tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83556918795910754452023-11-15T22:37:51.093+05:30weird world of thoughts...Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-6227497805502031112016-11-09T00:53:00.006+05:302016-11-09T11:49:07.682+05:30Dear Zindagi!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>How is life?</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is the most frequently asked question. And perhaps the
most thoughtlessly answered, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I snooze the alarm, wake up with a start, get ready in hurry
burry, work like a robot, and check the phone almost every 5 minutes during all
the awake hours. That’s life. Is it? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have taken life for granted, to a great extent. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stepped back, switched off my phone, and looked at life.
And realised, this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten, rest all has just
followed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Dear Life,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope you are doing well. I am good too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am sorry. Now and then, I have belittled you. I have
cursed you, swore on you, and gave up on with the slightest of trouble. But you
stayed calm. You did not leave me, held on to me like a patient father hugging
his child who is mad at him for not getting his favourite chocolate. How does
the kid realise that too much chocolate is not good for him!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What are you made of, you have always loved me back with a
greater intensity!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I often wonder, what is life? A story? Pictures? Memories?
Experiences?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or is it relationships? Or ambitions? Is it a journey? Or is
it the destination?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, you are my constant companion, who becomes what I
need. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was dejected after flunking those final semester
exams, I almost decided to give up. But you were there, sitting by me, with
your steady warm hand wrapped around my shoulder, listening to my sobs and
silence. I wanted to leave you, but you did not leave me. And see, today where
I stand. Nobody even cares about that scorecard. You were a friend then. The
best friend one could ever ask for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I am elated, I forget to thank you. I scold you, I
curse you, I push you away, but you are always patient like my mom. She always
knew that I had to swallow that bitter medicine, if I were to get well. You too
would put me to tests, being aware that I would hate you for that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are the best teacher. They taught me so much in all
those books. But do I remember them unless you reiterate them for me? No. You
have your own ways to teach, and the most effective ones. Sometimes hard, but
you got be tough with stubborn kids, don’t you!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You bring along different people in the course. Some stay,
some leave. Those who stay, make living beautiful. Those who leave, leave me
wiser. And that’s what you are, you beauty!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only if I could express all that I want to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Life, thank you, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the friends who stood by me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the foes who helped find me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the victories that give me confidence<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the failures that make me strong<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the dream that keeps me going<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the uphill that test my strengths<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the stars that brighten my sky<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the sun that fills my days<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the smiles that make me smile<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the faith that gives me light<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the love that makes me lucky<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the defeats that give me experience<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the hatred that teaches me love<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the new day that gives me hope<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You leave no choice for me, all I can do is love you, live
you. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>P.S: </o:p><em style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms", verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">“I am writing a letter to life for the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DkO7ksXY8E&authuser=0" style="color: #0066cc; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><strong>#DearZindagi</strong> </a>activity at <strong><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #0066cc; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">BlogAdda</a></strong>“</em></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><i>Please watch the teaser here: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DkO7ksXY8E" target="_blank">Dear Zindagi</a></i></span></span></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-48230901500487675172016-02-11T18:13:00.000+05:302016-02-11T18:14:44.295+05:30Love and Laughter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
1<sup>st</sup> February, 2011, one week into our first
meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you think we are falling in love?” I asked, my heart
pounding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silence from the other side. I could hear his accelerated breath
over the phone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a few moments that seemed like eternity, “I think,
yes”, he spoke.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we confessed. Februaries never remained the same
thereafter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was love in the air, the festival of love was
approaching. And the first one for both of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As new love birds, that mushy feeling occupied our minds all
the time. We were preparing for the Valentine’s Day more religiously than we
would have ever studied for our JEE entrances. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have celebrated 6 valentines together till now, but the
first one remains the special, and each time we remember that, we laugh our
hearts out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being a methodical person, I had prepared a project plan. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gifts every hour. Card. Candies. The special dress that I
would wear. A beauty parlour session the previous day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was quite sure he also had his plans to make me feel
special. Our excitement knew no bounds.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
14<sup>th</sup> February, 6 am. My doorbell rang. I anyway
hadn’t slept, thanks to the excitement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at myself in the mirror, smiled and ran to the
door. I looked from the peep hole, expecting him standing outside with roses in
hand, but my face dropped like a deflated balloon when I saw the milkman. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I kept checking my phone, as if looking at it would make it
ring. I wonder if this feeling has a name: the one which makes you smile to
yourself, makes your heart gallop like a horse, tickles your stomach.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was ready by 7 a.m. When the doorbell rang again, it was
him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Happy Valentine’s day”, he said as I opened the door, presenting
a bunch of red roses. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Same to you”, I blushed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can we go for a ride now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mmm…yes. I have a surprise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My joy was uncontrollable. I nodded a big yes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sat with him on his bike for the first time. He asked me
to put my hand on his shoulder, lest I should fall. That butterflies-in-the-stomach
feeling is perhaps the most delicate and beautiful feeling in the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Where are we going?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That is a surprise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pressed his hand against mine and I saw him smiling in
the rear view mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he turned the bike, I suddenly felt a jerk and fell off
the bike near a heap of garbage and saw him fall on the other side. An
autowallah had rammed into us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He rose up from the ground, dusting himself off and while I
was expecting him to come towards me and pull me up, he walked past me and went
straight towards the auto driver and gave him a tight slap. And the public that
is ever ready to vent their frustration out on any damn road fight, gathered to
do the rest of the fighting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I felt so stupid to get up on my own. Even the crowd ignored
me. All that valentine fever was gone. I felt a lump on my head, while he was
twisting his wrist. He gave me a hand, and I jerked it away!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What kind of a man are you! I am lying here on the ground
you have to show your stunts first!” and tears started rolling down my cheeks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry, that fellow would have run away…I am sorry…are you
alright? Did you get hurt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I scratched my head, it was hurting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you okay? You hurt your wrist, is it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Seems so, its paining bad”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the bike stood on the sidewalk, we both walked to my
place again to evaluate our wounds. There were a few minor scratches on our
elbows. My valentine red dress was brown with mud now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We cleaned ourselves up, and by now we both has swellings. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No more date. No more surprise. We decided to head to the
doctor’s clinic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The elderly doctor looked at both of us squarely. We felt like we were sitting in the police
station, as criminals. Valentine’s Day, girl and a boy on the bike. What does
one expect?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What happened, how did you fall?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The auto came from the wrong side of the road”, he said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I see.” the doctor said, perhaps trying to suppress a
crooked smile. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have a shooting pain here…” I said pointing to the lump,
“and he is not able to move his wrist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We both were nervous. As if our families were sitting on the
opposite side of the table, asking us “what do you think you are doing behind
our backs?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Looking at our pale faces, probably the doctor had a sudden
surge of pity and he gave us a “aww-you-kids” smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He looked at me and asked “Do you remember this guy well?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was startled. “Yes”, I said blankly. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He then looked at him and asked, “Can you still hold her
hand for the dance tonight?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we both breathed a sigh of relief. He said “Yes.” And
smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The doctor gave us some medicines and asked us not to worry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We walked out of the
clinic, perhaps both thinking the same. The surprises, the date, the flowers. No
more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The painkillers put us to sleep as soon as we popped them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next morning I woke up to his SMS that said, “That was
the most different Valentine one could ever celebrate.” And I smiled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Till date, the memories of that Valentine are the funniest
and the sweetest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<em style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">This post is a part of <a href="http://caratlane.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">#LoveAndLaughter</a> activity at <strong><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">BlogAdda</a></strong> in association with <strong><a href="https://www.caratlane.com/" style="color: #b85b5a; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Caratlane</a></strong>.</em></div>
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ya3Z1AC1CHA" target="_blank">Love is better when you laugh together: caratlane</a><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-69421463988675149352015-10-12T12:49:00.003+05:302015-10-12T17:02:42.920+05:30To Bond, with Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
It was my dream to see Mr.Ruskin Bond in person. I had written this poem as a present for him. I did give it to him, hoping he would read it some day. May he live long and healthy!<br />
<br />
I keep a Bond book by my pillow every night<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It brings pretty dreams, it makes me feel light<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The garden, the pool, the banyan, and the deodar<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mouth waters for the chaat in the bazaar<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stories of Dehra and Landour<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Always take me on a virtual tour<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lal Tibba, Pari Tibba, clock tower, the old church<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To the places where Rusty roamed so much…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whenever I feel sad, low, and melancholy<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pick up a Bond book and read slowly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The “cheer up tonic” takes away the gloom<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Brings a smile – like your flower pot in full bloom…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nature is prettier through your eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You paintings of words simply mesmerize<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even a python looks cute and lovely<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Touch of moss and grass seems heavenly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Amidst all complexes, Bond books are a respite<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Ruskin’s world, all is soothing and bright<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Simple is pretty and small is beautiful<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ruskin can make anything look wonderful!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To see the world that I have seen through your stories</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come from far, leaving behind all worries<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seeing you in person is a dream come true<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One wish remains, is to be like you!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-style: none none solid; padding: 0cm 0cm 16pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">
From so many of your fans, I am just one<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">
I relate to your works, like I do to none,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">
Lady Bond- I call myself in secret, and smile<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">
Be a writer like you, and make life worthwhile<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here I wish you from the core of my heart,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Health and happiness, and all that you want<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You live forever, and may you never rest the quill,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love and regards, to the Writer from the Hills.</div>
</div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-40443636202421520072015-06-06T18:49:00.000+05:302015-06-10T12:04:28.769+05:30Home is where the heart is..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>When I come back to an
empty house, I miss home.</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<i>When I reach home after a long day, I wish the lights were already on.</i><br />
<i>I wish someone opened the door for me, I hate to open it with the keys..</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<span style="font-style: italic;">If I reach late, I look for a Dad who would say " What took you so long dear..?"</span><br />
<i>I miss the smell of fresh food filling the rooms, the whistles of the pressure cooker.</i><br />
<i>I hate cooking just for myself, mostly instant noodles, or oats. </i><br />
<br />
<i>When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A sister who does not stop chattering about her day in college.</i><br />
<i>A brother who fights for the TV remote.</i><br />
<i>When I am tired, I look for Mum, to caresses my hair.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The cold room with empty walls makes me feel lonely.</i><br />
<i>When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I miss the home which is warm with love and care.</i><br />
<i>The home, where I enter and I am completely myself. </i><br />
<i>Leaving behind the world of competition, pursuits and chases.</i><br />
<i>Shut the door behind to fear and commotion.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>When I come back to an empty house, I miss home.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I miss being called by my pet name. </i><br />
<i>Sometimes, I wish to be taken care of. </i><br />
<i>Like a small kid.</i><br />
<i>Tired of being independent, and alone.</i><br />
<i>Going back to my house everyday, I miss going home.</i></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-63058886543681550512015-06-06T18:06:00.002+05:302015-06-06T18:40:43.210+05:30The dreadful dilemma.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<br />
Children grow up with their parents.<br />
And parents grow old without their children. <br />
<br />
A lonely mother.<br />
She is left with just stories and memories.<br />
of her children.<br />
who stay far away, in some metro city, or in a foreign land.<br />
<br />
She happily tells all her relatives,<br />
that her son lives in America, works in a Big company.<br />
Owns a flat, a car, and what not.<br />
<br />
She happily says that her children live a life of abundance.<br />
<br />
But, at night, when she eats alone, with no one but the TV talking to her, she longs for her son.<br />
When she struggles to change the settings of the Air Conditioner,<br />
she wishes her daughter was around.<br />
<br />
She misses them. She wants them to be with her.<br />
She was all along when her children were growing up.<br />
But, now, she is alone, when she is growing old.<br />
<br />
She has a smart phone in her hand, with her son's picture on it.<br />
She longs to hug him. But she can only touch the touch screen of the iphone her son sent her from the US.<br />
<br />
When she needs a hand to climb up the stairs, she sheds a silent tear,<br />
She does not cook a lavish spread, just few loafs of bread.<br />
For whom shall she cook, she thinks.<br />
But she tells the next door aunty very happily that her son's visa has been renewed.<br />
And the daughter in law also has gotten a job there.<br />
<br />
And within her, her heart sinks that her children might never come home,<br />
except for a week in a year.<br />
And may be, she will have to eat her food with the TV, till the last day of her life.<br />
<br />
But she says nothing.<br />
<br />
<br />
P.S : No intentions to hurt anyone, or judge one's choices in life. Purely personal thoughts.<br />
<br /></div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-61699207689173686092015-05-10T15:53:00.002+05:302015-05-10T15:54:15.473+05:30Share the Load. We do.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
We share our life with each other. We share passwords. We
share the ice cream, so, do we share the household work. And that’s what
keeps us all the more close and attached. Sharing the domestic responsibilities is perhaps one of the best ways to tell your partner that, whatever life has to offer, we are
together- to enjoy it, to bear it, and to live it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We make walking in the departmental store to buy groceries,
as romantic as sitting on the beach, hand in hand, watching the sunset. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He knows what flavor of Rasna I like, and I make sure I do
not forget to get those orange candies he loves. While I select the best
shaving gel for him, he picks up the best shampoo according to my hair type.
Buying groceries for the month cannot be a mundane affair if the partners
consider this otherwise boring activity, a way to show how much they care about
each other’s like and dislike.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the maid does not show up, it is fun to divide the cleaning up tasks. I scrub the utensils, and he washes them. Because he
says that my nails are too delicate to bear the harsh dish wash soap. And I
know, he likes playing with soap bubbles, so scrubbing the dishes is kinda play for him,
so I let him do that. And the playful splashing of water and bubbles on each other is all
that makes dish washing so much fun and enjoyable. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While I wash the clothes in the washing machine, he dries them on the clothesline. Because
that requires more physical strength, according to him. He is Man of the house,
he says <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
So, he chooses to do the difficult jobs himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cooking is not just a routine business. He is fond of
eating, as well as cooking. And I know the fact well that the way to a man’s
heart goes through his stomach. So, if I surprise him with his favorite dinner
on a Friday evening, when he is late from work, he is ready with my favorite
breakfast on the Sunday morning. So, there are culinary surprises for each other at
least a couple of times in a week. We add the most important ingredient to all
the food we cook- Love. And that makes everything just yummy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And how can I forget that if he is at home, and we need
chopped onions, he never lets me do it. He would do it himself, always. He
says, he cannot see me in tears. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never felt that since I am the woman, so it is just my
duty to manage the household.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maintaining the wardrobe is one task we both despise. So, we
take turns. If we need a plumber, I call and get things done. He hates calling
people. But when it comes to paying the bills, it is his department. So, I
hardly worry about the savings and the spending.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I make the bed at night, he folds the bed sheets in the
morning. And I being the obsessed one to decorate the house with stuff, he just
plays the role of a critic. Yes, take this, this is good. Not this one, not
that great. Even that is fun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We make house a home - out of love. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love is not just telling each other the three words. I see
deep love in my husband’s eyes, when he makes me coffee in the morning. We
respect each other’s role in making life easy and comfortable for one another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As many of my friends dread that being a mother will only squeeze out energy and time out of life, and it would be more trouble than joy. But, I am quite sure, that the bundle of joy in our life, will bring in more love, and togetherness. Because, we share every responsibility equally. It's not only me who will have to change diapers or rock the cradle all night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marriage is a lovely journey. And each moment, each activity,
when done together, can be joyful. Imagining the wife does all the household
chores, and the husband does his part of the duties, would make life so boring.
Sharing the load makes each other feel cared for. It unites the two. It strengthens
the bond. Makes both the partners feel equal. Feel respectful for each other.
And, in fact, the load does not seem a load at all. All of it becomes memories
worth cherishing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S; <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I am writing for the </span><a href="http://ariel.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="#ShareTheLoad">#ShareTheLoad</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> activity at </span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="BlogAdda.com">BlogAdda.com</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> in association with </span><a href="https://www.rewardme.in/tag/ArielShareTheLoad" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Ariel">Ariel</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-45066209869851800472015-04-08T11:26:00.000+05:302015-04-08T18:58:17.327+05:30My Dil ki Deal!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
A mother-in-law can be a great friend. Doing something for
her can be so gratifying, I realised only after I did it for the first time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months after my wedding, she came to stay with us for
a few months. There were multiple layers of formalities and hesitation between
me and her. She was quite affectionate and loving and we had a cordial
relation, but still, there was an invisible wall between us, thin though. We
were not very expressive with each other. Something was there, unwanted, which
had to be removed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From all that I had come to know of her from my husband, she
had had a very sacrificing life, drudging for the family, side-lining her
wishes and desires. And as any woman would have, she had a secret wish to wear
a diamond. But given the financial constraints and responsibilities, she could
never have one. Decades of struggle and penury had killed her dreams. Her life
revolved around her children and their wellbeing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At times, she would say that all her friends have so much
abundance, I could never have anything. But never did she look sad. She seemed
eternally content. Looking at her, I would always feel that mothers are indeed divine
beings.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started working after a month of my wedding. I decided I
will give her a present from my first salary. A surprise. A diamond!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My salary arrived. I had never been to a jewelry store.
Let alone buy a diamond. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My husband and I gathered all information we could and fixed
a date and went to the store. We both felt like little kids walking into an
adult-goods store. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We finally selected a pair of earrings. A bit higher than
our budget. And made the purchase.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maa was away on a trip and there was still a week left for her
to return. I was way too excited to surprise her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would keep imagining the situation all the time. …”I will
place the gift in her cupboard with a note, before I go to office, and then let
her find out for herself….. “No, I will give it to her myself, and see her
expressions when she opens it…” I was waiting for her. And was praying that she
likes it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went to the railway station to pick her up. We reached home and by no means could I hold the
excitement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I asked her to close her eyes. Confused, she did. I stood
before her with the gift box in my hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My heart was beating fast. Waiting to see her reaction.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She opened her eyes, and was amused! She took the present, but
kept on asking what was inside. I asked her to open it. She did, and perhaps my
eyes said something that she understood. She was overwhelmed with emotions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I said, “Maa, these are the first diamonds of your life.
Many more to come”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked at the diamonds, and I saw tiny little diamonds
at the corner of her eyes. May be, the memories of the good old days, when my
late father-in-law would have promised her diamonds, came fresh. <br />
She hugged me tight and said, “I had always longed for a daughter, and I have
got one now. I have the most precious jewel now, which is you. More than these
diamonds, the feelings and thoughts you have for me, is just priceless. No one has ever made me feel so special. I wish your father-in-law was amongst us
today, he would have been so proud of you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I saw us shedding a few drops of love and joy from our eyes.
And that was the moment we ceased being a mom-in-law and daughter-in-law pair.
We were just mom and daughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And also, that same moment, that invisible wall of
hesitation and formality just disappeared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, I share almost everything with her, and she does the
same. This was my dil ki deal. And what followed was indeed magical. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I am participating in the </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAJsD6XNUrs" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="#DilKiDeal">#DilKiDealOnSnapdeal</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">activity at </span><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="BlogAdda">BlogAdda</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> in association with </span><a href="http://www.snapdeal.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #b85b5a; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="SnapDeal">SnapDeal</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-89243503045226749182015-03-31T18:33:00.000+05:302015-04-04T15:35:48.625+05:30Compartments of the Mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Compartments of mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Too many thoughts colliding in the small mind, they are all
over the place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sit calm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Categorize the thoughts and shut them in the different
compartments,<br />
labelled Ambitions, Commitments, Feelings, Responsibilities, and
Dreams.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Close all the compartments.<br />
Relish the neatness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Open the compartments one at a time and, close once done.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No crowding or overcrowding. No collisions. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wish the thoughts were so obedient and the mind so able.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life would have been so simple. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-56266915201471328372015-03-24T13:30:00.000+05:302015-03-27T12:48:59.474+05:30Whit of light.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
When life brings you to a day when you are clueless about what to do. In fact there is almost nothing that you can do...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Complete surrender is complete faith. Or does faithlessness lead to surrender?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Surrender is when you just let go of every thought and cling to the positive that you wish to happen or get. Or surrender is hopefulness that the almighty will, and definitely will grant what you want.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or surrender is just being. No hope. No despair. Just be. Neutral. It this state possible? Damn!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Complete faith then? What is that?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is it believing that the divinity is with you and you will get what you want? Or is it the feeling that whatever is going to happen is for good. But that is surrender isn't it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Surrender or Faith. Whatever. It is the only whit of light when you are in a sea of darkness, deafening and blinding darkness. The only whit of light. </div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-36202026653150780462014-12-29T23:24:00.000+05:302014-12-29T23:24:55.914+05:30Hold on.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Your dream, that you had nurtured all your life, that you had cradled in your arms in your dreams, the dream that was always there to bring you back to life, to bring back that light of hope, the zeal to try again..<br />
the dream..your dream...<br />
How does it feel when you see this dream going away..leaving you..fading away in the dusk..the shine dimming away...the dream going out of reach...going out of your sight..obscuring away in the horizon..<br />
As if the force of life tears out of your body and moves away slowly..leaving you behind, your hands stretched out...leaving you with no energy to call out..or run to it and not let it go..<br />
whether it is possible to not let your dream leave you, to not give up, to fight , to think and act...that is all there at a later stage..whether you have the choice to bring the circumstances in your hands...okay, that all is there...i do not mean to lecture on that...<br />
<br />
But the very feeling that what you have always looked forward to..what you have always wanted to achieve..your destination which has also been your way till now..has developed cracks, which are mendable or not, you do not know at that moment, your dream absorbs all the light in the world leaving you behind engulfed in darkness..a feeling of vacuum inside..weightlessness..you feel non-existent.<br />
all you can see and comprehend is..the road ahead is going away from you..leaving you stuck in an island of despair...<br />
And you stand there, Lifeless. Motionless. Emotionless.<br />
But what still remains is, the seed of faith.<br />
Faith in some thing. Faith in some one. And The seed grows one fine day.</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-24984688333984747772014-12-29T17:12:00.000+05:302014-12-29T23:10:59.947+05:30Surprise Yourself<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Related post: <a href="http://searchingsilence.blogspot.in/2013/01/what-is-my-calling.html">What is my calling?</a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">What is my calling? This is what someone told me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Definitely, no one is going to come in your dreams and tell you,
"This is what you are made for."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Just sitting and waiting for the calling, it would never happen
that way. You got to set out and try newer things that come your way or
otherwise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">You got to do things to find out what is your calling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Every single opportunity that gives a faint feeling of “it might
be…”, grab it. Find it out for yourself if it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No
straight line takes you there? Then go the other way round; <i>reverse gear</i> approach.
Put the answer options in the question to find out the correct option, rather
than solving the question to find the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You
might think that its life, you do not have just a limited number of options. So
you got to be patient and do some thinking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">The only headache could be, you might not have a limited number of
options. And you might always have this doubt in mind that "Is it my real
calling?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It is then that you got to trust your instinct. And not give up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How
would you know that finally you got it? Will anything magical happen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Go
and do it first. Expect surprises.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">If
the random hunt does not take you any closer to your calling, at least it would
lower the number of choices you have; it would reduce the level of confusion in
your head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Envy
the people who have found their life’s passion. Convert the envy to energy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Why
do they know what is it for them, and you don’t?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Enough
of self-help reading, enough of soul searching, set out and do something.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Believe
in karma. Come out of the cocoon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Go,
do it. Surprise yourself!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-61300069906556275922014-12-29T15:46:00.000+05:302014-12-29T15:46:48.097+05:30Foolish me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I sat under the sky, with a pen and paper,to write a poem.</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I stared at the white paper, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">scratching my head, waiting for the words to pop up from its
inside.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Then stared at the paper, harder this time. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I positioned my hand to write, hoping the pen
would pour out something.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Tickled my memory to surface something I could write about.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Ran through past and future, trying to imagine and paint.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt tired and lay down, looking at the blue sky above.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Let’s take a break, I told myself.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Blank, looked at the sky above</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">, s</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">tretched till infinity, soaked in serenity.</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The vibrance filling me gradually.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt, am I looking through a magnifying glass?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I saw a million cheerful faces smiling at me from above</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">T</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">he
radiance lighting up my face</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">, t</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">he
vastness overwhelming me..</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Suddenly I felt, how small I am.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt my heart expanding in me. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I stretched out my arms and hugged the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I felt happy, so happy</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">, re</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">alising,
its true when they say,</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">”</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> to be happy, you don’t need a reaso</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">n”.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I smiled </span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">back
</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">to those million
faces.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And watched the faces turn into stars, as the blue transformed to
amber, grey …black.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">Getting mesmerised by t</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">he bejewelled beauty</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"> of </span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">the unending cosmo</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">s.</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I lay there, smilin</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">g, o</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">blivious
of self and surrounding, listening to the silent melody.</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">That’s what they call bliss!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">How could I not see something so amazing that was always there
above me…I just had to look up</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And I always looked inside, to get inspired</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;">, f</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">oolishly thinking, creativity can be cultivated in a head.</span></i><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I did not write a poem, but learnt how to nurture creativity.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-8077864623390782832014-12-29T15:44:00.001+05:302014-12-29T15:44:39.876+05:30I am afraid. So?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fear that I live with, is my companion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I say it aloud that I hate the fear. But I share an intimacy
with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It acknowledges me, it accepts me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I camouflage, I live with it in a strange comfort but I say to
the world that I want to get rid of it. That’s the dishonest me. Hypocrite me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am me. I don’t bother if you think I am timid. I pretend
that I bother. But I don’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see me afraid and
sympathize.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks, but that is okay. It is okay to be afraid, I feel
so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to die trying to be perfect, I would be happier
to die a happy me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I find it easier to live with the fears, than trying to part
with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All they ask for is a small corner in my heart. Until I
don’t knock their doors, they stay there put.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After all, I am afraid of some things, not everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-89291825741529391392014-12-02T22:36:00.002+05:302014-12-02T22:42:25.316+05:30Small is beautiful.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sometimes, the light of a sweet smile, can lighten the darkness that is pitch black.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">A soothing touch on my shoulder fills me with the lost life and strength, when I am tired and dying.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Not pep talks and lectures, just a heartfelt "You can" can bring me back on my foot, when I am giving up.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sometimes I just need that much, and I am fine.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Burdens seeming eternally painful, just evaporate by the warmth of a caring "Don't worry". </span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">When the cosmos seems conspiring against me, when I am struggling for a support in a whirlwind of worries, a genuine "I am there" calms down the storms inside, readying me to fight the ones outside.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sometimes, in fact always, it is just small gestures of humanity, which can design the course of a journey…</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The length of pauses, the amount of despair, the extent of disheartenment, the duration of distress, can be insignificant and momentary or can just throw you off the track of life.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">It is an individual’s fight, of course. But the almighty has his ways to cheer his fighters in the arena.</span><br />
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-31692699346339867682014-06-20T15:46:00.000+05:302014-06-20T15:46:10.086+05:30Lest you should fall..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The greatest favor I could do myself is help myself be myself.<br />
All the while I try being someone better than myself, I torment myself.<br />
When I want to say no, but it should be a yes by the goodness standards,<br />
and I say yes, I make a cut on my skin, that does not hurt that much then,<br />
but each yes that follows the first yes, deepens the cut, making it bleed harder and harder..<br />
and paining me, the pain that I myself inflicted on my being.<br />
And the veil of goodness in which I place myself, the veil that is like a soundproof solid wall,<br />
that does not let my screams of pain reach any ear, that filters all the discomfort I am going through because of the yes I said, and makes me look a healthy and happy face, which looks real but is fake.<br />
And I regret saying that first yes.<br />
<br />
just be yourself. say no when you feel you want to say no. don't try to be someone you are not.<br />
you are not doing any good to yourself all the while.<br />
you are just letting yourself fall off a precipice, a precipice, where no hand can reach to pull you back. and perhaps, the fall will not have an end ever. An endless, painful fall.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-78231870119169653642014-05-30T23:52:00.001+05:302014-05-30T23:53:02.271+05:30Irony!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white;">
I miss giving random misses to mundane routines.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
Sitting within closed walls longing to wet my feet with the waves..</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
I wait for unhurried mornings, sunshine bathing my body.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
For leisurely afternoons I spend with my favorite book.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
I miss days when I am not controlled by a watch. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
I miss to reminisce. Smiling to myself. Meeting myself. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
In the maddening run, I miss myself behind.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
Until I feel empty and hollow. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
And I look behind, and see myself starved.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
This whole business of missing, </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
I do it for a living, but I miss living while doing it.</div>
<br /></div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-66451750891042070292014-04-10T17:21:00.000+05:302014-04-10T17:21:15.055+05:30Create a story..will see.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I often get tempted to give up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Enough of it, accept that you are ordinary, you are no
genius. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stop thinking of failure as the stepping stone to success,
you are not Steve Jobs.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Waiting for a miracle. That’s stupid, stop being a fatalist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get real.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There comes a day, when dreams and ambitions seem a burden.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or the inability to fulfil them, lack of direction, or low
of commitment?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whatever, it feels heavy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I scream out loud to myself, “Stop being hard on yourself.
Everyone is not born to create stories. You are not born to create a story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get dissolved in the crowd, yes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the moment I decide to empty my heart of my desires, I
feel a vacuum. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I try to empty my eyes of my dreams, I see nothing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then, I realise, at least I am born to dream. I am born
to try.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Create a story… will
see.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-28104126536823028862014-04-10T17:20:00.000+05:302014-04-10T17:20:24.727+05:30I have a dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I have a dream in my eyes. That makes
me feel proud of myself.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I do not have a blueprint ready on my
table. But I have a dream, and that says I am not ordinary.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I dare to dream.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I may not have a blueprint ready on
my table. But I have a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">You say, dreaming is not enough. I
agree.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">But, is it not something that few do?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I am not complacent, I am not weak. I
am not submissive to life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">And, is dreaming not the start?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">No route can bypass the start. Can
it?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I don’t let my dream die a silent,
unnoticed death, unlike many others who dream, but abandon it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Dream is hope. Dream is faith. Dream
is the seed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I may not have a blueprint ready on
my table, but I have a dream in my eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Work hard, find a way and chase the
dream. Yeah, I will do that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Do not dismiss my dream. I am proud
of myself, I have a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Most importantly, I dream, I don’t </span></i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">day dream<i>.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-70642664869722396712014-01-06T14:47:00.003+05:302014-05-15T16:25:33.902+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I say I don't care,<br />
but I do, I just don't share.<br />
<br />
A part of my heart aches, always..<br />
which is where you lived, it was your place..<br />
<br />
The memories of all those years..<br />
wet my cheeks with tears..<br />
<br />
I had never thought we would be apart,<br />
that love has no end, it can only have a start..<br />
<br />
Why did you let me go, or whatever..<br />
couldn't you hold my hand, for a little longer..<br />
<br />
I still pine for you, I haven't turned into a stone..<br />
Had you said just once more, I would not have gone.<br />
<br />
My friend, I miss you.<br />
I don't know if you do..</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-7450225002374444982013-09-15T20:06:00.001+05:302013-09-16T14:30:34.132+05:30I am my Hero.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
My soul does not let me fall.<br />
So what if I stop for a while,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what if I lie down for sometime..<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I get up and run again, I run with a greater speed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My resolve does not die.<br />
I survive the storms,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of despair and darkness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I prefer dying trying, than dying before I die.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
May be I will not win before the End,<br />
may be I will..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but, if not at the peak, my journey will end on the way uphill.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-2148370027713396312013-05-22T19:13:00.000+05:302015-11-01T12:45:18.916+05:30The craving for a soulful retreat…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Once in a while, the otherwise ever-wandering soul craves for a
soulful retreat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It longs to shut down the doors and windows and look within, not
outside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">To enlighten the within with the light within, to let the answers
germinate within, and stop trying to bring them from the foreign lands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">To relinquish all the adjectives and adverbs attached to the
‘self’ and its actions respectively. It wants to just be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It desires to dance, to sing, to rejoice with the only companion
that never leaves it - the self.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It says, “Silence the noise and the debates inside. Hear the
music.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Stop trying to be a better you. Just be yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Love yourself with the highest of your capacity to love.
Embrace yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And for this, you don’t have to be alone or lonely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The soulful retreat can be in solitude, can be in company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Self-acceptance is the thing - the only requirement for the party
to begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Treat yourself with a soulful retreat. Once in a while, do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-67043013500130028292013-01-13T16:16:00.001+05:302013-01-13T16:20:57.188+05:30What is my calling?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some days in life make themselves so uneventful and dull,
that, when I look back and recall something worth remembering about those days;
it seems they never existed in my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dread my life to be a series of such uneventful and
unmemorable days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, they say “A day is as good as you make it”. But that zeal to pull myself out of idleness
or boredom or nothingness, to “make” the day good, seems like something I never
possessed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All I do is waiting for the day to get over, with the hope
that the next day will be miraculously interesting, without I putting in
fruitless efforts, fatalism at its peak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The strange restless feeling is killing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my calling?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As they say about love, you do not decide to fall in love,
and you realise only after falling for someone, that you have fallen, does it
hold true for all other serendipities?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is this strange restless feeling in me that does not
let me be at peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not feel
complete. I do not feel I have achieved anything that can be termed an achievement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel a little hungry all the time. I feel a little sleep-deprived
all the time. I feel a little restless all the time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my calling?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A strange feeling haunts me all night when I do not have the
answer to “what did I do today that I can feel more worthy than yesterday?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wake up in a confused state of mind- somewhat hopeful,
somewhat anxious, somewhat optimistic, and somewhat nervous. Wake up with the
other question waiting to be answered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my calling?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes I feel I can become a writer, but this very
question that “Do I have it in me?” kills all the spirit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been said, “If you think you can do it, you can. If
you think you can’t do it, you can’t.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
True. But I am yet to find my “it”.<br />
The "it" which could be a solid answer to "What is my calling? "<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only baseless hope that someday I will wake up with an
answer to “What is my calling?” keeps me going.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
May be the hope is not baseless. I should not let it die. I
should nurture it in all ways I can.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s then when I realise the profundity of this statement: “Faith is your wealth.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not do a favour to anyone if I pose faith in destiny or
in God. It is my own wealth. If I lose it, it’s a loss to me, not to anybody
else.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A complacent soul is always at peace. If you are restless,
you are awakened. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But staying awake is not enough, is it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You got to pursue your calling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is my calling?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-33451393216066652762013-01-12T12:13:00.001+05:302014-12-29T23:26:01.841+05:30Nothing more, Nothing less.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A girl's voice, who gets eve-teased, who is harassed, who is treated with contempt on the roads of India.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I go out of home with eyes full of dreams, face lit with smiles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With hope and confidence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With zeal and strength.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As much as your’ s , my friend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel equal. I feel safe. I feel secure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel I am a person, not just a girl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I respect you and expect just the same from you.<br />
Nothing
more, nothing less.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walk on the roads fearless.<br />
Why should I worry, it is my
world too,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As much as it is yours.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But you tell me every day that “Whatever you are, you are a
girl”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You look at me as if I am an object.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When your lustful eyes dig deep into my body, it hurts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You throw at me every day, your dirty words,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if I am a garbage bin.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I feel unclean. I feel eroded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not an object.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nor a garbage bin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Neither am I your property.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You do and forget, but it remains with me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It frightens me when I step out of home.<br />
It upsets me when I am alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It leaves a scar for forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t feel safe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dreams in my eyes have to share the space with fear,
caution.<br />
The smile on my face is restrained.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am bold, I can fight you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But why do I have to fight each day just to be myself?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can forget what you do, but not as easily as you do.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why can’t you be human?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am human. I respect you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You be human. Respect me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing more, nothing less.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-59929971189061544292012-12-27T18:16:00.000+05:302012-12-27T18:39:37.710+05:30The Kingdom of Clouds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The blue and the white...<br />
<br />
Snow flakes on serene waters,<br />
Or heaps of cotton, flying like kites.<br />
<br />
The blue and the white...<br />
<br />
No starts, no ends<br />
Stretched to the Infinite.<br />
<br />
The blue and the white...<br />
<br />
Radiance and shine,<br />
Brighter than the most bright<br />
<br />
The blue and the white...<br />
<br />
It must be the kingdom of happiness,<br />
no sadness, no gloom , no plight<br />
<br />
The blue and the white...<br />
<br />
The pristine beauty of the White...<br />
The unfathomable depth of the Blue...<br />
<br />
<br />
This is my experience of one of my first flights. I don't think I will ever be able to do express the joy I was filled with, when I found myself above the clouds. I have tried.<br />
<br />
It was all blue and white till my eyes could see. So bright and so beautiful. As if they were millions of smiling faces greeting me, welcoming me to the kingdom of clouds. It was something indescribable.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355691879591075445.post-50394330791827930862012-12-18T16:42:00.001+05:302012-12-19T11:52:52.465+05:30The divine mortal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I had accompanied a friend to the US Consulate for his visa
interview. A boy was standing right behind me. A student visa applicant. He was
nervous, his face said it loud.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His mother was there with him, matching her steps with her
son’s. She was holding a string of holy beads, praying constantly. She looked
at me and asked, “ is this the correct line beta?” “ My son’s turn
is right after you.. he wants to go abroad for higher studies..”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was really excited and restless for her son’s
interview.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I nodded and then looked at her son. He was pretty
embarrassed by her mother’s display of true emotions. He was trying to keep
away from her and silence her, throwing frustrated looks at her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She would smile again, pat him and get back to her prayers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was perhaps not so educated, definitely could not speak
English, or any language in a refined way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That very moment a whole picture ravelled in my mind, which might just be
imagination.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The son gets the visa and flies to a foreign country. He
gets busy there. He has a new life and new set of people around him. His mother
calls him every day to know about his wellbeing but he picks it once in 5-7 times and speaks
for hardly 3 minutes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He gets irritated if she asks him about his food. She prays
for him every day. He is too occupied to ask her about her health.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When a woman gives birth to a child, perhaps another being
takes birth the very same moment. A mother is born.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mothers are such selfless beings. No feeling is even close
to the affection and love a mother has for her child. It is so true: “God could
not be everywhere, so he created mothers”.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Rituhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17465957527817603403noreply@blogger.com1