Thursday, 18 September 2014

As The Sleepy Night....

As the sleepy night,                                                     
Creeps into deep slumber,
Reclusive obscure thoughts,                                             
Awaits to get unveiled,
Through poems through fables,
Through fictional stories,
Reliving their lives,
Rinsing off old worries,
They commingle together,
 Linking up unknown strands,
Filling in colours on canvass,
As if blessed with a magic wand,
Rhymed unrhymed,
Facts concealed in fiction ,
Display unmatched flair  ,
Words drenched in emotions,
Words drenched with care.


 Pics : Google Images

Linked up with Write Tribe Problogger 

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Waste to Wonderful....

Few easy to steps to make a ready to use pen stand from waste.

Step 1.

Step 2  

                                                             Step 3


Step 4

Final Step and we are now ready to use the pen stand.....

So, how is it....hope you guys like it :):)

Tuesday, 16 September 2014


“You have to go back, that’s your home now” they pleaded.

 In Laws…
“Don’t  ever show your face again.”
 Young Woman…
 “But where would I go, isn't  this my home”.
 In Laws…
“Go where ever you want, we don’t care”they declared their final decision.

“Ma’m where’s your home ?”

 Young Woman…



Pic : Google Images

Linked up with Write Tribe's Problogger 

Monday, 15 September 2014


Why are we bound in confines,
As if committing a horrendous crime.
Do look around,
And explore,
The trees sway,
The clouds galore.

Asking us to never relinquish,
Our dreams our aspirations,
Our honest wish.

Pics: Sushree

Linked up with Write Tribe's Problogger.

Sunday, 14 September 2014



Sudhir ran with full speed but it seemed as if he was destined to be late. The car had already left the campus leaving behind a trail of memories that filled his heart with happiness but at the same time snatched away his beloved Smriti.

The book dropped from his hands as a grief stricken Sudhir broke down in pain for not ever being able to speak of his innumerable emotions that he hid behind his subtle smile.
The book lay there on the floor untouched, ignored like a lost love feeling helpless and baffled waiting for someone to come for it’s rescue when the canteen boy’s eyes fell on it and within no time it found itself surrounded by numerous others on Park lane, famous for old books.

“As in books so in life, it’s not about the hours but the feelings that binds us…. Your’s Sudhir” were the lines written on the first page of a Nicholas Spark’s novel with the date of their graduation, that Smriti discovered on one of her expeditions for old books in the city and an unexpected celebration filled her heart with warmth speaking out unspoken emotions that Sudhir wasn’t able to.

Linked up with Five Sentence Fiction and Blog Adda's WOW.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.


Writing is its own reward.....

The  room was filled with books arranged in a neat manner. Speaking not only amongst  themselves but also about the possessor.
A man of thin built and advanced age emerged  behind the curtains after some time.

As he settled down for the interview, the young journalist interviewing him was impressed by his witty replies.
But the answer that really struck her was to this particular question where she wanted to know his feelings after receiving the award.

In a calm voice he answered “What can I say about my feelings after receiving this award, when writing is it’s own reward.”

Image: Google Images

For Write Tribe's ......

I am writing after quite some time and this quotation simply speaks out for me. Thank you WT for being the constant inspiration for bloggers :)

Thursday, 11 September 2014

A Poly(thene) -Tale....

Packed in a bundle,
I moved alone,
Mercied at the hands of my fate,
Filled with gravels and stones.
A mere tiny cluster,
That’s what they thought,
When they stumbled upon,
My body ain’t made of gold.
Perplexed I was
Regarding my  fortune,
Which never seemed to be,
In rhythm or in tune.
Lying down uncared along the dusty path,
Every single day I faced the sun’s mighty wrath,
Drenched in the monsoon rain,
Or chilly winter nights,
Nobody ever bothered about my rights.
Everyday’s not the same got proved that evening,
When a young lad touched my body,
And jolted my inner strings.
Awaiting to get trashed,
Or being blown up by someone,
I never did except to be picked by him,
A man of dirty  attire,
But a heart so clean.
With gentle caring hands,
He took me in his arms,
As if recognizing me in just one glance.
Happiness spread across his rough rugged face,
Making me feel more worthy,
Than a silk ribbon or a lace.
Worthless they had proved me,
After a single use,
Coz thousands surrounded their riches,
To get adored, to get mused.
Of different shape and colour,
Of different texture and feel,
At the end it’s the utility,
But nobody understands it still.
The moment I was picked by that lovable rag picker of mine,
My worthless plastic body did get a golden shine.
It’s not the place or riches that we all crave for,
But a simple caring soul,
That gives us our worth,
And our deserving whole.



Source : Google Images

Monday, 1 September 2014

Sunken Eyes....

They spoke it all . In silence . That’s what he loved about them . Their ability to express the innermost emotions that lies deep within . Away from this vigilant world . Dark , dusky or pale they simply evinced unparalleled feelings . Innocence of a child or grudge of an enemy . Shyness behind a newly wed’s veil or boastfulness of a rich . Confusion of a new recruit or clarity of a leader . Just one glance and it spills over as if waiting to get unleashed .
He wanted to give them a form . On a canvass . Being not just an artist but a paint brush too . To be able to palpate the gentleness with his tender fingers . To pen down immortal poetry in remembrance .
But he was confused . About one thing . It questioned him every night . Before he went off to sleep and after he woke up. He was unable to find the answer to this question that encircled him all around . His state of perplexity had no end .This state of confusion continued for long and the path to solution seemed bleak .
But as they say the solution to all our worries lies within . And he encountered it in a very unexpected manner . On a normal day , on his way to work .
The day was gloomy with clouds covering up the sun . Displaying their dominance and marking the arrival of monsoon . The trees sang in unison with the lovely flowers that had popped up their fresh faces early that morning . Drops of water descended down to ward off the lingering tensions of people down there . He too loved their arrival . The much awaited arrival . But not during the morning hours especially on his way to work . As things may seem as beautiful as they are but the reality is quite different . Water logged roads stand as the biggest terror for a common man on a daily basis .
Still he had to go . To reach his destination on time . And that’s when he found her . Near the lane. Under the flyover where innumerable cars zoomed across at life threatening speeds . He traveled everyday in the same route around the same time . But today it was remarkably different . He felt a different vibe inside . That spoke to him quietly . Assuring him of finding her again . The lost treasure that behold memories of a lost childhood .
She sat there . Weak , rugged , poverty stricken with a wrinkled face that spoke of foregone decades in her life . Hair undone . Fragile hands and thin limbs . A sunken eyes that begged for attention and pleaded for a penny . Parking his car at a distance , he ran towards her and hugged her tight . Surprising her as well as the onlookers . For a second their eyes met and drops of emotions trickled down . He could see it again in them . Those eyes . That spoke of innumerable emotions . In silence .
“Dai Ma Lets go" he uttered in haste . Literally pulling her hand and compelling her to move on .He was sure she won’t deny . Who does not want a secured life in a cozy home away from this mess . Life is unimaginable on the streets . He never knew how she ended up here . But had a faint idea of her circumstances after she left their home . Though he was not able to find a way to search for her but had indomitable spirit to be able to do it someday .
And today was the day . That had arrived after years , after decades . A satiated grin adorned his lips as he considered himself lucky enough to have found her . After all overcoming this challenge was not a small achievement . But he had no idea that a bigger challenge was awaiting him . After few minutes when he coerced her to move on again , she resisted , to his dismay .
She questioned “ You will take me , that’s fine . But what about the rest who have been my pillars of strength . The ones who spend their days and nights with me on this pavement . The ones who share their leftover food with me when they get it in charity . The ones who pull their torn blankets over me when I suffer in freezing cold . The ones who are my family now . They may not be my own but they are with me . Standing by my side on sunny days or rainy nights. Can you also do something for them ? If yes then take me along , I would not resist . If not then let me be on my own . If I survived all these days , then I will survive few more.”
He had no answers . As he was not prepared . Far he was from the real world that spoke out load in a high pitched volume . But who has time to listen to that . We already are overloaded with high pitched party numbers .
The gloomy day expressed itself on his bright face now . The answer to his question had unlocked a pandora's box in front of him . Though he returned back empty handed but was determined to fill them someday .
After a year and a half , the local newspapers published a column in some remote corner that spoke of a young man having opened an old age shelter home . It did display a photograph that showed him welcoming newcomers with folded hands . And behind him stood “ Annapurna Nivas” the new shelter home for forgotten wrinkled souls that now beamed with hope from hazy sunken eyes .


Skin & Bones Or Emotions

What Are you made of Skin  &  Bones Or Emotions