Saturday, 31 August 2013

7 things I learnt from life.

I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 1st-7th September 2013.

Seven things I learnt from life.

The interiors of a classroom teach a student, the 3 R's viz ;reading , writing and arithmetic. One becomes literate, armed with a degree to start earning to keep the wolf at bay. But life beyond the school/college gates are different from the one inside and in the school of life the student is a student for a life-time. During student life , one makes the world dance to their tunes while the exposure to the outside world makes one dance to life's tunes. What a stark contrast and harsh reality!
And no single person misses this opportunity experiencing this.

I too have woken from my reverie to be jolted to taste the bitter fruits of experience to better myself.

Truth does not (always) triumph.

I strongly felt that truth (always) emerges the winner but it is back-stabbed a thousand times
before it reveals its true self. A lie is gift-wrapped    
while truth is naked. Life is not a path of roses for the person who abides by truth. 

All characters in life are not black or white but grey.

Like a Hindi film, people in life ,I believed people are     either good or bad but with experience have stumbled upon reality that its human to have negative traits and either black or white do not exist.
If the grass is greener on the other side it means , the people there have watered it well.

The green ugly monster should not be allowed to raise it head. If a student has tasted success she has worked hard her way up. If a couple are happy in a marriage it shows they are constantly working ,shedding egos, balancing the gives and takes . There is no short-cut to hard-work.

The only thing constant is change.

Relationships, friends, hopes, aspirations, goals change with time and place. To accept this was a Himalayan task.  

One lives on hope.

However bleak is today, tomorrow should bring in better prospects. Cling to hope as an ant on a straw floating on fast swirling water. When one has a flicker of hope in the heart there is a way ahead to walk on.

To err is human but to repeat it, is stupidity.

Life does not come with a set of written manuals so its human to commit mistake. Mistakes are a proof of having tried things but failed or fell short of achieving the target but repeating the same mistakes time and again is knowing the pitfalls and yet blindly walking into it, is unpardonable. 

Live in the present.

The past has passed away and one cannot go there to  erase the mistakes. The future is unknown , unseen and unpredictable. So what is  known and within our control is present and is a gift. So live in the present and cherish every moment. 

There are many lessons I have learnt till date but accepting and implementing process is still work-in-progress. Do you agree with me , readers? How do you differ from me?

Google Images

teenager and mobile phone


Write an interesting and witty conversation between a teenager and his/her mobile phone.

Trigonometry is tough  and boring too, thought Jill as she turned the pages. Surely Jack must have finished this chapter , rued Jill. She pressed J to dial . It was switched off. Must be asleep , she concluded.
Frustrated , she casually tossed the mobile on her bed.

Oooouucchhhh ...........       Startled Jill looked  around, scared, trying to decipher the source of the sound . With no one for company , in her study room , she thought she is having bouts of hallucinations . But she trusted her memory and to confirm it, she picked up the mobile and once again tossed in on her bed.

 Oooouucchhhh. It hurts. said a voice. This time she was sure of hearing an unknown voice in her lonely room but could not bring to believe her ears. Is it one of the personalities that was after her, from a recent encounter on the Ouija board?. Suddenly the stillness of the night created a storm in her mind. Grabbing a pillow, "Wwwho is it?", the words barely tumbled out of her lips.

"It's meeeeeeeee , your mobile phone"

" I have a body and a spirit too" continued the voice.

"You can ttalk???" , said scared Jill.

"If you can talk incessant nonsense , why can't I talk sense, Jill?"

"You know my name" surprised Jill.

"I know the name of your boyfriend , your friends are and the messages you send and receive. Your whole life history is stored in my brain. No secrets hidden from me.No kidding , Jill". teasing ly said the spirit.

"What do you want mobile-phone spirit?"

"Rest, Jill. My body needs rest. Either you are talking, clutching my body tightly close to your ears that I can see the wax in your ear (unhygienic girl), or sending stupid messages to your friends, your long painted nails dig into my flesh, poking me , the music blaring is not music to my ears or clicking photos. I work night-shifts too. Don't I have any rights?."

"Rights?" , astonished Jill.

"Yes rights, I perform my duties faithfully, sincerely and round the clock that I rightly deserve rights .  At night you are either pressing my buttons , playing music or sending SMS. When you are not fiddling with me you receive SMSs from your friends sending tremors all over my body. Henceforth from 11 in the night to 7 in the morning I want to enjoy my well-deserved and rightly earned sleep. I need sleep to rejuvenate, recuperate and re-charge my 'batteries ' and rise with a smile on my face. Didn't your doctor say that   a human being needs rests 7 hours a days? Well , my body too needs rest."

Jill is flabbergasted , flummoxed  and feeling helpless.

"When you humans misuse me , I too revolt and rebel. The radiations emitted from my body harm you and incidence of brain cancer are on the rise. The hearing ability of man has gone down and there are accidents when people cross roads while talking and mobile phones are blamed for. You humans are blessed with brilliant brains to take decisions. What's stopping you? Use me , but do not abuse me".

Jill was taken aback. The mobile phone spirit is right. Human body or a gadget
both are inter-dependent and have to respect each other.

She plugged her phone to re-charge it . She switched off her bedroom-lights.
She too needs to rest and sleep. Trigonometry can continue the next day.

"Good-night, mobile phone spirit" said Jill

"Good night, sweet girl" , beamed a voice.

Jill smiled.


Google Images                         

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

Friday, 30 August 2013


The twin rose petals
hiding thirty and two pearls.
Smiles at adversities
hides pains and animosities.

Innocence writ on the face
lips sealed under a facade
A life behind the veil
It's time to shed the frail

O  lips awake
from  slumber, break
let the words flow
suppressed emotions glow.

tunnel of thoughts of the mind
getaway thru passage of lips , find.
fountain of volcano spout
Without fear or doubt.

The debris from mind cleared
impurities from heart cleansed
emerged a new caterpillar
fly in the clouds, dear butterfly, colour.

for : Theme Thursday

Thursday, 29 August 2013

Oh Krishna ! come to my land.

Come to my land oh Pitamber!
adorned with peacock feather
bright clothes and stones amber.
with a tune on your lips for  all weather.

Come and see for yourself O Keshava
the black clouds threaten to drown
honour of  gopikaas ,  scared as fawn.
Come to rescue , O Madhava.

The law of the land is blind
path to the chakravuyh you find.
Your sudarshan-chakra is the need
of the hour, destroy the evil from its seed.

O Parthasarthi, you led the way
to establish a righteous sway
You are  saviour, the only one
against 100 evils ,  spare none.

Come back in any form
and save from all harm.
O Govinda O Gopala
Krishna, nee begane baro.
(In Kannada it is O Krishna, you come fast)

Wednesday, 28 August 2013


Holding the side-bar ,as I stood still
thought of a the long drill

It is so tedious
to take the steps arduous

I began to count
till I lost track of the mount

going up the elevator is easier
but the flight up is busier

As I turned around
A grandma I found.

with eight decades and a  broad smile
she had the energy to walk a mile

In her wrinkled  finger
I found a clinger

"Come, its good for the heart"
winked she , step by step, a start.

Her laughter echoed
my doubts mellowed.

brimming with fun and humour
on top , in half an hour.

The journey I enjoyed 
my body , mind and spirit buoyed

The atmosphere atop was divine
surrounded by Gods nine

Grandma is right 
its good for the heart.


The younger generation  prefers to take the elevator while our grandparents took the flight of stairs which kept them hale and healthy. Climbing the long stairs they made friends and with fun and laughter did not realize the hard climb. There is no short-cut to happiness and success. Life's journey is akin to taking the steps , each at a time , if you miss you will trip and come rolling down.

For : poetryjam

Monday, 26 August 2013

Wanted Justice.

In an open letter , the mother of rape survivor pleaded the well-wishers,supporters and the media for privacy and relief to pick up the pieces of their life on the road to recovery and restoration. The mother requests for breathing space to regain their sanity and composure, which they had lost in the in the process.She further thanked for the show of strength for standing behind them and also the hospital staff, the state admin, CM's office and Police Department for their prompt action and support.

The culprits are caught, identified and booked. The ignited flaming torch in the minds of the public and media alike , should not die down and not be relegated to a small para on the fifth or sixth page of the newspaper but should be fanned to keep it alive whenever the winds of time and fragile public memory seem to lessen its intensity. The perpetrators of the crime should be punished and all loopholes in the law should be sealed tight and no room for leniency should be allowed. The punishment meted out should be so severe that no sick-minded person dare even to think of committing it. But in doing this, the needs and the emotional quotient of the affected survivor should also be taken into account and moral support should be provided. The accusing finger pointing should be brought down and that she had invited this danger upon herself by venturing into a secluded place should be not be replayed by the culture vultures.

Why is it that these sickening crimes are committed at regular intervals? No sooner has the dusted settled on one crime that another one is committed in another part of the country. Only the names of the survivor and criminals change , the crime graph rises. Isn't it time that we push for a death penalty as a punishment?   

India is a vast country and protection in every nook and corner and round the clock is not possible and feasible.  Gender sensitivity and respect as equal has to take from the grassroot level. But this is a long term solution. Harsh punishment to the culprits is the short term solution. Let us collectively take this responsibility upon us to see that justice is not delayed nor denied.

Sunday, 25 August 2013


Hanging upside down
      the bat sees
  the world perfectly.

   At night all sleep
       bat awake
the watchman to guard.

For : Haiku Heights # 273

Friday, 23 August 2013

Slow and steady


The hare and tortoise ran to compete. The hare slept with an alarm, while
tortoise ran on skate-board .The hare woke up to catch up with the tortoise

and both won the race.

for : trifecta writing challenge

life is an oyster.

"Can I have some tttea-powder?" I asked nervously not sure whether I was doing the right thing. I had just returned from my tour early in the morning at 7'o clock. I need my morning fix to charge me up and to shake off the soreness of travelling.

"Yes", she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

 I looked around the house. It was neat and clean. The bright curtain were drawn aside to make the room look bright. A huge sofa with printed upholstery was screaming for attention. A brightly metalled vase held some gaudy artificial flowers rested on the corner-piece next to the sofa. A traditional brass lamp with carved figurines holding small lamps was next to the window. This decor was not in accordance to my taste , I concluded.

I had rented the apartment in this building  6 months ago but in this half year I had not acquainted myself with any living soul and friendship was out of question.

My frequent travels out of the city and working late nights found very little time to socialise or even interact with the residents.Most of the females , I supposed , were housewives and the thought of a single working lady late-hours or travelling did not go well with them. I could feel the the distance in the uncomfortable cold stares at me. In Mumbai , the apartments are so irritatingly close to each other that the next door's family's woes can be heard without straining your ears. Yet neighbours are like aliens from outer space.

Why was she taking so much time to lend me two tablespoons of tea-powder?  I was getting a bit irritated. She entered the living room from the passage leading to the kitchen with a small tray in her hand.

"Drink this. You must be tired", handing me a mug of  hot tea. I took the first sip, cupping the mug with my palms encircled around it to feel the warmth as the hot liquid went down, warming up my gullet. I was basking in her warmth as I look up shyly from the mug . I could see her smiling, a mark of satisfaction of feeding a tired soul. "Thanks " I said as I kept the mug on the side table and awkwardly rose to take leave of her hospitality that I had intruded upon. She handed me the small cup with tea-powder, and said "Come whenever you feel like having tea and little hot gossip".And we both laughed in chorus. The ice was broken and a bond was established over hot tea. Now I can proudly say that I am no longer a stranger in my new building.

unsent letter


Google Image.

This is an unsent joint letter addressed to some strangers or rather a bunch of strangers who have left an indelible mark on me. I call them 'strangers' as  I try to strike a familiar chord with the tribe but am caught on the wrong foot. They manage to surprise , outwit and instill an awe in me.
Here are some of the choicest of them : 

To ,
Dear strangers.

              The auto/rikshaw drivers of Mumbai

The less said the better about them. The moment I see an empty three-wheeler, my heart misses a beat as any hunter armed with a gun/rifle would spot a prey in the jungle. With the wave of my hand, the mean machine comes to a screeching halt and upon being told of my destination , the driver turns his head in another direction and speeds off. Or the driver would prefer going in the opposite direction of my destination. And I will be left marooned and left with no other option , but to scout for its other brethren or use the services of public transport. Now my friends will know the reason of my being a Late-Latif.

                  The cashier of the grocery store :

All the cashiers behind the machine at the stores seem to have an intangible bond of enmity with me. When its my turn at the cash counter , I dump my heavy basket full of groceries on the table than the machine develops a technical snag or the paper roll plays a wicked prank and gets exhausted and I am made to wait for extra minutes stretching into eternity , while the other adjoining queues move with a hitch. Why me??? And I am left tearing my hair with desperation.

       The waiters at the restaurants and Udipi hotels. 

This breed refuses to take notice me as if I am an invisible person of H.G.Wells book. Or I do I have to swathe myself in bandages to be seen or heard for attention? The patrons on the neighbouring tables, who have arrived after me are well attended by smiling waiters while I am sipping water with hunger pangs threatening to be heard. I start coughing incessantly to vie for attention of the waiters but they are deaf to my outbursts while the neighbouring table patron stared wildly at me as if asking me to gulp down cough-syrup instead of Adam's ale.

                      The telephone network.

I curse my luck when I see people happily talking away on their hands-free ear-phones while my network refuses to connect . I will sue the  mobile Company whose tag-line screams "Wherever you go, our network follows'.

                        The internet service provider.

My service provider is very prompt when it comes to bill collection date on the 10th of every month whether the service is provided or not.

I ardently wish that these strangers get a bitter dose of their own medicine. 

Yours (ughh)faithfully
A harassed customer.

P.S. :This is a work of fiction and does not intend to hurt anybody's feelings.

Use these three words 'earphones, cough syrup and prank' very creatively in your post this weekend. Be a part of #WOW

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

Thursday, 22 August 2013

sense of smell.


Of the five senses gifted by God ,the sense to sniff and smell is universal. Every soul born on this earth is gifted and can use this sense without being taught or coached.
I remember my mom telling  me that I had a very sharp sense of smell. The molecules of air laden with a particular scent permeated through my nostrils and I would be the first to announce its exact nature and correctly so.

As a child , I distinctly remember the smell of wet mud on the onset of the first rains. Unlike my friends , I never enjoyed getting wet in the first downpour but felt heavenly on sniffing the fragrance of wet mud. It would percolate into my being and I felt one with Nature.

The aroma from my mom's kitchen sent my stomach into grinding overtime and I could feel the hunger pangs. The baking of the 'chappatis' on the hot tawa (girdle) , the simmering of the vegetables and daal (saaru in Kannada) were enough to awaken the foodie in me. The hot rice (anna) mixed with ghee was heavenly. The home-made nutritious food cooked with my mother's love and affection, awakened and heightened my sense of smell.
My mom says that tasty food is not cooked with ghee or 'masalas'(spices) but with ingredients of love on the fire of dedication and served on the plate of affection. How could I not be enriched just being in the vicinity of Mata Annaporna (Goddess of food).

The  small courtyard which was spread in front of our little house had a guava , 'jambhul' (blue-berry) and mango tree. Each one had  a distinct flavour during the ripening stage and I learnt in my own way to distinguish the smells even before tasting the fruits.

The road to my school had 'mogra' (jasmine) and 'parijat' . The rich fragrance of the jasmine and the subtle  hint of fragrance of the off-white petals and orange stems of parijat  imbued my poetic sense. My eyes and nose 'feasted' on the sight and smell.

My mother being a staunch devotee of Lord Shiva would make a visit to the temple on auspicious days and festivals. The fragrance of  the sandalwood paste , the burning the incense sticks mingled with the camphor smell felt divine and was sure that God is hearing to my prayers.

And as I grew up I had to travel by the local trains (the life-line of Mumbai) and I could guess correctly each station as the train approached with the smell emanating. 

And now I have a teen-aged son who had inherited the strong sense of smell as he, on coming from school , rightly guesses the food prepared by me on any particular day and I fill with happiness as life has come to full circle. What is life without these small little joys.

The various fragrances and some unpleasant smells or odours, which distinguishes the good from the bad, enriches our life to the fullest.

And I use Ambi Pur Aroma Therapy Lavender, 300 ml  pack to keep my house smelling fresh and fragrant.

Ambi Pur is an international air freshener brand from Spain. The product produces non-allergen scents and neutralizes unpleasant odour. The fragrance is unique and exotic and changes every few minutes proving with a different feel every minute.  The aroma refreshes the air and creates a comfortable atmosphere. 

This post is written for the contest on Indiblogger organized by AmbiPurIndia

Do visit their facebook page when you are here -