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

  Secrets don’t lie, but they become lies, that we keep telling ourselves. This poem is inspired by the prompt of course, but much before that a comment I had left on   Hart’s article,   had kept me thinking, and I wanted to extend that conversation. The shadow lane There were no words to express how I felt at this betrayal of my faith Actually words were there, and I did shout, but something remained choked into my throat, I could’ve, but I didn’t spit it out! Because, if I had, and said it all, the words might have broken a lot yes,  the sacred ties of relations, were among them, it was too high a stake that I dared not take! I carried them, buried in my heart, and inside me, they remained dormant, like the seeds of a bitter harvest nourished by my silent tears and warmed by my sunny smiles!! In this optimum condition my secret grew to flourish later and there on the right side of my breast a bunch of lies started to flower outside me!! I stood in front of a mirror flourishing my fla

I always thought we could sort  things amicably,  I always thought we understood 'us' What moves us together towards what we believed in,  What made us laugh and what made us cry yes, we shared  that story, that joke, that tear!  Till it turned out to be a fifty fifty game.  You didn't know me, and I only knew you,  from my side, 50% only! 

  Your shadow your self your friend is with you!

 When we talk of being anxious we say oh I've anxiety, we don't know what we are talking about. Reminds me of a rich child asked to write an essay about a poor family and the child wrote, It was a very poor family even their Gardner, their driver their nanny and the cook were so poor!

 Secrets don't lie, but they hide lies that become our truth  Secrets don’t lie, but they become lies, that we keep telling ourselves The shadow lane There were no words to express how I felt at this betrayal of my faith Actually words were there, and I did shout, but they remained choked into my throat, I could’ve, but I didn’t spit them out! Because, if I had, and said it all, the words might have broken a lot, with the sacred ties of relations, it was too high a stake that I dared not take! I carried them, buried in my heart, and inside me, they remained dormant, like the seeds of a bitter harvest nourished by my silent tears and warmed by my sunny smiles!! In this optimum condition my secret grew to flourish later and there on the right side of my breast a bunch of lies starting to flower outside me!! I stood in front of a mirror flourishing my flawless body for one last time, before putting my dreams locked into the cupboard on its highest shelf, I saw my fleeting days of yout

  Destiny is an interesting, and complex idea, Is destiny an action in a particular direction? or Do we act in a certain way to create a direction for our destiny? Destiny is so much like the concept of Karma , from Bhagavad Geeta, “Destiny, which cannot be changed, might create the context for a certain action, but it is one’s attitude towards this action which makes all the difference, and that is still in one’s hand”.* “Do we become what our karma is, or do we make our Karma /destiny?” That is what I think sometimes! Do you too? Would you change your course of action if you knew what was going to happen at the end of it, or would you let it still run its course? We don’t know, most of the times, what would happen in our lives, but we make efforts to create a destiny for ourselves, a particular destiny, which has success written on it. So, are our achievements, due to the opportunities, and the choices, that have been created by someone beyond us? or whatever, we are destined to ach

  Desire and Need In my garden, I see a butterfly, beautiful colours, flapping its wings, dancing gracefully, its silent swan lake belle, sliding from one side of the garden to another, from one plant to the other.  And then I also see a honey bee, going buzz buzz, working from one to another plant too, making honey, pollinating my zucchini and cucumber flowers. And today, suddenly, I thought, Oh a butterfly is like a desire, where as a honey bee, is like a need. Desire is always beautiful, always desirable!  Need may not be beautiful, but is a necessity. Yes, a ‘desire’ is different from a need, it is a want, a wish. Desire as a noun, and as a verb too.  Just like love.  In love it is said, You may not be in love with someone anymore,  but you can always love them! Similarly, you can have a desire, while you don’t desire anything. That is certainly possible. Just like: I have a wish, but I don’t wish for anything. It is an internal adjustment! So,  What do I desire? Or What is my desi

 Why? Not a question only, a quest for answers. Why? Spirituality, an awareness of beyond what I'm what I have, what I’m doing, and where am I going.

 I woke up this morning, to see my follower numbers had increased in the past few hours, but ‘not wow, 299, but why is it only 299?’ I was reminded of a story in Hindi, that I had read most probably in  Chanda mama , a children’s magazine, enjoyed by adults as well, titled ‘ Ninyanve Ka Pher’ A poor person who was quite satisfied with just a few rupees who could earn or was handed out, one day finds a little purse in his house, thrown by someone through the broken window. And there in the purse were a few shining golden coins, yes, may be 100 rupees. He sat down to count one, two, three, twenty, forty five, 78, 89, and then 99. He looked under the purse, swept his floor a few times, looking for the one coin, the 100th one, which he expected to be there somewhere and that he might have missed in his counting. Everyday he started thinking about the missing coin, and was in a foul mood, and angry, he became suspicious of his neighbour, and was short with his wife, had a quarrel with his b

Yes, usually, I woke up a bit late and missed the bus, or the train or whatever proverbial I had to catch So by the time I got there, wherever I had to be, the bell had gone, the seats were taken,  and the doors were already shut. yes, always missing out. And sometimes, I went to sleep a bit early,  and didn't see the glowing misty circle around the moon  to know that it will rain today. So came home soaking wet, a bedraggled un glamourous, ugly and uncomfortable wet cat. I was told. Always bringing stray dogs home Always tarrying on the way to school  Losing my pencils and my ribbons Drawing and doodling in maths book Giving away my lunch Forgetting to do the homework And day dreaming in the class Or the days when I went to bed too late  to miss my early morning bonanza the sun rise, the birds chirping, the bus arriving. I missed it always, I was told. Yes, you are a failure. You are never going to get anywhere, You need to work harder, sleep less, or sleep more. You need to be on

  On a moonlit night in summer when jhingurs go  jhing jhing jhing creating an electric tune  to just lull my senses when the night opens up to clasp me in its arms, and the starry sky beckons me home,  Just like a child that I am I want to go home, to sleep in its lap its arms wrapped around me like a cool chaadar, in which  One can get lost,  or can find  oneself.

 Opaque cloth late twist rain Rain had kept me company  the whole day, and till late last night,  the sound of rain kept me up my eyes opaque with the light of the unshed tears,  and a twist in my heart  strung across the horizon,  dripping like a wet cloth  that the day had left to dry and forgotten. as it looked down on me, and I looked at the sky!

"What makes you angry?" If someone bothered enough to ask me, I think I'll tell them a story  Yes, my walnut story, when I was very angry at myself for my carelessness! I might even tell them about the time when  in my class once..... Then, when I was fuming with anger, because, while at home... And then at work, what,  I can see a pattern emerging, right from that time   I cannot tolerate 😫  carelessness! when I'm careless about something something when someone is careless about someone /something The environment, the park, the road, public transport, health  Ill tell them,  I get angry when .................🙃 

How can one be sure of anything now a days? Things are happening, changing, developing so quickly. Each time, you realise, some sand has shifted beneath your feet,  So how can you be sure of what you know, anymore. As, even before you know, things change, moving the whole board game a bit. Starting from the big bang the chaos,  in every age, to explain what 'it is all about',  Vedanta, Brahman, dukkha, samsara,  Nada, existentialism, nihilism,  Quantum theory, String theory, complexity theory, even a chaos theory.... The cat is dead or alive, all perspective, didn't we start like this?  The snake or the rope the pot or the clay? Cheese/chocolate/sex/Eggs/Milk/Wine good, then was bad, is good now. Natural remedies were good, then bad, then good, now bad again. get waxed! Green revolution wow, not anymore!  Globalisation, localisation! What? Pluto used to be a planet for hundreds of years,  And suddenly not any more.  Truth is one, described as many! Sands keep shifting.  So,

Read about the conception of soulmate being a western concept.  I started to think Is it only a husband or wife or a lover, who can be a soul mate!!  Can't a soul mate be a friend!!  Just a friend, no strings attached. 

Strangely, it turned out to be just a normal sunny day And I had always thought  It will rain and storm. and shower at least,  A mayhem will break out the day, I passed,  but I did, with nothing like that happening! 

 The feeling of this divided freedom day is of a bitter taste.  In an already divided society with,  you know,  all the possible divisions,  now we have yet another one of those.  Yes, those who can and those who can't be free! 

Now, the bird was Tikku's responsibility.  He felt it as the poor bird was actually really small and its very small eyes, full of very big tears, were looking at Tikku, with some expectation.  "Ohhh! there there...lets see", Tikku tried to be as caring and 'know it all person' just like his own parents were,  He got up from the floor and reached for his pillow, Putting it next to the little bird, he coaxed it to climb up onto it. The bird luckily was not hurt or anything.  Maybe, as Tikku thought, it was just lazy, or may be it was tired.  The bird climbed up onto the pillow and again closed its eyes.  Very carefully, Tikku picked up the pillow with both hands, and quite gently, he put it on his bed. He also climbed up on his bed, as he was feeling a bit tired too. He thought, he heard tweet tweet of a few birds. And he was happy, Oh, so they were all coming back, but Tikku was feeling sleepy and just wanted to close his eyes.  Right then, his door opened and his

Tikku, as he had decided to think about the habit of sleeping in birds, himself. But exactly at that moment, the bird opened its eyes, and fluttered its eye lashes at Tikku. Oh, so you are awake now. Do you want to get up? Tikku asked it softly.  He was eye to eye with the bird, and the cheeky bird gave him a smile and turned its little head away to go back to sleep. But Tikku, just as his own mum woke him up sometimes, when he didn't want to get up, said to the bird, "Waky, waky, rise and shine dear", and the bird reluctantly got up.  Tikku said to him that all its friends had gone somewhere, and if it didn't get up, it will be late, and all will be gone and it will be all alone. Now suddenly, the bird looked a bit disturbed and with its little beak turned up said, "But I don't know where they are!" Its little eyes brimmed with tears, Oh dear!  Tikku was perplexed.

Tikku was watching as the little yellow birds kept disappearing from his pillow. And soon there was no bird on the pillow. It was completely blank, white pillow.  "Where did they go?", Tikku was thinking. He wanted to get up and look for himself, but he was supposed to be lying down, and getting better.   That's what his mum had said to him when she had left him a few minutes ago to rest and get better.  "Maybe I can just take a little peek to find out where the birds have gone". He thought.  Getting up from his bed, he was about to go towards the window, from where most of the things he had seen flying out, but then he couldn't find his slippers where he had left them, supposedly, as he was not too sure if he had.  He bent down to check, as sometimes, his slippers hide under the bed. They were a bit naughty.  And then that is where he saw one little yellow bird lying on the carpet right next to his slippers, actually in between his two slippers, which were

Writing has always been an expression of my feelings about, things that I enjoy, what I love about life, or what pains me, what I appreciate, or what troubles me in our society. Things that I want to share, my experiences and memories that clothe me. My own goals and destinations, my resting points, the curbs and the bends, the lost or marked steps on the road of my personal journey, all reflect in my writing, as unknowingly I get woven in the fabric of my poem, my fiction, my essay, my article, hidden, but always there. I’ll keep writing and putting out what I have to offer in terms of topics, those that are dear to me.  I’m a compulsive writer, and I’d write about anything, any topic. Nothing is out of bound for me, except for a few topics, that I would not touch, at least for now. I’d write about love, pain, happiness, about beauty, and art, and the simple pleasures of enjoying a beautiful moment with someone, or just about nature. I’d write to hope for a bright sustainable future

O ne morning Tikku woke up not feeling great.  His mum checked his forehead, his throat and his pulse. "Hunnn!" She hummed and left the room to get a few things to make Tikku a bit more comfortable. while Tikku was lying down, feeling quite special for being 'a bit under the weather', as his Dad had said before leaving for work.  Tikku had his favourite pillow and his one eyed puppy Orio with him, but his mum brought a box of tissues, a small bell to ring if he needed something, urgently, to call her, and she also brought a bottle of water. She poured some water into a tumbler, and Tikku drank that quickly. He was not very hungry, but was thirsty. Mum said that she would make something light for him, something delicious. Once mum left the room, Tikku lied down with his cheek on the pillow, and closed his eyes. he was feeling tired and had a funny feeling in his head.  There was a flock of little yellow birds printed on his pillow, that matched the duna cover.  Suddenl

Yes, we live in this world, where wars are not in a battlefield,  As in every field there can be a war against anyone anything,  anywhere,  there can be a battle. War on terror,  war on drugs,  computer hacking,  cyber wars Drone spying/ video games are all about  killing Autonomous wars Not anonymous only, but autonomous assassins, And for the collateral damages no one to be accountable. Hemingway wrote about a moveable feast,  yes, that is what life was supposed to be. But now what has it become? Cyber war Al warfare Bio warfare A moveable war?

Saying no has been the most difficult thing for me. I find it the hardest to say to someone "sorry I can't".   Or to say   "Sorry I won't be able to,  Or sorry I don't know. Or sorry ....". Oh dont get me wrong  I do say sorry otherwise, and say it a lot. It has been, you know the prerogative of my generation, we who are not the generation xyz or whatever letter is going now a days.  We the ones who occupy earlier alphabets we said sorry to parents teachers, neighbours and then we say sorry to our own children, our students all the time  and to the children in general sorry we didn't know about childhood trauma sorry we messed up the planet Sorry we bought plastic stuff sorry I this  sorry I that!  I'm taking of saying 'no' politely.  And this inabilty to say 'no' politely or otherwise had landed me in a lot of trouble too.  Finally that day I said no.  Such a relief  Heavens didn't fall.  No one had a heart attack.  And the w

 How does it feel when you lose a habit,  if that's possible?  Yes, when you wake up feeling cured of a prolonged disease? And you go to sleep without any anticipation of those dreams that had kept you awake for years. It is a strange and empty feeling. Not bad! Not good! Just empty! 

  I still call you, my home!   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? –are you still there  Tabulum …? *   Oh, but stop! What’re these sounds, who’re these people? What’s the matter? There are people running and shouting? “They’re coming, they are coming!”  They’re plundering our world, stop them!”   And those chasing them are shouting “Run! Chase them out, take it all back”. But listen to what they are all saying,  please! Listen! “ Buddham Saranmam gacchami; Dharnam sarnam gacchami; Saṅghaṃ saraṇaṃ gacchāmi”** “We were here before you! Much before you. We built it, we built it all! We had built this and you 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!  My ‘country’! But my voice drowns in the mayhem of slogans   “Move forward”;  “Go back, where

 Cancel culture is like hanging people on display to shame them.  It is the shame, disgrace, and the fall from whatever stature they had had pre cancellation, which is worse than actual hanging of a person. To be liked, loved and adored for their talent, or politics, or position, to be disgraced, with their position of respect and love, snatched away.  I've been thinking since I heard this talk today, on RN, Counter Point.  So why is this critique of the Cancel culture sympathetic to perpetrators. Or is it favouring those who had power of some sort. I know how hard it is to raise a finger at someone whom you had put on a pedestal, but if the person turns out to be a fraud, then it is ok to put them in their place, that they deserve, is ok. 

It is so clear, so obvious!  They made her resign.  She was doing so well  but they just wanted her gone! It was always what and when they decided.  They have the power.  You don't know  it is their conspiracy.  They want us to believe in this, so they can scare us into compliance.  First it was ..then it was this... and now this! They are always after our freedom.  Can't you see what their plan is.   I heard this doctor/scientist/ whoso ever, contradicting everything going on, He/she says we are being suppressed, because they don't want the truth to be told. And I'm always wondering who they are!  These nameless  faceless 'them'! 

The case was not complicated. There was no need for another listening. The judge was satisfied. They had worked out everything, amicably.   Measuring the time spent together, and apart,  calculating the money, earned and spent, the  liabilities and the assets, they would divide everything.  She gets the house, the stuff, kitchen, bedroom furniture and kids' clothes, books, bags,  and umbrellas. He gets the car and the dog. She gets the children. He gets the right to visit every fortnight.  She gets to have them for Christmases, denying him the right to make the rocky road with them.  But Easter is his! "You are granted divorce" There was a visible sigh of relief from everyone.  A balloon escaped from a child's hand, maybe. And a sob too!  An advertisement for a bank  written boldly in yellow and black  Yes, we can!  rising slowly in the family courtroom!

Oh God, are you listening? And She said Yes I am!  But what about you? Are you listening?