Saturday, 30 August 2014


Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

Start a blogpost with “Hello ______, my old friend.” and then let it just flow.

"Hello God, my old friend"

Loneliness is a constant companion that refuses to desert me even though I am surrounded by my loved ones.

I beckon you in the dead of night and you never fail to appear as a faceless person and your soothing voice calms my frayed nerves. "How long, God, do I have to endure this agony?"

"You are still on the waiting list , my child."

"Do I have a purpose to live?"

"Every being is born with a  purpose, my child".

"Are humans a mere puppet in your hands, God?"

"I have moulded each clay figure with my bare hands and breathed life into them. All are my babies, my child"

"If everything is pre-destined , do my wishes have any effect on you?"

"Amen , I say sometimes. "

"Is death and birth of a human pre-ordained?"

"The span between these two have to be measured in deeds not in years, my child."

"One more question, God."

I feel you smiling on me.

"God, when will I die?"

"My child , this body of yours is a living temple. After the soul departs to take refuge in another being ,  re-cycle to help fellow-beings. This is ultimate salvation"

The divine aura merges with nothingness and I am left all alone with myself until dawn.

I feel the warm caress of her hand on me. I smile and she reciprocates with a radiant curve on her face. 

The papers are ready and I give my consent.

I look up and a divine hand is stretching towards me. I nod and get ready to the journey to the Gates of Heaven through wafting clouds and peace descends on me.

"Do not look back my child. " 

And I obey.


The headlines in the newspaper read : Organ donation is on the rise.............................

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

Thursday, 7 August 2014

A friendly ghost

                                                    Light and Shade Challenge

Photo by Thomas Marlowe

“Some ghosts are so quiet you would hardly know they were there.” 

                       An unwritten rule was etched in every-body's mind. 

The innocent looking tree bearing evergreen leaves, gently swaying to the melody of the breeze could  be sinister , I doubted. But my questions were repelled by a stern warning ,  "Do not go near THAT tree"  . But curiosity won and I ventured close to the tree. I stopped in my tracks . "Not this way" was boldly written on the tree trunk. 

 I  bravely took two steps  closer to the tree. The brown bark was flaked and red ants were seen scurrying in and out of the cracked layers. Touching the bark of the tree with my fingers sent a wave of shiver throughout my taut body. But I noticed nothing unusual. I circled the giant tree and froze suddenly when a figure stood in front of me.  No words escaped from my mouth nor a muscle moved. He bent down and sat on the ground. My eyes met his wrinkled blue ones. He smiled . I barely managed to move my lips.

"Hello young girl"

"Hii", I managed to blurt out. 

Gathering courage , I asked ,"Who are you?"

"I am ............" 

The lawns on the other side of  THAT tree were well laid out and manicured. The rose plants were watered and roses bloomed on them.

Pointing out to the writing on the tree, I asked him "Why have you written this?"

"To keep intruders at bay. And you are a lovely young girl." Answered he with a twinkle in his eyes. I giggled.

It was dark when I came home.The table was laid out with hot tea and cakes. Sinking my teeth into the chocolate cake ,  I asked my grandmother whether anyone lived in that old house beyond THAT tree.

Grandmother said she didn't remember anyone staying there except a gardener who lived and died in the old house.

 "Was his name Joseph, Grandma", I  asked as I bit my lower lip.

"How do you know , little Peggy?", a stern voice came.

Ï guessed it , grandma", said I pacifying her.

               I had made a pact with Joseph that the secret remained between us.

“Some ghosts are so quiet you would hardly know they were there.” 

Written for Light and Shade Challenge where one could make use of the photo or the quote or both and I have combined both. 


Wednesday, 6 August 2014


Write Tribe has asked its readers to write down 5 things on their wishlist.

Small desires lurk in the recesses of the mind are afraid or shy to come to the fore-front. But harbouring wishes has been man's nature from times immemorial and  while the bolder ones turned them into reality while other languish for want of action.

I read Preeti Shenoy's , 'The Secret Wish List,' where the protagonist Diksha writes down her secret wishlist and slowly she ticks them off to turn them into reality.

                                                             The Secret Wish List

My to-do-list includes simple or one may label them as banal wishes. But I have to put forward my first step towards converting them into reality.

Sweet-tooth : My mother says that it the mind that controls the tongue's urge. Like a true connoisseur I cannot distinguish between sweets and I do justice to all of them by consuming them and  pile up kilograms and wrongly rest the blame on the weighing machine.

Knock off kilograms  to feel lighter :  In my early twenties , I was slim and trim, zipping from one platform to another to board a Mumbai local train. Alas ! I cannot do it now without panting. The joints have to bear the brunt. Even though my health parameters B.P. , blood-sugar reading , cholesterol ( in layman's language) are all normal I wish to shed off the extra baggage.

Anger management :  “When I am angry, my whole mind becomes a huge wave of anger. I feel it, see it, handle it, can easily manipulate it, can fight with it; but I shall not succeed perfectly in the fight until I can get down below to its causes", said the wise Swami Vivekanand. 

                                            Photo: Swami Vivekananda on ANGER 

“When I am angry, my whole mind becomes a huge wave of anger. I feel it, see it, handle it, can easily manipulate it, can fight with it; but I shall not succeed perfectly in the fight until I can get down below to its causes. A man says something very harsh to me, and I begin to feel that I am getting heated, and he goes on till I am perfectly angry and forget myself, identify myself with anger. When he first began to abuse me, I thought, “I am going to be angry”. Anger was one thing, and I was another; but when I became angry, I was anger. These feelings have to be controlled in the germ, the root, in their fine forms, before even we have become conscious that they are acting on us. With the vast majority of mankind the fine states of these passions are not even known – the states in which they emerge from sub consciousness. When a bubble is rising from the bottom of the lake, we do not see it, nor even when it has nearly come to the surface; it is only when it bursts and makes a ripple that we know it is there. We shall only be successful in grappling with the waves when we can get hold of them in their fine causes, and until you can get hold of them, and subdue them before they become gross, there is no hope of conquering any passion perfectly. To control our passions we have to control them at their very roots; then alone shall we be able to burn out their very seeds. As fried seeds thrown into the ground will never come up, so these passions will never arise.”

Red colour is associated with anger and danger . I wish to tame the demon and emerge triumphant.

Visit the historical rich city of Rome : Julius Ceaser , the name conjures images of Rome . In Rome do as the Romans.........goes the popular saying.

I wish to lose myself into the historical maze of Rome and soak into the local flavour of the atmosphere and marvel at the ancient Roman engineering and architecture. I wish to lift my gaze at the Colosseum and be at the centre of the largest amphitheatre of the world. 

Residing in the hearts of all my near and dear ones : Remembering me on all my birthdays and wedding anniversary is the FaceBook's prerogative. but I would love to be loved and remembered by my people as a good human being and a genuine friend. Am I asking too much?

Reams and reams can be written on this topic but I would not be in favour of boring you.  
                         So tell me readers, about your wish-list. 

                            Written for : Write Tribe Pro Blogger 

Click HERE to read the lovely blogs of my co-bloggers.

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

colour me , white.

  1. Welcome Write Tribe Pro Blogger
  1. Write Tribe has asked me to choose my  favorite color and pick a few things in that color and click photos. Blog about them.
  2.  An interesting prompt.

"Mr. Frog  Mr Frog , can we cross the golden river?"
"Not until you have the  c o l o u r ....................   . The game that we played in childhood introduced us to all colours . Purple , indigo , navy blue , sky blue, amber green , mauve ...........and the list is endless. But of a wide array of  colours, my  favourite colour has always been WHITE. My neighbour, Sudha  calls me shwetambara ( one who wears white). I do have all other colours in my wardrobe but my penchant for white overrides all colours.

Renowned painter , M.F.Hussain once took a blank  canvas and with the strokes of his brush painted it white. He named it 'Shwetambara' . 

Passing through the 'chikan'' shop in Crawford Market, Mumbai , my eyes feasted on this white pristine cotton kurta in the glass display of the shop. I entered the shop and the kurta now finds a place in my wardrobe. I team this kurta with denim jeans or a printed dhoti salwar.  After washing it , I starch it and hang it on the cloth-line to dry it. The crisp ironed kurta is like my second skin. 

The fresh chill air of Gangtok, Sikkim was a refreshing change from the Mumbai sultry weather and we were indulging in our favourite acitivity : shopping.  This pair of white  nude twins caught my attention and I picked them up. The ceramic feel of the nude figures made my mind to possess them. I asked the shopkeeper to pack them up. They now are a pride in my glass display of my living room. The nude baby boys  are full of innocence and without inhibitions. The small patch  of black hair on the head breaks the monotony of the white colour and enhances the cuteness quotient .

Paying respects to the reigning deity of Sharanbasaveshwar of Gulburga, Karnataka was divine. The 'jaatri' or the fair attracts attention and I was one of the innumerable devotees to walk past the stalls showcasing the bric-a-bac, earthen pottery , wooden items etc. The stall of imitation jewellery arrested the pace of my brisk walk and my feet found their way into the stall selling colourful bangles. The red, green, maroon with a slight hint of gold colour added to the beauty of the glass bangles. But a pair of white bangles won my heart and after bargaining , the bangles adorned my wrists. I love these bangles .

The white double strand pearl neck-piece and the pearl bangle were purchased by me on my trip to Port Blair , the  Andaman Islands in  the Bay of Bengal.  The azure , clear and deep waters of the Andamans are a tourist's delight. The shoal of colourful fishes swimming can be seen through the transparent waters.

                                         Errors like straw  float on water.

                              He who searches for pearls must dive below.

White is my most loved colour. But I prefer jet black hair!  The seven colours of the rainbow bring joy to the beholder. The rich colours of the Kanjeevaram sari and  Baandhani sari are a sight to behold.  Reader, let me know the colour of your dream?

                                      Written for Write Tribe Pro Blogger

Sunday, 3 August 2014

and it rained that night


Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

Include this line in your post: ‘…And it rained that night’

Whole six yards of charm
draped in her eyes, so warm
the moon in its youthful crescent
The parijat wooing , fragrant scent
breeze dancing with anklets
caressed her jasmine braided plaits.

As she spread her arms
unafraid , unfazed of lurking harms
gaze upward
smiling coy , twinkling stars toward.

Black clouds battle in the yard
with swords out òf scabbard
unleash lightning and thunder
the young bride watches yonder

Maiden fair parts her lips bright
And it rained that  night
inhaling the musk of petrichor
she gleefully asks for more.

Her man amused watch
cajoles him to match
her step and  gait
his arms hug her waist

closeness encircles
passion tickles
youthful  night consummates
Earth's thirst satiates

And it rained that night
A lady and her Knight
began their journey bright.


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

Click HERE to read wonderful WOW posts.

Also Written for : Write Tribe Pro Blogger 

Click HERE to read the lovely blogs of my co-bloggers.


Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time

Include this line in your post: ‘…And it rained that night’

The big droplets hurled themselves incessantly on the window panes making a rattling sound which awoke Dhoniba  from his sleep.  The roof of his house seems to be weighed down by the pouring rain. He got up to quench his thirst. Looking out of his window into the darkness , he could see nothing but could feel the intensity of Ma Varsha pounding on the ground as if she were unleashing her ire on the village. Hope the rains take a respite , sighs Dondiba in his early forties and drifts back to sleep on his humble charpoy. 

The rains did not take a moment's rest     ......And it rained that night.            

And it rained that night as if there were no tomorrow. 

The sun rose the next day albeit behind a thick veil of black gloomy clouds reflecting the His state of mind or the prognosis about to take place.

The kittens in Dhondiba's house  were restless, mewing . Dhondiba thought that the kittens were scared and he shifted them to a large basket kept underneath his charpoy. He too nestled himself snugly underneath the charpoy to pacify the little beings. Folk lore says that animals have a  pulse on Nature and can feel the vibrations of an impending disaster . Dondiba stroked the feline fur gently. 

Some people waiting for the state transport bus to arrive had taken refuge in a nearby ancient temple as the rains continued unabated.

The bus did not arrive for it could not find its way. The hill cascaded down with its massive body bringing down mud and boulders. The hill was flattened burying the village in its womb.

Rescue workers and the State machinery swung into action under hostile conditions extricating people most of them having breath their last.

The rescue team hearing a faint groaning sound alternating with mews under the debris began to work cautiously. Dondibai was pulled out in a state of shock . More shocking news awaited as he recovered in the Primary Health Centre in a nearby town. He had lost everything , his house and his family.

Who is to be blamed for the tragedy of Malin village, which has ceased to exist? Deforestation , rampant quarrying ,  terraced farming on hill slopes disrobing of Nature or issuing of permits flouting environmental norms or a combination of all?

The common man of the village is the most distressed and affected lot.

Ďondiba may start his life on a new note but can he forget the horrors that unleashed on the day it rained?

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

bond of friendship

Write Tribe
WRITE TRIBE'S  100 Words on Saturday prompt:
my grandmother/grandfather said…
Today I witnessed a deluge of friendship quotes on FB and Whatsapp.
These quotes paled in comparison to what my grandmother said about the bond of friendship between Krishna and Sudama which was unique and worth emulating.

Poor but self-respecting Sudama did not ask for help but Krishna judged his restlessness and extended help without hurting his pride. 

The unsaid communication between the two childhood pals of different strata of the society forms the crux of their relationship.

Digressing from the topic my grandmother had mentioned that friendship is a journey that started at school and continued till grave. Amen.
                                          For :  Write Tribe


Saturday, 2 August 2014

ground realities.

                                       PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

                                                                        PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

As she looked out of the window, trying to withhold the flood of tears, she choked.

I am no doormat, she screamed silently.

On her way to the airport to Leh, when the SUV navigated sharp hairpin bends, the white mountains intimidated her by their magnitude.

The snow-clad lofty mountains interspersed with their brown garb looked like small tents dispersed around from above.

It’s so absurd, thought she to think of breaking the bonds of their union. It takes two to tango.

The ground realities were not so harsh.

She was not cold as the mountains. After-all, human is she.

                   Thank you  Rochelle for the lovely photo prompt.

word count : 100 

                                               Friday Fictioneers Rules.




Five Sentence Fiction – Secure

As her little feet touched the ground, she  thrust her closed fist into his large palm as they walked towards the king-sized pool.

Katherine looked  uncomfortably at the still water reflecting the bright clouds as she hid her fears that would be mirrored in her blue innocent eyes.

He lowered Katherine  into the water  and when her body hit the cool  surface , she felt her confidence buoy with the ripples. 

She conquered the pool and her fears, too , as she felt secure with her Olympic winner coach , her father.

She saw in her father's eyes , her reflection and his dreams taking shape of a bright future and she vowed to fulfil them.


                                              For :  Five Sentence Fiction

                                             For :   Write Tribe Pro-blogger

My greatest fear. Read here

Friday, 1 August 2014


                                 Today is the first day of the Blog Carnival .

                             what would you do if you weren't afraid

Darr, ke aage jeet hai..............goes an advertisement endorsing a popular drink. But fear cannot be gulped down the throat and dive into the deepest oceans.

Yes reader, you guessed it right. Water, lake, ocean fills my mind with fear and the very sight of a vast water body numbs my senses and my throat feels dry with fear. In childhood my friends took to water as born swimmers while I remained in the background to hear them discuss interesting anecdotes of the underworld. I would console my troubled mind saying that I would join them a year later. 

                                      But tomorrow never comes.

Childhood gave to adolescence  and priorities such as studies , classes college took precedence. Adulthood graduated to more serious affair like job , career , matrimony. But the reluctance to take to the water have remained on my mind. More than the reluctance is the fear that pulls me two steps backwards. But I have resolved firmly to take two steps backwards and go for a dive, not literally but work towards warding off my fear. I wish to shed the cloak of fear and don a swim-dress and be friends with water. I wish to swim with a colourful shoal of fishes and sail between them. Scuba-diving in the  azure Andaman waters to explore the unexplored underworld realm. The white surf of Rishikesh  river beckons me to try rafting in its rough, wild waters. My spirit would be at peace to take a dip in the holy gigantic Ganges and wash off my fears. 

Water , an elixir of life
quenches the parched
Earth and throat.

Water , an elixir of life
Alas! many lose their loved
to a watery grave.

Water , boon or bane
flood or famine
we all need water.

The unfortunate tragedy of the Andhra students whose precious lives were nipped in the bud by the rising waters of the Beas in  Himachal Pradesh is fresh in everybody's mind. The newspapers are filled with such tragedies when the swelling waves swallow human lives. Expert swimmers do have to bow to the power of water. Despite the dangers , fishermen community , weighing the risks but keeping fear at bay  , continue to venture deep into the seas, undaunted,  to earn a livelihood and feed the deepest catch from the oceans. The coastguards and the Indian Navy should be saluted for their tireless work.  

Readers , I wish to conquer my hydrophobia. Do share your fears...............

         Written for WRITE TRIBE PRO BLOGGER in response to the  prompt 

                             What would you do if you weren't afraid?

                                                      Write Tribe