Monday, 30 December 2013


Haiku Heights #315 - Expectation

a new year of hope
is all that I ask for.
is it too much?

    homework unfinished
       Lord , forgive me
let teacher be sick tomorrow.

(I know this is very harsh but each one of us must have wished for in our childhood)


eager eyes on the path
waiting for his return
    a soldier's bride.

                            for :  haiku heights

Sunday, 22 December 2013


    wedding vows
   bruises on body
'gifts' of a life-time.

 education, sanskaars
   given by parents
     gifts for life.

for :  haiku heights

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Do not disturb



This time your entry must contain, ‘Do Not Disturb’

Entering with my sole accompaniment , my hand bag , I glanced  at the spacious lobby playing soft music ,the sparkling brass pot-holders and figurines placed strategically gave a clean look to the bright interiors done by the famous architect .The carpeting sunk my feet deep into the softness giving an effect of floating in space. This place reeks  of money and to camouflage the stink , artificial floral air fresheners were  generously used.
The staff in their crisp uniform moved about with measured steps flashing plastic smiles plastered over their heavily made up faces. I was already feeling hot and suffocating despite the low temperature of the air-conditioned environs .

 I approached the back office staff and completed the formalities.


 A  'Do not disturb' sign in bright red resonating  a Greta Garbosque aura, hung on the door knob. This was going to be the scene of action. 


The estranged star-wife , Suzy, lived in this spacious suite. Her parents and in-laws with their common family friends pitched in to save the failing marriage.
This was kept a highly guarded secret but news travels faster than the speed of light and the general public  got a whiff of scent about something being cooked surreptitiously.

I was still looking around getting to be familiar with the new surroundings , rules and etiquettes of my job.

Suzy had asked for extra napkins. I was asked to accede to the demand.

I placed the napkins on the table. A huge bowl of fresh fruits lay on the table. I adjusted the bowl and I noticed that she was in a short red dress with no jewellery . The red stilettos complemented her dress . She had dark circles under her eyes  and the loss of weight had an effect on her body structure and she looked weak and waif-like.
My first day as a staff member of housekeeping at the White Lily hotel was done.

The next day , I entered room no 629 with  my colleague for change of linen. The bowl of fruits was untouched. I  moved the bowl and set the contents of the table in an orderly way.

When I was alone in my office , I removed the bug that I had dropped it in the bowl of fruits. I listened to the conversation with rapt attention. Suzy was talking to her close confidante and her business partner , another star-wife , giving her the details of her frayed marriage and the reasons for her separation from her super-hero husband. A high profile separation entails a media scrutiny and to avoid the embarrassment to her sons , she had put them into a prestigious boarding school away from Mumbai. She missed her sons. She was sobbing. But she had to put on an artificial mask of being bold and moving on with her life.

I listened to the one-sided conversation. This was fodder for gossip and the spicy nuggets would increase the reader base of the magazine and would be numero uno . I would earn accolades and appreciation for my investigative journalism. This would be the high-point of my career. Tomorrow I would discard the role of a housekeeping staff which I had donned it to extract a slice of the star-wife's life and drape the garb of a true journalist.

But on retrospection, I gave it a second thought. Did my conscience allow me the audacity to pry into someone's personal life to report the happenings to the public? Here was a wife , a lady who was on a precipice alone without support and I was preparing to pull her down. My human values forbade me against taking this step. If I could not help her I had no right to push her into a deep fathomless well.

A person's personal life , be she a celebrity or a common person, needed not be dissected in the public laboratory. I too had walked on the thorns of a failed relationship. The mere remembrance of it scratched the dried wound to bleed and hurt. No, I decided not to part with the juicy information to my higher-ups . I am a journalist and I know the tricks of the trade and survival in this labyrinthine jungle. I would project her as a strong , independent woman in control of her emotions and life. The gullible public will quench its thirst with the juicy information. 

The inauguration of her store the next evening was a big event. The print media described her as glowing confident and resplendent post her separation . But she was far from it and I was the only witness to it. She had cleverly concealed her facial disaster with make-up. And she had adorned the mask with aplomb. The pictures in the newspapers and magazines flashed her false façade. She looked happy and I was satisfied with my work. Some secrets should remain secrets forever.

P.S. : This post is not intended to hurt or malign any person but makes an honest attempt to look at the other side.

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

List of WOW badges here.

A blessing in disguise

100 Words on Saturday – 11

 prompt is from Shilpa Garg of ‘A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose‘:  A blessing in disguise
                                                   Write Tribe

They enter as unwanted guests and as hosts we are on our toes to cater to their needs, as they take centre-stage and occupy a permanent place in the minds of our house.
Unless we turn tough and ignore the golden line 'Atithi Devo Bhav', kick them out from our lives they continue to reside without a thought of leaving.
I am not an ungracious hostess. I have just got rid of worries from my life and can feel the glow of my face.

But worries came in as a blessing in disguise and taught me valuable lessons. Dhanyavad.


                                          FOR  :  WRITE TRIBE - 100 WORDS -SATURDAY.

Friday, 20 December 2013

Freedom - Part III

Read the first part here. 

Read the second part here.

He slowly got up and dragged his feet , his shoulders free from the burden of guilt.
Lost in his thoughts , he did not hear the blaring horn and a powerful beam of light fell of his face ............

She was looking at the closed gate with a forlorn look on the face anticipating the arrival of a footfall but the shadow of hope that she longed for, was a distant mirage. 

Shivappa , the household help , came darting towards the closed gate.

Radha and Shivappa hurried to the City hospital.

Staring at Kisna  , lying in the Intensive Care Unit , Radha could not hold back the flood of tears. She wondered why destiny had played a cruel game of hide-n-seek with her. She was waiting for him to tell him that he was not bound by duty towards her and was free to lead his own life. Why didn't she express her feelings before it was too late? She reasoned with herself.

Kisna lying on the bed with doctor and nurses attending on him,  was oscillating between brief spells of conciousness  and fainting bouts. 

Kisna 's spirit hovered around Radha . He wanted to soothe her and comfort her. He desperately wanted to tell her that he had wished to start a fresh life with her. But he was helpless in death and he chose to be helpless when he was alive. Now he regretted his decision and behaviour. 

Radha had wished to free him from her life but death freed him and her. Now she was free of him but this was not the freedom that she had anticipated.

The soul had one last look at Radha. She looked so beautiful and pristine. His heart melted . He had frittered away his life. Now he wanted to live. But it was too late. He could see the God of Death signalling to him , to take leave of his earthly form  to enter the other world. He reluctantly followed Yama's trail.


P.S. : - Express and share your feelings with loved ones. Do not expect the other person            to understand your innermost feelings and reciprocate.   


Thursday, 19 December 2013

Freedom II

Read the first part here.

Kisna was sitting under the banyan tree. This was the tree under which Satyavan breathed his last. The dutiful Savitri chased Lord Yama , the God of Death, to bring him back to life.


His thoughts drifted to Radha. Her eyes full of hope must be dreaming of a conjugal life as any bride would. Her silent lips never brought out her feelings. But he was not stone-hearted not to sense it. He did not bear a grudge towards Radha. He was betrayed by his own father who had milked him because of his favourable gender. How much he hated his father for burying his dreams and aspirations. 

His father had given him a good start in life by virtue of a good education even though it had been beyond their means. By borrowing from Radha's father , he could afford to complete his education. But his father's inability to pay off the loans along with the accumulated interest strangulated his desire of settling down with Rekha , who studied with him. 

Bowing to his father's wishes and the fulfilling the obligation of a dutiful son, he reluctantly agreed to wed Radha. Thus Radha , unaware of all these manipulations was caught in the vortex of strange emotions , was a sacrificial lamb , a lamb who did not have the luxury to bleat.

 Rekha's parents chose a groom for her and she decided to settle down to matrimony bliss. 

Kisna had no-where to seek refuge. He had knowingly  made two lives suffer for no fault of theirs and in return he tormented himself. Since Rekha had wisely extricated herself from the third corner of the odd triangle , the two points had to be together by destiny on the same plane and complete the straight line of the journey of life.


He paid his respects to the holy banyan tree and decided to make a new beginning with his wife. He would ask her for forgiveness and accept her wholeheartedly and beg her to overlook his initial aloofness and embrace conjugal bliss.

to be continued....................... 

fantasy : theme thursday



with the threads of imagination
on the loom of a fertile mind,
I weave a carpet of fantasy
with motifs of wishes , mine.
fuelled by my positive thoughts
me riding on its crest,
gleefully , steering  the path
climbs into the clouds cool 'n' blue,
on the dusty desert dunes,
to the shivering snow summit,
kissing the grass green gazing,
sailing on the sea with sea-gulls,
searching the sun , rise on the horizon
basking in the tender rays
to rejoice , rejuvenate , regale.
adieu to the retreating fire-ball
to welcome the twinkling diamonds
strewn on the black blanket.
When my heart had its fill
I will embrace the cocoon
of the warmth of my home
to rest and recover.
sprout wings with the rising sun
to fly to unknown lands..............
Do join me as co-passengers
in the journey of life.

                             Theme Thursday

freedom-Part I

She was looking at the closed gate with a forlorn look on the face anticipating the arrival of a footfall but the shadow of hope that she longed for , was a distant mirage. 

How she wished she could turn back the ticking needles of time with her finger to freeze the moments . But the needles pricked her and she withdrew her hurt finger and the clock sprang back to life and her life was again a monotonous routine. No love or compliments were showered on her. The mirror on the wall never reflected her smile. The red circular dot that adorned her forehead reminded her how her life was trapped and there was no escape , but every morning bowing to societal norms she had to adorn it on her forehead. The jasmine flowers that she pinned on to her long lustrous hair did not excite her.The black beads around her neck pricked her conscience and she felt each bead mocking at her.


The furniture in the sprawling old mansion was  made of solid teak wood and she was one among them. Trapped in a loveless marriage , she felt suffocated.

 Unaware of the crowing of the cock , her internal body clock alarm woke her up . 
 Opening her eyes she dreaded , dreaded of another day. She longed to close her eyes and never have to lift her eyelids to feel the morning sunshine.There was no sunshine in her life. Darkness enveloped her mind and in absence of a ray of hope , her wishes remained stunted.

Radha's rantings found a way in her diary as words. The blank sheets of paper were filled up with her outpourings from her heart in the form of anger , anguish , betrayal but never of any hope. The clean white pages that she filled them up to empty the contents of her heart were a mute testimony of her innermost feelings that she would not share with the world. 

She looked at the garlanded photos of her parents and wished that they hadn't taken the decision to marry her off to Kisna whose father had borrowed heavily from her moneylender father. When Kisna's father expressed his inability to pay  the borrowed amount along with the interest, her father waived off the loan with her hand in marriage to Kisna.

 This was not a marriage of the minds but a marriage of convenience for both the fathers. Radha's father could not find a match for his only daughter who was blessed with a  fair complexion , chiselled looks and loads of inheritance weighing heavily on the marital scale but the other side did not match rather the other side of the scale was crippled with her inability  to talk and hear.

Destiny had cruelly made her deficient in this sphere but had abundantly blessed her with a poetic mind and a vision to see and analyse things. She pleaded with her father to let her travel the path of life without the loving grasp of a partner. But her father being a father could not see what Radha's young and sensitive mind could foresee. Securing her future with a spouse was paramount for her father.

Kisna saw only her disability but could not fathom her feelings as he made no attempts to look beyond her disability.
They lead separate lives under one roof confined as prisoners within the four concrete walls.

She decided to free him from the bondage of an unfair marriage thrust upon him. And by freeing him, she was doing a favour for herself ; liberating herself.

She was looking at the closed gate with a forlorn look on the face anticipating the arrival of a footfall but the shadow of hope that she longed for, was a distant mirage.

to be continued..................................

Tuesday, 17 December 2013

peace atop


The mountains wrapped in a stole
of snow , white , up the north pole.

calm and serene looked from afar
when peeped from a window ajar.

As a meditating Buddha , gaint
a whistling wind , blowing faint.

away from the vicious circle of bonds 
no masks adorned , true reflection in quiet ponds

no lies deceit or betrayal
pure , unadulterated  portrayal.

peace prevail on the pinnacle , 
no malaise ,  more miracle.

in search of greener pasture
I race up , closer to nature.

Rushing on the ascent
loosened the knots of blood , as I went.

the world below looked little
atop the skies, egos shattered brittle.

the beauty of the abode of Gods , divine
could not fill my twin vision

I embraced the serenity
breathing in purity

I sat down to meditate
disturbed thoughts penetrate.

An inner voice resonated
peace is in the mind.
as the musk-deer find
the fragrance of eternal tranquillity .

discarding the cloak
I returned to the warm soak
wrapped in the warm cocoon
its lonely at the top , chilled typhoon.

at peace with company around
and a new mantra found

this is my Karma 
and will follow my dharma.

Monday, 16 December 2013

Chor ke daadi mein tinka

I am acknowledging knithaurs tag and participating in Protest against Smelly Stubble (P.A.S.S)

I had read a story when I was a child. I recollected it as I read Blogadda's Protest against Smelly Stubble Contest. 

In a small village there lived many farmers who apart from farming activity used to rear hen for their poultry consumption. The hen would be counted by each farmer and kept safely in a big bamboo basket at night in their courtyard. The farmer , Shiva, noticed one of his hen missing. He searched and enquired with all his farmer neighbours.

Shiva's six year son , Ganesha , had seen the hen in Charandas's courtyard. When confronted , Charandas feigned ignorance. Charandas owned a small grocery shop and was a compulsive liar and a thief.

The dispute was placed before the  village panchayat. The headman was an old and wise person who white silver hair stood testimony to the many struggles he had faced and tackled.

He called a few suspects from the village along with Charandas. He made them stand in a line before the villagers and said that the spirit of the hen would torment the culprit.

The village headman glared at Charandas. Charandas felt uneasy. The village headman pulled a feather from this long beard and displayed it before the gathered crowd. 

Charandas fell at the feet of the headman and apologized profusely. Charandas was asked to part with his hen as punishment.

His long unkempt facial hair was the 'root cause' (pun intended) of him being exposed.

Chor ke daadi mein tinka.

Readers have you read this story in your childhood?

I am tagging Garima Nag , Uma , Aditya Manchanda , Sonal ,Sparking Aura

This post is a part of the Protest Against Smelly Stubble Activity in association with BlogAdda.

Sunday, 15 December 2013

Memories and dove

As doves build their nests with twigs, dried leaves and debris , we too , two of us wove our dreams , aspirations , expectations and laughter together and built a nest , sung , and ensconced in our own cocoon , far away from the harsh realities of life. At that juncture of the journey  , life was fun with little compulsions from parents and school-life . Me and my closest and bestest friend stayed close to each other , went to the same school to sit together on the same bench.We were like inseparable twins but without the share of fights of the siblings . I would like to call my friend A as it is first letter in the alphabet set and she was my first friend in school. A stands for excellence and was an epitome of excellence from my point of view. There could be nothing better than her.

Since she stayed in the next building , we were a part of each other's families and shared each other's cuisines , partaking food and basking in the warmth of each other's families.When exams were hovering on our heads, we studied together and helped each other in areas of our weakness. There was a spirit of co-operation and the witch of competition never swayed near us or between us. We regaled in each other's marks and report cards.

We celebrated each other's birthday as our own. I was always in awe of her and she was my shield who protected me from fights and insults barbed at me from other classmates. The negative vibes aimed at me lessen in impact due to her strong standing like the rock of Gibraltar.

School days were coming to an end and it was time to part and we entered into different streams . Her frequent visits to home from hostel were celebration time for us and her interesting life with her hostel mates made me smile.

The sands of time were slowly slipping away and at a rapid pace from our closed fists.
How much so we tried to hold the slipping grains it was futile. It was then I realised the true meaning of the proverb  'time and tide waits for no man''. Till then this existed only in the books .

 It was marriage bells for us. and we moved away and moved on with our new lives. We corresponded with letters and later on emails. Motherhood and other domestic responsibilities widened the chasm till we are now only friends on social networking site and liking'' each others status is not fun. Peeping into her world through frozen frames , I realize how far we have drifted away. It 's rather not possible to re-build bridges. 

But as I look back I feel happy for the memories that I have been able to garner and cherish. Change is constant as it is said and now I have switched over to the whole range of Dove beauty products . When will you switch over to Dove?

Read what all Dove users have to say about this product here.

Check and like Dove facebook page here.  

Dove Beauty Moisture Face WashDove Crème Bar

This post is written for contest 'Guessing game with my friend 'sponsored by Dove and Indiblogger.



of  joy or sad
tears of mother Nature
dew drops on grass.

dew drops on grass
sun-rays strike
glistening solitaires.

glistening solitaires
lovers walk bare-foot
he breaks blade of grass

he breaks blade of grass
goes on his knees
will you???

                    for :  haiku heights

Friday, 13 December 2013


With head held high, I want to tread
wish to spread my wings, without dread

I wish to conquer, the waves, gleam
My wide open eyes dream

Dream of ambitions
In bright light renditions.

I want not to grope
Nor wanderer be, in dark hope.

Steering towards my dream destination
in driver’s seat, a celebration.


P.S. : I have condensed my poem to 55 words but this has not prevented me from my dreaming , dreams of gigantic proportions. What are your dreams , your ambitions and aspirations?

                         FOR : WRITE TRIBE FESTIVAL OF WORDS II DAY 7

A beautiful poem by Sunita. Read here............................