his flushed face, when she disclosed to him that she knew about his unlawful deeds, flashed across her mind. He was tranforming into a queer personality, utterly weighed down by insanity day by day and that was something which she couldn't simply sit back and watch happening. 

Nervously, Rita tapped her fingers against the sides of her glass as a gazillion unbridled apprehensions started pestering her one after the other.

'Maybe if i talk to him once again tomorrow morning, scraping back my disconcerting tone, he would pay heed to my words and abstain from his rapacious deals '

The slight movement of a couple heading to the exit hand in hand, chuckling in between sweet whispers, reminded her that she needed to drive back alone. She couldn't afford to binge and that sensible nugget pulled her back from opting to stretch her meandering at the place into the dark. Mustering the strength to pull herself up from her seat, she walked towards her car parked in the dark, the staggering more owing to the turmoil strutting inside her than due to inebriation. 

The moon was shining the brightest, showering a milky blanket over the surroundings. A light refreshing breeze swished past her, on the cue to which she wrapped herself in her arms, pacified by nature's comforting gesture.

An eerie silence reverberated in the deserted parking lot which made her quiver a bit. All at once, as if to prove her worst fears right, a sense of vertigo blinded her which seemed to over haul her more and more in each passing second. Whether it was due to the overpowering drink or due to the hot rush of hormones seeping  into the kinky recesses of her cacophonous brain, she couldn't conjure a reason that harrowing moment. 

For the very next second, she had slumped to the floor as if in a bolt, a groan escaping her throat.

She watched in bewilderment and disbelief as warm gush of blood spurted out from the nape of her neck, as if in a hurry to escape its caged life inside the strangulating vessels that channelled through her body. Rita felt her soul draining out from her body with each beat of her thready pulse. As the tired shutters of her weary eyes started drooping forever, she felt consoling hands hugging her close in between muffled sobs and apologies. 

His hands which grazed her cheeks a final time, instead of the scent she was so familiar with, now reeked of the unpleasant waft of fresh gunpowder.  


Friday, March 22

So Far So Good

Image Source : here

It has been long since i confided anything personal here. The last time i did was long back, here on this page. If the nerve wrecking, gut crunching P.G entrance preparations was the excuse for the redundancy in 2012, then its the absolute state of nirvana that i drift through post the biggest hurdle in a doctor's life, ( read post graduate entrance exam ) sans any dire commitments, is the excuse in 2013. 

There hasn't been much happening around here lately. As the last one year was extremely demanding, blame the coaching classes and the single minded diligent regurgitation of 6 years medical course material from the convoluted sulci and gyri of my brain, i thought of taking some time off, baring my mind from the medical shroud for a matter of few months, so that when the results would bë out by January end i would be all revived to either take up a pg course of my desired surgical speciality or to hit my objective books for the next round if didn't make it. As they say, life is no skiing game nor is it predictable in any amount. The result never came. Locked in a legal quagmire, supposedly, the results will be out only after the mockery in the name of court proceedings are over.

Not anticipating fate's foul play, the passionate me had conjured up a plan to make the best use of this small vacation of sorts. I had made a mental note of the things i would be doing after the examination with the same fervour with which i juggled medicine, surgery, gynaec and pediatrics objective revision papers. And the plan was to :

1. Read as many books as would satiate my mind cleansing it off the exam fever

2. Write to my heart's content.

3. Refresh my driving lessons ( the last time i had my rendezvous with the steering wheel being 8 years back during my driving test ).

4. Watch movies back to back.

5. Have a decent hair cut ( my locks are now twice the length of what is visible on my profile pic ) and

6. Visit my grandmother back at our native place from time to time.

 Except the haircut, all other wishes yielded fruits. My hair, to my awe, is untiringly continuing its growth sans a Tresemme or a Sun Silk therapy , that i cant make up my mind to crop it short even by one inch ( Aah, girls !). The wait is on now for the split ends to take charge so that i could head for the salon in the pretense of saving my locks rather than for that long over due make over ( Heard fringes are in ? )

Finishing a medical course, or any course for that matter is not so much of a pleasant feeling, especially for a girl. The M word relentlessly pops up in every other group discussion. The M word has been playing around in the air for a few years now. Belonging to the minority section of arranged marriage loathers, i declared long back that i would remain optionally single till the right guy arrives, something which has been mocked at and frowned upon by my parents. 

While my amma had her first encounter with the contraption called laptop when she had to enroll me on the online eligible brides list , my father had his first encounter with humility when i turned down the first guy who came to see me, toted with endless degrees to heighten his charm ( Kukki turning down Hrithik in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara? Na, he was no Hrithik, though that had little to do with the decision ). And eventually, the obstinate me emerged successful and unscathed. I am granted permission to slog around in solitude until a divine intervention occurs, though i don't trust my parents much in that regard. I suspect callosity in that promise. After all isn't M the sole purpose of life? Sigh!  

Considering that my over ambitious crush list ranged from SRK post DDLJ (blame his dimples) to Keanu Reeves post Matrix to DADA post the 183 runs milestone / that mesmerising catch to dismiss Saeed Anwar at 194 to Chester Bennington post the Hybrid Theory, to Ryan Reynolds post The Proposal and nobody in particular lately, i don't have much hopes for me actually. Maybe one day, after a couple of years of wait, i would succumb to my parent's advice, admitting the impracticability of my wistfulness , to be greeted by that epic ' Told you so look ' from all quarters.

Jokes apart, life is going slow, albeit steady now. The pleasures of a vacation are many. My parents are back to pampering me as to a two year old now. During my years of college they used to treat me with utmost gravity, as i used to return home every month from hostel with used masks and head caps stuffed in my baggage, which my parents used to awe at unblinkingly ( we used to tie those used ones around the tap in our hostel because those acted as the perfect filter for the tiny worms that were inevitable parts of the tap water - fighting germs the medicos way ! ). Everything is back to square one these days. Amma wakes me up with a cup of tea and i sit dabbling in whatever thoughts that shoot through my mind all day. Peace.

Or maybe i should right away join the nearest hospital available. The good thing about this profession is that any hospital would appoint us as casualty medical officer if we approach them with our registration certificate. We are offered to take part time emergency duties too where they pay us for every hour we tend to the patients. What keeps me back for the time being is the fact that i felt like i needed a break. As history has it, ' the break ' has surpassed boundaries and now i have started feeling all irky. I really really hope for the results to be out soon. I love my profession and i seriously miss the hospital corridors , the many procedures and the casualty duties. Moreover, the exaggerated amount of idleness has started seeping into my joints and i am utterly lazy even to walk around inside my home these days. Grave!  


Thursday, March 21

The Lure

An attempt of Ethere, a form of poetry written in ten lines, with each line accomodating the number of syllables as its line number.

Dash of 
Blush cluster
On dimpled cheeks
His looks sensuous
Bated breath loquacious
Of bait, his defiant charm;
Breeze sultry, sprinkling pearly drop
On chiseled face, it trickles down
Melting to specks beneath sauve gliding touch. 


Another one : 

They smell
Of dust speckle
Engraved grey
Amidst tangled words
In its swooping sly waft
Hauled into mystic depths
Of love, truth, fear and fantasy, 
The many resplendent emotions
I succumb to lure - my retribution.


Sunday, March 17

Cacophony - Haiku

Image Source : here


Little girl cries
As parents fight loud -
  Insignificant pain.


Cluttering bangles
On soft dainty arms -
Uncharted symphony.


Poignant rants 
For once he lay
  Deaf to her pain.

Written for Haiku Heights . Prompt - Cacophony.

P.S :  I haven't focussed on the prompt per se, rather wrote sets of haiku inspired by the theme. I hope that is allowed. Thank you all for the comments :)

Swallow - Haiku

Image Source : here

Scent of spring
 Wades through air 
Signalling birth.

Signalling birth 
Tiny male swallow
Prepares cradle.

Written for Carpe Diem. Prompt - Tsubame ( swallow )

Friday, March 15

The Rainbow

Image Source : here

Twiddling her fingers, more on a habit than owing to impatience, Mira reclined back on her favourite spot at the extreme west corner of the park. She shuddered a little as the damp, cold metal surface of the sturdy bench pressed against her shoulder, thrusting a bolt of shiver through her petite body. A mellow pleasing tune had been sprouting inside her since morning and now, when the situation was least appeasing, the song was starting to wriggle free from the constraints of her mind. Repressing the urge to hum out the tune loudly, Mira diverted her thoughts to the lush greenery extending before her in all its splendour. 

Again, more on habit than on irkness, she rolled back the frilled lacy fringes of her sleeve to check the progress of time on her watch - the gleaming silver hands of her watch pointed it to be 5 0 ' clock in the evening . As if to prove the machine right, a cluster of clouds started drifting over her, imparting multiple shades of saffron hues to the sky . 

'This is so beautiful ' - Mira exclaimed as her pupils dilated as if in a trance to imbibe every bit of the mesmerising sight being presented to her by nature.  

Saffron has always been the most preferred colour of her choice. To her, the colour seemed to exude a melange of intense qualities. Any shade of saffron was enigmatic, alluring, boisterous and zestful all at once for her and intentionally or not, she always secured a saffron piece of cloth for the most auspicious of the occasions.

A cold moist breeze swept past her skin softly, taking care not to disturb the serenity lingering around her spot in the park.

Ahead of her, on the supple green meadow, sat a young couple encased in a bubble of their own, oblivious to  the many furtive glances thrown at them from the many corners of the park. The girl, seemingly in her early twenties, was snuffling every now and then, inviting a cascade of deep felt emotions in the form of endearing gestures from the boy, sometimes a graze of his fingers wiping her tears from her flushed red cheeks and at other times a consoling touch on her trembling hand. He seemed absolutely astounded on being indulging in the outwardly experience of confronting and comforting a goddess suffering in agony, something which would melt even the most insensitive of male hearts, at least in the blooming stage of a relation. 

' Life is indeed all about love in its multifarious forms '

 Half way through her thoughts, Mira smiled as she watched the girl lean her head against his shoulder, but the very next moment she was snapped back from her reverie as a lady cuddling a crying baby approached her spot. Mira slided on her seat to offer her space, finding that the lady was almost in tatters trying to pacify the frenzied child. 

' Do you need any help ?' , Mira asked the lady in her controlled voice. 

' Thank you . But its okay, my husband will soon join me. ' , the lady replied smiling, touched by Mira's kindness. 

' Kids are so demanding, isn't ? ' Mira stated while she bend down to pick the baby's cloth that had slipped out from the lady's grasp.  

' Oh yes, they are. In a bitter sweet way. They arrive storming into our lives walloping our minds in every which way possible, but eventually brighten our lives like an enthralling rainbow after the day long menacing drizzle. ' , the lady etched out a metaphor in the blip of a second, which Mira listened to in absolute amusement. 

' Are you a writer ? ' the query blurted itself out from Mira before she could restrain it. 

' Yes, i am. Now that is indeed a surprise, for even my husband never could conjure himself to decipher my metaphorical lines this easily. Oh, still, he is the most wonderful person in the whole world, I would say sans doubt ‘.

Seeing the eager expression on Mira’s face, she continued, though a bit reluctantly.

‘ You know, I used to be one of those secluded women who would cringe at the thought of marriage for fear that my much treasured freedom would be encroached and enslaved. How wrong I was, when I come to think of it now. Every stage of life has its merits and demerits. Somehow or the other, the merits always vanquish the downsides to propel life forward through thick and through thin. You just need to grab on steadfast, trusting your insights for the sight of a rainbow always awaits around the sharpest corner. '

Pausing for a second, the lady continued with much fervour dominating her demeanour. 

 ' Are you married ? If yes, you will surely understand what I am saying ‘, the lady enquired wrapping up her evocative flow of thoughts.

‘No i am not married, but i am definitely starting to understand what you are saying ‘ Mira said as her eyes coyly danced around. 

Noticing the curiousity flickering on the lady's face, Mira thought of explaining herself, but was stopped short by the lady who was staring ahead across the other end of the park.

‘ Look back. Somebody is calling out for you ‘, Mira glanced back promptly on the cue.

A smile broke out on her blushing face as she waved back exultingly at the person who was slowly turning to be the cynosure of her brimming delightful thought bits. 

' He came for me ' Mira told the lady in an exhilirated manner as she stood up to join her fiancee. 

Maybe her mind had retreated to its loquacious mood on seeing her love, for she sure did miss the glint of acknowledgement that shimmered on the lady’s smiling face as she watched Mira walk away in joyous strides. 


Thursday, March 14

End Of Snow - Haiku

Image Source : here

 Sun shines down
   On snow perched sprout -
 Blooming life.

 Blooming life -
 As damp tracks languish
   Beneath floral mat. 

Written for Carpe Diem.

Tuesday, March 12

Origami - Haiku

Image Source : here

      Life afresh
     Sailing paper boats -
     Old love letters.

Image Source : here

    Incessant cries
    Paper furled to crane -
    Poor man's toy.

Written for Haiku Heights . Prompt - Origami

Love Hurts, Love Heals - Book Review

The Title : Love Hurts, Love Heals
Author :  Sundeep Tibrewal
Publication : APK Publishers
Label : Non- Fiction
Price : Rs. 195
    ISBN - 13 : 9789381791141
  • Pages  : 154
  • Year : 2012

The Story In Short :

 Love Hurts, Love Heals is a short yet stirring autobiographical account of the author Sundeep Tibrewal. The story begins with an interesting and absolutely enticing account of the author’s first meeting with his future bride Neha, every single slice of the event unfurling in the traditional Hindu pattern. After having exchanged mutual consents for marriage, Sundeep and Neha embark on their committed journey together, having promised each other to take care of their partner in sickness and in health. In the next few chapters the reader is taken on an imaginary ride through the many incidents of their married life – about Sundeep’s plan to enroll for one year of formal training in MBA at ISB, Hyderabad, how Neha accompanied him to the college campus and her compassionate deeds in company of the spouses gang to teach the caretaker’s kids during their spare time, their return to Kolkata, where they were originally based, at the time of Neha’s pregnancy, about Sundeep’s passion to make it big in entrepreneurship and finally, albeit most importantly about the marvellous time with their angelic daughter Jiya. Like a bolting from thin air, an egregious news shudders the very existence of Sundeep’s life and the later part of the book deals in length and breadth about the inevitable transformation in Sundeep’s life and how he finally came to terms with the unpredictable facet of  life. 

My Take :

The Cover :

The story Love Hurts, Love Heals, basically is a love story and as if to consolidate the goodness and purity of married life, the cover page is glossed with the shade white, exuding serenity and peace. I am not sure whether it was intentional, but after having completed reading the book, I felt that the cover, with the picture of the man and woman holding hands, was designed such that it would highlight the very essence of the story – love and peaceful existence. 

The Story :

The fact that the story is an autobiographical account leaves less space for minute dissections, however I would love to delve deep into the book nonetheless. Take this line on the opening page - 
' It was a very big decision afterall. I thought from the girl's perspective and realised that it would probably be a bigger decision for her since she would have to become a part of a new family ' .  
Doesnt it shout loud about the sensible nature of the protagonist ? Lines like these convince the reader, for they state the otherwise untended truth in its rawness and make him/her trust the author, making the reader feel at home going through the book.

Certain portions like the couple’s trip to Brisbane and Hayman’s Island, the hushed and zestful plans for Neha’s birthday celebration, the birth of their daughter Jiya and the overwhelming emotions engrained into the narration, all these were heart warming, for the author has sketched to life the very basic emotional undercurrents in any persons life. The part where the author describes the heart wrenching event that wrecked the smooth and enviable existence of his family is detailed in a poignant manner and one is sure to be left moved by the author’s mental turmoil. The author also contemplates in depth about the concept of Karma and after lives and about the probable explanations for the imbalanced fate curve of humans. 

The letter to his daughter that the author has knit to the story towards the end, speaks volumes about his love and concern for his daughter. The message that he tries to convey to his daughter is enriched with the lessons that he had amassed in his life time, mostly during the aftermath of the debacle. The revamping of the author’s normal life and the sequence of subtle changes in his routine subsequently, like his diversion towards spirituality and the heightened intense of his family’s care, depicts the resilient nature of humans and consolidates the meaning of the book’s title that ultimately, its love alone that heals the pain caused by its loss.  

The writing is lucid and the author has maintained an appreciable flow till the last page. In the afterword the author speaks about his wife Neha and the intention behind writing this book and the reader is sure to be left applauding the author for his commendable effort for upholding the cause. A fleeting thought on the whirlpool of emotions the author must have gone through while penning down the story brought a pang to my heart. The book serves as an eye opener for the malicious minds existing in our society who vye over trivial matters, for through his book the author proves that love is the sole meaningful expression and that love alone would bring sanctity to our lives. 

Recommended : To all readers who would love to indulge in two hours of evocative read. The admirers of books on subtle emotions of love would especially love this one. 

My Rating :  4 / 5

About The Author

Sundeep Tibrewal is an author and digital marketing professional. He completed his MBA from the Indian School Of Business, Hyderabad. He holds a Master of Science in Engineering from Arizona State University, USA. Currently, Sundeep is the Director of NeoBVM. He was the Chief Product Manager at 9.9 Media, managing thir digital ventures, before NeoBVM. He has also conducted 'Positive Thinking' workshops for school students in Kolkata. 

Buy The Book

Buy the book online at

Get in touch with the author at Love Hurts Love Heals Facebook Page or on his email 

P.S : My sincere gratitude to the author Sundeep Tibrewal for having sent me an autographed copy of the book for review. 

P.P.S : The opinions that are part of this review are entirely the reviewer's. This is not a paid review. 


Friday, March 8

Of Bygones And Those Forgotten Treasures

A Tharavadu In Kerala . Image Source : here

My mother’s ancestral house (Tharavadu ) , a formidable building encased in a vast area of land , is tucked away in a remote village in Quilon district , which happens to be barely two hours from the city I reside .  As was the general norm a few decades back , my mother used to co – inhabit the house with her parents , cousins , nephews , nieces and grandparents , and as she reminisces  to this day , sans doubt , they used to have an enticing life in all its pomp and splendour . The older women of the house helmed the kitchen , while adolescent girls of my mother’s age caressed their babies and adorned them with every piece of fancy ornament they could get their hands on . A few exuberant male members took charge of the land they owned , tending to the coconut and jack fruit trees which blossomed in abundance and a few others who were educated undertook the office works .  My mother , with much effort and determination , used to attend school , not missing a class , though she had to walk for a few kilometers by foot to reach the destination .

A serene and charismatic temple stood in all its pristine beauty facing the house and needless to say , each member of the family , without fail , used to insinuate the habit of visiting the temple two times a day into their daily schedule . My grandmother used to have her much longed for rendezvous with friends of her age at the temple premises where they would sit updating each other on their lives , indeed after offering their devoted prayers to the deity .

My mother would return home by evening and more often than not she would be greeted by the alluring fragrance of the delicacies being fried in the kitchen . A routine it was to relish those succulent dishes in the company of her cousins before they swarmed in the front porch to commence their play sessions . Each member of the family was intricately connected to the other by the resplendent threads of love and togetherness . 

Years passed and my mother earned herself a well renowned job , leaving her with no option but to pack her bags to head to the city where we live now . 

One fine day , my grandmother came to visit us with an intention to spend sometime with her grandchildren not anticipating the many lurking unpleasant experiences in store for her at our place . For a person who spent her entire life cooking dishes for her family ,my grandmother was forced to suffice her hunger with the half brewed food our servant half heartedly churned up every day . Shackled to the glazing walls of our house , while my parents went for work , she had to drag through the day , suppressing her urge to share her thoughts with some one , for there were none in her immediate vicinity to do so . 

Even when i was home from college for the holidays , i rarely could conjure myself to listen to her , blame the multitude of assignments and social networking engagements that devoured me wholly .  Accustomed to the pleasing sight of  vast expanse of lush land spreading out in her neighbourhood back at her home , it came as quite a shock to her the sight of concrete blocks that were independent houses , sprouting up seamlessly , the land stripped of all its existing greenery .  Before we knew , my grandmother had retreated to her niche back in her village , because for her, by the passage of each day the hours seemed to tick away much slower than the previous day  .  

 Today, she is utterly sick, and a quagmire of a situation has incepted out of the blue . Her condition is so dire that my mother has no option but to coax her into returning to our place , something she would ignore doing if she ever had a wish granted . After much persuading she has agreed to come over to stay with us . She is not home yet , but we are expecting her next week sometime . I have taken a resolution to keep her company , at least for a couple of the coming months when i would be staying here at my home - a decision born out of repentance . 

I feel sorry for my grandmother .Who is to blame for this state of affairs ? 

My parents for having had the courage to chase their dreams ? My grandmother who finds it difficult to tear herself away from the land where she nurtured every bit of her happy moments and still hoping to do so till the end of her life ?  Blame the industrialization , mechanization and degradation of relationship values which stimulate humans to withdraw into a self imposed shell of their own concoction , that they barely have time to reciprocate and appreciate the innocence of a baby smiling endearingly at them from across the road or to lend a helping hand to an elderly man stumbling with his stick in his concerted efforts to cross the road ? What about the many such grandparents who are stranded at their ancestral homes , for whom a meeting with their children is limited to the times they spend glancing at their well framed photographs ? 

The world is shrinking to a scary space where individual objectives and dreams outweigh the needs and desires of their kith and kin .

What if you are too late to turn back now ? 

.  We shower praises at cultural practices alien to our country , embrace them like a piece of heaven and even go to the extent of despising our culture as not relevant enough . It takes an expatriate's opinion or some Hollywood movie actress going gaga over Yoga , to knock us back into our senses , pricking the halo of resentment that we weave towards what is indigenous to us . 

. We have the privilege of staying connected with our virtual friends 24hours a day , so why bother dealing with the close ones over a cup of coffee for the sake of sustaining friendship ? 

. Forget the much awaited family outing on the weekend with an intention to keep the fun element sustained , now there are highly diligent boys adorning pretty hats , who with their prompt delivery make sure that you are fed four square meals a day in the comfort of your own home . 

. Why would our kids march in flocks to the neighborhood with a focused intention to stone down swollen ripe mangoes , when they have carton sealed health drinks at their hand's reach enriched with fruits to revive their slogging thoughts , dampened with the constant whirring of a laptop or a head phone ? 

We are indeed sailing on the clouds of heaven , aren't we ! 

Why would anyone with good sense be foolish enough to forgo all these pleasures and set aside time from their seamless schedule for the sake of consolidating familial ties and traditional values ? What could we possibly gain from that ?  Now , that is something which is going to dawn on us on one of those drab , dreary days , when we sit high and dry in that dream mansion of ours , with not a person to share our thoughts with , several years down the lane . 

Let us not fall off the abyss that is being dug around us by our own haphazard deeds .

Let our kids , infact, let US , imbibe the goodness of love - the one power that outlasts all gory revolts and disasters . Is there any better way to let it happen other than by bonding with our best friends since birth - our family members ? Our festivals are so construed that , in addition to the religious practices they stand for , they stress the importance of people confluencing together to share their days with the company of their family members. Not all traditions and festivals are rational i agree , infact, the irrational ones need to be shunned with the same vitality as we practise the sensible ones . And those sensible ones need to be encouraged for they uphold the goodness of togetherness and being there for each other. We should also remember that following traditions ought not to be the end , rather it should be the means to sew the frazzled pieces together , the onus of keeping it glued together would and certainly should rest on us and us alone. 

 By treasuring the traditions that have been passed onto us by our predecessors , by understanding the essence of our past -  our music , our cinema and our literature heritage - and thereby educating our next generation about it , we would be encouraging them to cherish those and be proud of their own lineage and legacy. Instill a passion in them to delve deeper into our history,  so that they would realise the stark truth that , the freedom and grandeur that they relish today was not created overnight by the sweep of a magic wand and so also they shouldn't take those for granted . Let us not forget our roots , the very base of our existence . Let us not thrive this world hoarding a smoke screen in front of our vision , eluding the joy of togetherness and life's small pleasures, for by doing so , in our frenzy to conquer the farthest mile , we stand a risk of missing the precious little milestones that we are blessed with on our way.  

Thursday, March 7

Spring Haze - Haiku

Image Source : here

Chime of the temple gong 
Travels through hazy spring maze -
Safety siren . 

Safety siren
Drifts through eerie forest - 
   Parched loner smiles . 

Written for Carpe Diem . Prompt - Onitsura's Spring Haze 

Tuesday, March 5

Thin Ice - Haiku

Image Source : here

On thin ice 
Admiring sand bed 
Dreamy girl  . 

Dreamy girl
Kisses the sand bed
   Blazing fate .  

Written for Carpe Diem . Prompt - Thin ice ( Usurai )  

Sunday, March 3

At The Bus Stop

Image Source : here

As was his routine for the past few weeks, he waited for her expectantly at his usual position near the bus stop. ' The month of March has always been the most grueling, ' he concluded, as a drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The scorching rays showered by the ever blazing sun, sans mercy, shrouded a needle sharp blanket over the earth. To add to the inconvenience,  a gush of sultry humid breeze would swish its way past the people at regular intervals of time.

 It was the busiest time of the day - the morning hours when people scurried fast in groups for their work. He registered in amusement that the events that unwound around him daily had an unerringly etched out pattern. The restaurant run by Kalaam, the one at the junction, which flocked the most number of customers, would be the first to signal its functioning. The deafening metallic shriek of the rotten shutter made sure that any one in half a kilometer vicinity were notified of the hotel’s availability, the first thing in the morning without fail. He was aware of this fact, for he was always the first customer to savour a share of food from the hotel 

The telephone booth run by the raspy voiced man who reeked of alcohol any time of the day opened next. He despised the tone of  nastiness that outweighed that man’s sarcasm, whenever he called out to him and said, " Why do you keep focussing on this junction Raghu ?. I am sure that you are jinxed. My customers are dropping day after day! " .

Raghu coughed out loud as the smoke which was propelled out from the bus which came to a screeching stop at the bus stop choked his nostrils. 

‘ Where is she ? ‘. He felt a whirlpool of emotions somersaulting inside his head.

She was working as a sales girl at the nearby textile shop. That much he knew for once he happened to overhear that detail while she was talking to her friend. Every time she passed by her, his otherwise numb brain cells seemed to be blossoming by the mere fragrance of her scent. Her voice was mellifluous, sounding young and her speech, deeply enriched with the sweetest of notes. The fact that the wild clutter of her glass bangles soothened his ears much more than the innocent chuckle of a baby intrigued him for he was well past his prime in the ledger of age roll.  He never deserved to fall for a girl that divine as her. Yet, she mattered to him the most, he knew. 

His emotional connect with the girl started blooming one fine day when she offered to lend him a hand seeing him in a meddled scenario. Since that day, without fail, she used to pause at him to share a word with him in her usual enigmatic voice. The emotional chord that connected him to her strengthened as this daily routine of her's started intriguing him. Gradually, before he knew, she was everything to him. An affectionate mother, a playful sister, a loving wife, every worthy relation that he was forced to live without. She opened to him an enchanting world of never ending love to quench his parched life – all with those few words sprinkled with compassion.


Meantime, a few kilometeres from the town, Sita was worried beyond limits. She checked her watch impatiently. “ I am late ! " Sita thought in utter despair.

 Being late for her job was simply something she couldn’t dare to do  , especially when she was offered a salary hike for her flawless service at the textile shop. The last few weeks had been strange. As if the angel finally decided to cocoon her with all sorts of blessings, luck had been approaching her from every untapped crevice of her life. Having tasted the bitter phase of life Sita never expected much from her life. With an ailing mother to look after, she weaved little dreams for herself. Quite unexpectedly now, with her shop offering her a promotion as the one of the heads of the sales section, her future was turning to be rosier, for once in her otherwise thorny life .  The employee whose position she was taking over, was expelled for being up in news for his nefarious deed of trying to trade his one month old baby for a lump some amount of money.  Hard to believe such monsters even existed, Sita had opined on hearing the news. But then, ‘ Truth is stranger than fiction ‘  isnt ?. She remembered recalling a proverb the next moment that she had learnt way back in her school days. Truth was definitely stranger. Miraculous at times, devastating at other times.

Fifteen minutes later, Sita scampered her way though the crowded bus, the travelers yielding away from their uncomfortable, yet unavoidable embraces, and alighted the bus when it paused at her stop. 
To know the rest of the story, keep waiting. An improvised, altered version of this story is going to be part of an anthology!

Doll Festival - Haiku

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Doll on the altar  -
Brightens face 
And cleanses soul . 

P.S :  Doll festival is an age old Japanese tradition celebrated on March 3rd based on the belief that the dolls adorned and set on the altar would take away bad spirits . 

Written for Carpe Diem . The prompt - Doll Festival .

Saturday, March 2

The Solace

Image Source : find here

I watched the sun blazing hot ,
Tangential rays unfurling pain

Stranded in the tattered street
Uncloathed ,baring my skin
Wails melting in raucous snarls .
Lost , I ran towards my shelter ,


- Soon to be part of an anthology-


Risshun - Haiku

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Specks of red and blue
Settle on rich blossom
This Holi day . 

P.S :  Holi is a festival of colours celebrated by Hindus in India , which marks the beginning of Spring . 
Written for the Carpe Diem . The prompt - Risshun ( Coming of spring )