An idea, a thought, an anecdote, a story or a poem a day!

  My place, my home! Neera Handa (The poem was presented in 2018 SWF) Each place has a name given by those who call it home Does the place ever answer to the name? Let me try and call out … Aie eee? –        Alumuna…aaaaa !! [1] …. Oh, but stop!   What’re these sounds, who’re these people? What’s the matter? They are running and shouting “They’re coming, they are coming!”  They’re plundering our world, they’re destroying what we had built, stop them!” And those who are chasing them are shouting “Run! Kill them”! But listen to what they are saying please! listen! “ Buddham Saranmam gacchami; Dharnam sarnam gacchami; Saṅghaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi” [2] ……….Oummmmmmmmm! We were here before you! much before you. We built it, we built it all! we built this and you came and took it!   Go away, leave us!   This was a temple, no, this was a mosque, you are joking, “this was my church” Stop it you all, this was my home! I want to say, my ‘country’ ! But my voice

Reading is very important, of course even if, or more so, if you want to write.  That is what I have learnt.  Check out, there is  A smorgasbord of topics, themes and titles There is such a variety, topics, and ideas, that people are writing about, putting their hearts, minds, their precious time into creating and dishing out these beauties, just for us to read, take advantage of, get entertained, or to feel sad or happy or excited!  Marketing, finance, romance, history, heartache, personal stories, and experiences, mental or physical health, writing about writing, tips and tricks to be successful in whatever field they are experts in, or just ranting, bragging, dreaming, questioning, but they are all writing, wanting you to read them. So read. Reading is crucial for writing too. It inspires ideas, gives clues, starts links to further our own writing. It also encourages others to see you, know you.  A famous quote on reading sums it up beautifully:  Reading brings us unknown friends. H

The wow effect that gives our mind and through our mind, out body, and soul the thrill, the sensation, giving us a feeling of being blissfully happy.  The oh effect.  (Living younger ABC) “Old is when you give up, until then you’re spectacular!” Read in Liz porter’s article.  

Yes, 27th September is a day in my life like no other. Always thete, always in my mind. The day when I lost some one, that no one can ever replace, and this loss came as the biggest shock, as I and no one in my family were expecting.  I lost my mother! To a freak accident. 

Yes, Every chance, I get, I sneak in a few ... When no one is looking, I quickly tap in a couple of ...  and then waiting the whole day for that quiet end of the day, when others sleep, I'm free to ... 

The sound of that voice, "I don't want to", like a shriek, a helpless cry, stopped me in my tracks, I was out jogging, and had just crossed the duo, a man and a little girl, walking on the side of the road, and my heart almost stopped. Such familiar words, "I don't want to", and a helpless child, a girl, and I started jogging a bit slowly, remaining close to them, but soon, they turned towards the shops, while my path was leading me to the park.  I jogged slowly towards the park, but then from the next street, my feet automatically turned towards the shops, and I saw them coming, and I went inside the street to let them catch up with me, and then started to follow them, sometimes I overtook them, went around the block, and then again caught up with them. I just wanted to know what was happening, and whether, the girl was safe. I was thinking, that the girl is being taken somewhere without her consent, she was unhappy, and may be abused, her mother had gone t

Dear Neera You don't know me as het, but I do. And one thing that I know is that our childhood, our experiences of early life are very similar. Almost the same. Though in my case these might be a bit foggy and in yours they are still fresh, and rosy, their impressions are a bit red, sharp and painful, and mine a bit tarnished, yes, time softens everything with its dull colours.  So, how are you going dear?  The person you were interested in, did you do anything about that? I hope you didn't, as it wouldn't be a good choice, I mean that person, you know, will not be... oh, sorry, my bad (I'm using a word that youngsters your age use these days!) how would you know, well don't worry about him, it will pan out, and if he is gone, let him be gone!  And have you decided on what you want to do your major in? I remember, you wanted to do journalism, Oh, the dream of being a reckless journalist, writing for a livelihood,  a dream, travelling around with your typewriter, wri

  I decided to write every day, and be free to write whatever I felt like!  So, on 10th March 2021, I started this  blog , on Google blogger, to write and to publish myself. And I have been writing every day since then, sometimes it is a story, or a poem, or an idea, like an essay or just a few sentences. But I write and each night, before 12 am, I hit publish. I didn’t know how to promote my blog, so I didn’t. Just told a couple of friends and relatives, who have started to read, and they sometimes comment, and that is nice, but not crucial. I don’t make them read, but then whether anyone reads what I write or not, it doesn’t bother me, as I like writing and I write!  And when I discovered Medium, had to become a member, as I was hooked, and wanted to read more what others were writing, while writing sometimes too!  But I didn’t know what I was getting myself in! It seems, becoming a member, and staying a member is something, much more than just reading, and writing, what I like! I’m

Writing every day, this year, I have realised that, writing for me is a compulsion, it is a habit a hobby, an enjoyment, something to pass time, and something for which I will pass anything.

Plato, and his philosopher in a cave,  watching outside, while his fools were watching shadows on the wall.  Yes,  Yes, they say fools rush in where angels fear to tread! But if there were no fools, we would still be living in the caves!

After all that was over, and I was given a green signal, I had left it all behind, and took a job overseas. I boarded the plane once again, second time in my life  and this time, not a simple naive innocent young bride, but a strong an independent woman, who had taken her life in her own hands, by taking it out of the hands of those, who had stolen it from her.  My destination this time was down under, Australia.  My suitcases held everything I had owned, and in my arms was the most precious thing in my life, that I would ever own, or had ever had, Aari, my child!

I had never been a romantic. Didn't get a chance to develop this habit, though am sure, like many, I was also born with this trait,  but then I had lost it.  As they say  if you don't use it, you lose it.  That's why maybe seeing him there  filled me with  dread instead of happiness. What was he doing there  I had thought.  "You didn't help me, but see I'm here," he had told me.  And after our first meeting, he started to come and see me every week  sometimes a few times.  He was doing an engineering course in another school at the same university, and lived in this part of the city too. Sometimes I agreed to have a cup of coffee with him but otherwise I'd try my best to avoid him.  Then one day he asked me to meet him for a drink at the uni bar, which was close to, where he was staying and I refused.  And that's when he took out a letter that I had written to him 4 years ago. I'll post this to your husband if you don't, and he had walked a

Then things started to change.  As one day, coming back from the shops, carrying a few heavy bags of groceries, their plastic cutting into me frozen fingers. It was winter, and was about to snow, and I was walking home, when someone driving past, maybe coming from the grocery store, stopped, and offered to drop me near my house, and for reason, I had accepted to get in, and took the lift with this stranger.  She had later told me, that I should never accept a lift with a stranger, though, in this case, she turned out to be a kind person, and then she also become a friend, and at her insistence, I had joined the local library, which ran classes, gave away free books, and lessons in English, in life skills. It all had started to help me pass time, and occupy my mind.   I also learned a lot, and I discovered that I enjoyed reading. Without knowing, I had actually been reading for the past one and half years, the subtitles on the tv movies, and had already improved my language a lot. But n

All that had been more than a decade ago, and last month it was the anniversary of the 15 years of my coming overseas, the day, when I had landed at the airport in UK, as a new bride, when I had been a simple and naïve, a hilly billy, young and ignorant girl from a very small town in India.   Now, I was in Australia, working in a publishing company, had a good income, owned my money, and my own house, and every bedroom in my house was mine. I could do whatever I wanted to do. I didn't share anything with anyone else. Not even my thoughts, actually more so, my thoughts!  And it was a lonely existence. Loneliness, I didn't mind. Or I hadn't so far, but since a few weeks ago,  actually, from the day, a bird had followed me home, I was restless.  There were unsaid things, unprocessed thoughts, and incidents, which needed to be processed, so I could be free of those.  I had finally, decided to write it all down.  I did not drink wine, or any other alcohol, but that week, I decid

Every day became the same day, same routine, same activities, same surroundings, so much so, that I would forget what day of the week it was. And would get in trouble for not remembering that it was the weekend next day, and forget to do the laundry, or pack my things in my small bag.  As every Saturday, I would move to the small room, next to the entrance, called the spare room, I knew 'spare' meant something more than what one could use, so could be given to others, but now I was learning it was for something not important, or valuable enough so it could be spared.  And this room was meant for nothing important. One could use it to keep their handbags, shoe racks, extra jackets, coats, umbrellas, or a spare tv, a small bed, and a wife, as was the case in my house. Though  it was still my house, as I was the person who mostly lived there, took care of this place, cleaned it, kept it nice, and cooked in it. Only I knew what had finished and every week, what was needed, though,

It was finally all coming back to me.  like a torrent of memories.  Yes, to air something, I need to take it out. Out in the sun, out in the open at least!  So whatever, I needed to get out, to be able to deal with whatever had happened, I needed to acknowledge it, process it, express it, and then file it away!  Otherwise, I would be haunted, as these shadows will be following me always, just like the birds that had followed me.  And just accepting there were things that needed to get out of my system, I already felt a bit lighter.  I no longer had intimate friends, at least not since, a long time... and now, if I wanted to have one, who had been knocking at the door to my heart, I had to finally open up.  so  I had decided to pen it all down and started to write, finally, what had happened!  When the aeroplane had taken off, I had taken a long breath, a sigh of relief, a feeling of being finally, stable, alone, and in control, at least till I landed!   I can still feel it. How I had f

Why and what makes us sad? In my work, I always read a lot about others' sadness, their stories, about their dreams, their loves, their griefs, their repentances.  The repentance in doing what keeps them away from themselves?  or is it an escape from those or 'what' that they run away from?  I remember the scene from years ago, still, the train leaving the platform and an old man running beside it, to give a bottle of water to someone travelling in the train. And he managed to do so, and I was relieved. I liked happy endings!  Yes, I used to. And I also knew that most stories didn't always end that way.  But what I had not been prepared for was what actually happens. As, my own story of my town, where I had been born, and lived the 19 years of all my life, was to end, in a strange way, and I was to learn that stories don't end in happiness or grief, they just end.  At least some of them.  Others look as if they are ending happy but mayn't be, and vice versa.  It

And the sadness of the day when I had met the ibis. What was that?  I was thinking.  And suddenly I realised that I had actually not thought about many such things in a while.  Being happy, sad, or afraid. No, I had been just not thinking.  Blocking off a lot, good and not that good memories.  I know, life gets so busy and is so full that there is hardly any time to indulge in reflecting about life, but people, I am sure do realise what is happening,  or what had happened in their lives.  But I, yes, I used to too. But for a while, I hadn't.    I started to reflect and remember the things, I had turned away from.  Things too hard to accept, think of and too hard to face.  So what do you do with such things?  Like woollens in summer you put them away.  But the thing about dirty woollens is they get fungus or silver fish, so you are supposed to clean them, wash them, air them, dry in the sun and then pack them for the summer, with  Phenyl  tablets, or dried leaves of neem, the bitter

  So why did a bird follow me?  I was thinking, and that too on two different days, and two different birds. One day a Cockatoo, and then four weeks later, an ibis had followed me home.  I wanted to know why they had done that.  Even after a lot of research on the internet, I was still nowhere.  The connection between these two days, that birds had followed me home, was the first and the only piece of research I had gathered and other than that I couldn't think of anything else to build any theory.  And then I struck gold. These two days when the two birds had followed me home, also had another connection. Both had evoked two different and quite strong emotions in me, fear, and sadness.  In both cases, there was this feeling of loss, the fear, the urgency to get away.  How was I feeling that day when I met the cockatoo, walking right there behind me.  And for some reason, I had been scared, afraid of it, or had it make me realise something else that I was afraid of?  I was wonderin

One thing was sure that there was some connection between the two days.  The cockatoo day and the ibis day.  What was the reason these birds had followed me home?  I wanted to find out.  I decided to go on the internet and read a bit about these birds, and find if there was any mention of the incidence of anyone being followed by any bird.  I found quite a few people, who had been followed home, or work, or otherwise, by birds.  The reasons given were not much other than the bird being someone's lost pet is looking for its owner, or that it likes the person, wants food, or why a bird walks behind a person is to grab bugs and other small creatures who are disturbed by the bigger shape of a person or the birds that follow people in a park, or a garden, even on the road, want them to leave the area, as the birds might have a nest there. Magpies are known to do this, and they might even swoop people. Not much to explain what had been in my case. So I turned to look for some clue on the

It was exactly after four weeks, when, while walking back from work, I realised there was someone behind me and when I turned around, yes, an ibis was there right behind me. It had its one claw raised a bit, as if I had caught it in motion.  It was a neat looking ibis, its hard black long beak turned a bit inside, its almost white with a bit of beige feathers ironed on its both sides. Its head was shiny, and it's eyes were soot black, with mauve circles around them, and the way it looked at me, sent a shiver down my back. It was a very wise look, a bit sad.  And for some reason, I remembered, yes, sad and wise go together.  Wisdom brings sadness, as you know. And with a few centuries' knowledge (as I would go home and read a bit about ibis birds), no wonder there was this sadness oozing its demeanour, especially, its sad eyes, and that knowing look penetrated me, as if reflecting some sadness in me too.   This time, I was not scared but really heavy with some unknown sadness. I

That was the day when a bird followed me home for the first time.  I had not realised, there was someone behind me as I walked at leisure listening to an interesting podcast, most probably, an audiobook, on my phone, but right at the front door of my house, when I turned to get my keys out of the handbag, I was startled as I saw it, right there in the middle of the path that I had just covered, it was there.  It had not been there a minute ago, so where did it come from, I was wondering, it was facing me, it must have been behind me, I realised.  It was a cockatoo. A yellow crusted one.  I tried to shoo it away, but it just stood there, its beady black eyes looking at me. I had seen a few of them in the park this afternoon, but hadn't taken much notice of them. At least I hadn't been afraid of them, but now while there was just one of them, I was feeling uneasy. I quickly opened the door and got into my house, shutting the door behind me quickly.  I didn't want to give the

Tikku was hiding behind a big pot of honey,🍯 checking on Winnie the Pooh, as he wanted to see what the silly old bear was going to do.  But then it started to rain again. He couldn't see much.  Interestingly he was not getting wet. He looked up and saw a small cloud looking down on him, smiling and covering him from the other bigger clouds. Tikku smiled back and saying thank you, kept his vigil. He was still watching Winnie the Pooh and waiting for Piglet.  Pooh bear was humming a song and walking from one side of the honey pot to the other. He still had not put his hand into the pot, that was strange, Tikku thought!  But Pooh bear was just walking round and round 🙄  Tikku couldn't hear what the bear was singing, but he could imagine what it would be.  "When the wind blows,  Pigs can fly When it rains,  cats and dogs fall from the sky When the rain goes, and the Sun shines, then comes the rainbow saying hello hello hello" ! Pooh bear must have taken at least 10 roun

Tikku really enjoyed the game of the missing pages with his mum, and imagining the story.  Soon mum went back to the kitchen to finish her other chores, she usually lied down for a while afterwards and it was also time for Tikku's morning games and his 'nap' before lunch. He went to his room and took the book with him. He was still thinking where could Piglet be.  Oh, Piglet likes to clean With his broom  Maybe his broom got lost And he went looking for it.  May be he flew away in the wind  wroom!! Wroom! Tikku smiled.  Suddenly there was a whoosh and a knock on the window. He went to see and there was Piglet flying .  He looked worried, so Tikku decided to help him come down.  He looked around and saw his skates and he quickly wore them, and ran out.  "Piglet don't worry, I'm coming!"  Tikku yelled. He ran and ran after the Piglet. The wind got stronger and stronger, and it also started to rain.  Tikku saw many cats and dogs falling from the sky, but not

Tikku was carrying his favourite book 'Winnie the Pooh' to the kitchen, where his mum was baking, and might have some time to read a bit for him. He had already checked the pictures and was quite excited, and was almost running with the half opened book in his hand.  When he got to the kitchen, his mum asked him to help her in rolling some cookies, so after putting the last batch in the oven, she could sit and read the book to him. He was chatting away about the honey trail, that he knew Winnie-the-Pooh was going on with his friend Piglet and was wondering whether they were going to get lost in the hundred acres. He wanted to find out it all, but also didn't want to know!   His mum poured a cup of cold milk for him, and put a freshly baked cookie in a plate for him, then carrying a tray with her own cup of coffee, she came outside the kitchen towards the back veranda, where they had recently put a bench and a couple of low chairs to enjoy the winter sun.  "Come Tikku,

Sounds familiar? Don't we always consider ourselves to be lacking in something, or having too much of something?  At least I do.  And I am not talking of lack of vitamin D, that my doctor had also told me that I'm deficient in, or too much of fat, that I know I have, as I've weighed myself on BMI scales, I'm talking of attributes, qualities, vices and virtues. I think, or yes, I believe many people that I know, believe just as I do,  that "I'm the most kind hearted person, but I'm the most misunderstood person, too!" All the qualities, such as generosity, kindness, simplicity, they attribute to themselves, while 'other' people are clever, conniving and they take advantage of their 'goodness'.  Yes, I've heard people say this about themselves,  "I keep giving to others, and am so nice towards others, but others, they don't reciprocate my kindness. My heart is so big, but others are stingy, they don't care, they are not g

How are you  on this cold and wet evening.  Hope, warm, safe and fed, watching the day go by, getting ready to go to bed,  grateful for the things  that went okay,  and getting ready to face the things that didn't go that way.

Do ho u ses have memories?  Do they fall in love with the people who live in them, or those who visit. And can houses hate someone?    Yes, hate enough to kill them,  strangle  them!   And that's what seem to have happened to the couple.  The couple who had moved in, after the old woman was tricked to sell, and then chucked out of the house, just to die in the old age home, the house took revenge!   I'd not have been convinced, but then the Real estate lady, the greedy face woman with an ugly heart, her car was smashed by the tree in the porch, and the whole night, you could just hear the villainous sounds of Ha Ha Ha! As the tree and the house kept shaking hands!

The world, it is said, is full of people, some are Learners and some non learners.  How do we learn?  We ask questions.  Those who ask, get answers. Those who don't ask, follow others' answers. They don't own their knowledge, as they don't have it! So what differentiates a learner from a non-learner,  Ability to ask questions,  Picasso is supposed to have said  "computers don't ask, they only give answers".

No matter, if we are in lockdown,  With nothing normal happening Hibernating us people,  but nature is all ablaze with life following its rhythms  Spring is here,  springing out of death and decay,  dry wood has come back to life Bringing some hope of renewal!