Terminal Illnesses...

The shimmer n the finesse on the surface of the glass has its own appeal. The tenacity is unquestionable as it depicts clarity, substance, magnificence, smoothness n originality. A clear glass sans abrasion is always in demand and attracts the eye even if it’s opaque, translucent, brittle or otherwise. Likewise, our health is the key to happiness. The effervescence of youth, vigor, vitality and spunk takes us places to an uninterrupted path of achievements. One feels like the king of the world as everything seems attainable with a little quest, luck and hard work. The cracked glass or the scratches it leaves on the surface lead to an ugly feeling which has no remedies. Terminal Illnesses creep in our lives slowly without warning. We ignore the minute signals which our body sends to us just like the visible scratches. Optimism pervades fortitude. An aching arm or knee, the sweet pain in the belly or head, the unease in the gait or muscle gains momentum without notice. The perpetual signs are ignored sometimes due to negligence, sometimes cause of lack of time and sometimes with no reason at all thus leading to further damage with no rectifications. Gradually the originality is replaced with artificial drugs which bring quick relief so as to resurface again. The scratches never leave us for once. The canvass of our lives is marred with that dark hue permanently. The illness soars to dizzy heights of remorse thus pushing the individual to the dungeons of ill health. The progress is slow which makes the individual weak, sorry and lifeless. Some fight it out with sheer determination n rest bite the dust.

The crack is a permanent fixture with no replacements. Terminal illnesses like glasses leave us with no choice. It remains till the time is up for its final exit. So why do we ignore the warning signs so complacently that’s the question? A stitch in time saves nine, it’s time we brush on our kindergarten anecdotes so as to save ourselves from further damage of a permanent scar of a terminal illness on our healthy lives .

Its Never Too Late ...

The daybreak brings with it fear rather than a whiff of fresh air. It’s the uncertainty which looms in the corridors of the minds of people whether they will be back safe and sound. Unknowingly there is an unsaid adieu to the house n family which is not understood always. A blank look, a silent prayer fills our soul when we step out of the house as people fall prey to the unannounced blasts which rock the country time and again. They are nothing but innocent victims who are unearthed from their routine of things brutally. Some succumb to injuries and some are scarred for life. They are mere pawns to the ire of irked souls . Every citizen has a right to move freely in their country placating fright, trepidation n dread. Who has given any person the right to play with the lives of thousands of people? Being a victim of injustice does not mean that we render the same to others so as to glorify our angst. A child has the right to weave his canvass of dreams with the colors of brotherhood, togetherness and bonding. Blasts and the massacres lead to strife, distrust, chaos, anger and ill will. A sense of revenge makes inroads and the mind finds ways to punish people who are responsible for such condemning acts of violence. In a way the automated effect of revenge n the anger it generates finds new bearings. It’s like a legacy which corrupts the system as well as mankind. On the name of religion, justice and one’s rights, violence replaces peace. Lack of education and direction in life makes the individual choose a path which brings doom to the religion & family. Life has a lot to offer. The sensibility of choosing the right path gives success and recognition in the right light. No mother teaches her new born to kill so as to prove a point. No religion dictates to take lives to seek justice.

Why are we befooling ourselves when we can chalk a life of achievements, mutual respect and good will? Violence, bloodshed and revenge never give rich dividends. The road of righteousness may be replete with struggle but it’s worth it. As then the conscience will not prick for the innocent lives one takes to justify his act. Corruption, injustice can be eradicated if all of us work towards it as a whole. Religion should not be a weapon but a bridge. Peace and a carefree milieu is all one yearns for so why not discard the evil and violent thoughts and embrace non violence for a better tomorrow.

Depths of Love...

The nails of our hands and feet grow even though we chop them off and on. No matter how hard one tries, they will grow back. The sight is phenomenal. It’s an unsaid commitment which dies only when one walks on the last journey of life called death. The decay is in full swing but as long as one is alive, there is no stopping. Likewise, love interspersed with selfless care, giving and unconditional approach grows to dizzy heights when fuelled and nurtured with purity of thought and action. It weathers the storms of life n stands the tests of time. Adieus, distance and disruptions not only makes the heart grow fonder but gives unbridled depths which one cannot fathom or gauge ever. When the nail cut a little deep , by mistake or sheer carelessness or with an uncared approach, it sends shivers down the spine leaving a tinge of pain. Fights, resentments, misdemeanor, conflict, betrayal and agony leaves an indelible mark but true love sustains the hurt and pain, forgives & forgets thus bouncing back with a new verve and spunk to take it to a another level of commitment and trust. Tender loving care becomes the spice of life. The myriad shades of sibling , parental , romantic n platonic love never ceases n is bound with a very delicate yet a strong thread of togetherness, bonding and belonging. It is ready to embark on new journeys of life and the intricacies it has to offer with a never say die attitude. It flows unrestraint as if a bottle has been uncorked. The ebb of emotion is deep like the sea n undecipherable.

Why can’t we take lessons from nature which forgives and forgets. New life is enthused with new avenues so that the milestones could be set. Just like the nail, it is mystic, deep rooted and never leaves us. Love is not a need but completes us same as the nail gives the beautiful look to our hands.

Instinct & Habit ...

It’s a peculiar trait of all and sundry to stack all the new crisp notes in an orderly fashion, pushing the crumpled, ugly looking ones in the extreme front. It ‘s instinct, they say to get rid of the smelly, over used notes. The masses as well as the classes follow the ritual religiously. For once the elite n the poor are brothers in arms. It leaves a fetid smell in the wallet and gives a sick feeling too. The note loses its sheen. Its originality goes for a toss. The numbers are not readable. It’s not at all authentic any more and is scrutinized many a times when given to a vendor. The tattered effect leaves a frown on the visage and many a times people refuse to accept it. It’s rejected and adds to the agony of the owner. It carries some value hence it is kept so as to be used when the need arises. Every day it’s a top priority to discard it. Hopes are dashed when it returns back to the wallet. Nobody likes to mar the beauty of the new notes aligned with a dirty one .So then why is it that we nurture and harbor the dark hideous thoughts in our mind which maligns the soul? It makes us the universal prisoner of our vacant self, pushing ourselves in the vicious cycle of treason, ill will, jealousy, hatred and deceit. In the bid to be successful and be on the top, the grey shades come to light. The person sleeps on ethics, team spirit, camaraderie thus giving impetus to individuality and self glorification.

Nobody likes to be ruled by the spell of dark, dirty n ill thoughts. The beauty is replaced with anguish and discomfort. The essence of life looses meaning and unknowingly we tread on a path which is lonely and insipid. Its time , we push away such thoughts forever same as we discard the smelly, ugly note on instinct.

An Unwelcome Visitor !

Serendipity , it’s a blessing in many ways. It’s a gratitude to god that good there are people who are not only setting an example but also are fighters even if the odds are against them. Everyday , at sharp 1pm the doorbell buzzes. Its in a way a reminder that lesser mortals too can teach us - the elite with their ways. Deprived of education, wealth, comforts, food and hygiene there is still a lot of hope. Perseverance, patience n practicality is their forte. The garbage collectors, pick the litter of our house without batting an eyelid on a regular basis. Either they have become immune to the smells of the garbage or they have resigned to their fate. It’s a hapless surrender of dreams, aspirations n possibilities. People open the door, don’t even exchange a word or two, give the waste and simply shut the door. The flats of delhi, in various localities avail such services. Its ironical, we use things, dump them in the dustbin and then the things which are used by us is picked by a stranger who is actually not a stranger anymore but a regular visitor. A visitor, who is stoic, is welcomed n yet not welcomed. Welcomed to collect our dump only. Sounds interesting isn’t it. ?

How many of us ask them while they wait for the bin to be emptied, whether they need a glass of water? Don’t we ask our guests the same when they travel from their houses so as to entertain themselves and us. The house is spic and span only because the litter is already given to people who are a little less fortunate but sure are earning themselves bread rather than begging or stealing. Time we should show some respect towards them and treat them like a human being rather than a doormat.

Insensitive Calls...

Its elation woven with a feeling of being wanted when one receives a call during the darkest hour. The caller is in a way a blessing in disguise as he is nothing but a cloud with a silver lining. The sudden surge of emotion is replete with possibilities and optimism. One thanks the being of that person in their lives. The call stretches to more than five minutes which etches a picture of bonding, togetherness, love and concern. Within minutes the bubble of illusion bursts and the call ends with a one line “I gotta go, something came up”. Was it actually a love driven concerned call or someone was killing their time? Why do we do it that’s a mystery? Is it a deliberate move of taking people for granted? Don’t we feel cheated when on the receiving end of such calls In spite of it we keep doing it out of habit?

It’s time we seize it and earn some respect from people who are there at our troubled times and are ready to lend an ear at the oddest hour even though they know that they are being used emotionally.

Insecurity ...

Why do people use people for their personal gains? Are they insecure of their own credibility or they simply under estimating their own potential? Or they simply have given up on themselves? Is it worth a chase? Why not, all efforts don’t turn futile. Putting a muzzle on the other person’s laborious hours by hogging the limelight under one’s name is condemning. They win laurels n praises on the ashes of the people who deserve it. The burial of such a kind is over whelming. It crushes the beauty of creativity, anger and frustration replicates the hub of glorious thought process.

It’s a question to those who steal the limelight of the unsung heroes – Are they able to look themselves in the mirror with a heart of content and achievement before they hit the bed in the night?

Temporary Relationships ...

Temporary relationships are like rented apartments. One moves in with a lot of hope, anticipation, anxiety, zeal and vigour. A feeling of starting afresh replicates the monotony of life. New beginnings paint a new picture on the canvass of life. The colorful hue is a mix of ambivalence n optimism. The investment of emotions is pragmatic with a tinge of senstivity.A sense of familiarity, belonging and bonding finds its roots. Its like giving a conscious facelift to the sore wounds. Fresh experiences, memories, milestones head towards newer destinations. Just that as soon as the lease comes to an end, one has to vacate and leave with no strings attached. Its like putting a muzzle on things which once held some importance in our lives. Gradually the ritualistic scheme of things chalks a new path of indifference which regurgitates the soul with nostalgia time n again.

An afterthought ...

God loves the colorful rainbow as much as the labouring seas. So why is it , the people born with a silver spoon are coveted by the society. For some, its a constant struggle and for the priveledged few, its a life of luxury and lifestyle. The inheritance of such a lineage is darted with a monologue - ' What has one achieved on one's own merit and name ?' Ain't being a bearer of good character an achievement in itself ? How many of us can boast of a life sans dishonesty, contempt, manipulation when in a corporate life ? Politics doing rounds in the official periphery maligns the soul. The nouveau rich eke out and tempt the jealous entities. Is there any end to such trivialities and speculation ?

An Appeal ...

Human nature craves for abundance, majority and well being be it any field. The bliss is insurmountable when followers of a particular religion or community throng at their places of worship and seek the blessings of god in unison. Its a melange of brotherhood, holiness and spirituality. The same set of people are ready to shed blood if the religion is questioned or is under threat. All are ready to sacrifice themselves to save the purity of their sacred books. We come together as one to protect our religion n its beliefs . But then why is it that we are immune to the needs of the person who is under the spell of extreme poverty and dire consequences.Its a question to every Muslim, Hindu and Christian who are the citizens of India , have you ever seen a Sikh begging on the road, railway station, airport, hospitals and bus stops? They take up any job as worship and do it with pride but will never beg. Each will help the other as if they are one's own family. Lesser in number but they are the torchbearers of a trend which not only reap rich benefits but is also working towards the development and betterment of the society and continent as a whole. Its time every individual should follow suit, are there any takers ?

A Letter to the Terrorist...

It just takes a second to disturb the peace and normalcy of calm environs. An explosion and terror replaces the serenity. Chaos mingled with fortitude is a common sight. Ripped bodies, oodles of blood , fire , burns is a part of the devastation. The fear is double folds. Its nothing but exhileration for the one who carried out the operation. Does he feel like god who is omnipresent, and can cause destruction at the blink of an eye ? The only difference is that they own up to media with pride that they are the torch bearers of the havoc. All this to gain popularity and a showoff that they are the controllers of the lives of thousands of people. Self glorification under the garb of vicious mindset. Violence at its best. A question to such acts of ferocity is-do they have a sound sleep after taking so many lives.? Is their ever remorse ? A sense of guilt or regret ? Are they able to look themselves in the eye when facing a mirror? What are they trying to prove this is yet unknown as explosions are a common sight be it any part of the world. It does not stop it all there as people who carry out the operation are used by the master to give a filip to their heinous plans.Its an ongoing process just that the time and place is different each time. When will this all stop to a more carefree environment where there will be no terror, devastation , bloodshed and fury but only peace, calm waters , tranquility and brotherhood.

A Wake-Up call...

Its a common sight these days to see the maids tagging along in busy shopping malls or eating joints . They are hired full time so that they take care of the toddlers while the proud parents have no hindrance in their revelry. Its a self proclaimed elevation that it is an aid to lift the masses from the dungeons of penury. A garb or farce called employment for the weaker sections of the society. The caretaker is a hapless entity yet a fashion statement. The perks are not always gratifying. Mostly these people are seen standing outside restaurants or multiplexes calming the harried monotones of a crying baby. The maids feed , change the nappies, wash n bathe n even take them out for walks in the evening. The only difference is that they do every possible thing but cannot ever be called their biological mother. What a pity. Its a collective response when asked from the elite that they were the sole bearers in bringing up their child... Excuse me .. have we not set contradictory examples ourselves. Then why is it a problem that the child when in the hours of distress calls out the maid more than the respective parents. Why does one feel they are stung by a serpent then ? Have we not escalated our duties full throttle . Motherhood is a beautiful phase in any woman's life so why not give our best shot to our own blood who are nohing but pleasurable labours of love.

Bluelines of Delhi ...

For a moment it seems they are nothing but fat snakes crawling on the road with their listless approach, loaded with unfamiliar faces who are bustling with the ritualistic innuendos.They are dangerous yet appealing for our pockets. Bluelines or the CNG as they are so lovingly called is a life saver for many. The buses in other words are the best example of a furnace in motion. People risk their lives knowingly so as to reach their destinations economically. Sweaty bodies, stench , odor , commotion, is a common sight. The seats for the women are blissfully occupied by the men. For once its a visual treat as the male chauvinism is at bay. The harried commuters don't mind when in the middle of nowhere the driver decides that gas has to be refilled, for which all have to get down. All obey religiously without much ado. In a way its a meek whimper to relaod yourself on those life threatening locomotives for a more progressive danger for the coming moments. The bonnet of the engine is nothing but a sofa without a backrest. Lady commuters dump themselves on it so as to breathe a sigh of relief. It is a culpable offence. Any sight of an inspector and the tables turn, the driver shouts to get up so as to save himself from the clutches of the repurcussions if seen flouting the norms. The driver latches his seat belt , wears his shirt and sits upright. No one raises an alarm or checks him for it , as soon as the check point is half a mile away , the driver is back to his bohemian self and the commuters too take their seat out of habit.

So then why is it that we react only when the same buses kill one of our near n dear ones? Why are we meek spectators n the slaves of the system ? When will we put our foot down for things which are forced on us, the citizens to follow ?

the Taj Mahal ...

Voila the grandiosity simply grips you. Its an epitome of love they say . It speaks volumes about the years gone by for making it a magnificent piece of art and grandeur. More than the labourers its the man behind it all who is idolised and worshipped and why not as it was his idea to build it in the memory of his wife. The mason, sculptors and labourers were mere helpers to bring his vision to life by buidling it to such perfection.Its an inspiration for many. No matter what the people do for their loved ones they will feel small when compared to what Shajehan did for Mumtaz Mahal by creating the Taj Mahal.

Only wish there was a mention of the names of those people who erected such a phenomenal work of art. A little placard having a list of those thousands of people who made it what it is today. Can we ever locate those experts ? Its a pity we can't. Kudos to them for all it is now. They sure deserve the credit. People come in bulk to have a glimpse of it throughout the year. They walk barefoot on the hot marble to feel the experience of being inside the monument. In summers it burns n in winters it seems as if we are walking on frozen ice. What a contrast of extremes. Are the people driven by love or curiosity thats the question. It drives them to love with a new outlook and possibilities or makes them materialistic that can never be guaged. The calmness and serenity serenades in the milieu. People throng to click pictures with elation in a place which is nothing but a grave of two lovers. Their are voices all over the place which kills the essence of the emotion which can be just felt and revered .

Why is it till date that money and name is given precedence over creativity ?

Death of a loved one ...

Within minutes daybreak had transformed into dusk. It seemed the clouds were to decant to surfeit. It foretold innocently that torrential rain would be the visage of the day. The door was ajar when the wild gusts of wind brought with it droplets of water. The downpour mingled with the fragrance of the wet earth was caressing the soul. The doors n windows were banging in a staccato. Was it an imprint of God’s wrath or an expression of my state , its hard to tell.

The Nocturnal Trespasser !

Its a ritual, like it or not, to lock doors as the day inches out completely from our lives. The Night has its own charm as the chaos and labor of the day aspires for tranquility and undisturbed sleep. For the occupant it’s nothing but a pleasurable house arrest. We shun the world so that a good sleep could help refurbish ourselves completely for the following day. I was no different and had hit the bed early like a Good Samaritan of the world. It was not a feeling of captivity but being safe in one's own confines. It was a realization that for the day everything has been called off- nagging maids, visitors, house calls and the works. I had restricted the intake of water on purpose so that a nature call could be best avoided. But nature had its course and in the wee hours of the night, with a lot of fuss I headed towards my hub of privacy. Careless and groggy as I was I had never thought that there'd be a visitor in the dead of night who would be also a bare witness to my naked self. It was nothing but a trespass though of a different kind. I was not only seething with anger but was scared too. I saw a one and a half feet brownish orange colored snake against the wall near the door. It seems when I had opened the door of the bathroom to get in; it slid along with the door and was brushed against the wall. As always I had bolted the door without knowing what’s in store. Out of habit, my eyes were resting on the floor and accidentally I saw the wall near the door and I froze. My guest was lying still. I had to act fast yet be listless n silent. By the look of it, it seemed it was finding a way to go out. It had been raining incessantly since the past couple of days and it seems my uninvited visitor sought refuge in the sewer to save him from the tumultuous rains. I had to muster up courage and cross the snake again, this time knowing about his presence. A snake is a snake whether it’s poisonous or not. I crept towards it, with fear and anticipation though at the same time allured by its mere charm. It was thin yet beguiling, fearful yet submissive. For a moment I thought it was dead as there was no movement since the time I had laid my eyes on it. There was a sense of relief and remorse both. Within seconds it proved me wrong and tilted its head towards me. We had a brief look at each other and it forced me to take my steps backwards. It moved towards the sewer hole that was right next to me. Who had ever thought that I would have to leap on the sink to give him the way? As it crawled I marveled at his gait. It was unique and arresting. Slowly it moved down the sewer hole and never looked back.

I was numb and gaping. I was so close to danger but nothing happened. Was it a way to tell me that even if we lock our doors we can still have some visitors? They are dangerous but they too like human beings can have a conversation. They can make their presence felt when we least expect it. Or was it God teaching me how to combat fear. Since this incident I am more alert, courageous and receptive to what life has to offer.

Orkut ..

My day had started early that august last year. A childhood friend of my aunt was to pay a visit for lunch. The room was replete with her voice and the tone was ecstatic, nostalgic and energized. I was a patient listener to the incidents, which had occurred eons ago in her life, but while she was walking down memory lane, it seemed as if, it was just yesterday. I was giving her a helping hand to set up things according to her hearts wish, though deep down I was secretly missing my childhood friends. Without her noticing it, I sauntered in the valley of my thoughts, which brought me face to face with the life gone by. It was an era of impressionable minds, innocence and vulnerability. The kindergarten years held that same lucid freshness which allured the soul completely. Fifteen years had elapsed n I had lost contact as my life progressed to new thresholds. It was not deliberate but it just happened.


I was waiting to get free so as to log on to the net and access orkut.com. The site was becoming popular day by day but it failed to spark any interest until this unexpected visit. It inculcated a new ardor and longing to get in touch with my friends and batch mates who had played a very vital role while I was maturing into an adult. When finally time was on me that day, I got listed at Orkut.. It sure proved to be a blessing in disguise. Just a click, and the years gone by, the memories, which were fading away with time, reverberated with a new zeal n vigour. The familiar faces illuminated with a fresh streak of belonging and camaraderie. I trudged each memory with alacrity n brilliance as each name reminded me of something or the other. Some names and faces reminded me of a last conversation, a moment, a farewell, fun filled adventure, playground tricks or a naughty yet healthy deed.. It was a raw emotion which brought a smile effortlessly..


Quite a lot of things have changed in my life and there’s but there is a common thread, which binds us all still. If it had not been for Orkut i would have never been able to get in touch with them . My friends were all over the globe, practically it was not possible to meet everyone over coffee and pour one's hearts content but because of Orkut they are either a call or scrap away. All these years of taciturnity is a far cry now. Each passing day is weaving a new experience, a new memory that will be revered and cherished with elation and content. Hats off to Orkut for coloring my world with a colorful hue of bonding and friendship, which will last forever since its inception in my life.

Get Real

It seems like everyone who breathes oxygen is on the web trying to satiate his or her pent up emotions. It’s in vogue to play in the dark. One finds solace in getting himself heard. A patient listener is always welcome when the grub of life leaves him sour n sordid. Dating sites and chat sites emerge as a boon as they give wings to fantasy. Life when met face down makes way for a illusory yet fulfilling acquaintance which multiplies into a different concept when fuelled with tender loving care. There are no strings attached, as it’s a medium where myriad shades of one’s personality see light of day. A face-to-face tet-e- tat might not get the desired results as it takes a lot of courage to call a spade a spade. One has the liberty to camouflage them into whatever suits them best. The raw emotion, which somehow gets lost in the grind of life, comes to the forefront. It is meticulous, uninhibited and has no hesitations. It leaves the individual in a trance, which pushes the realities of life to a remote corner.
This alliance happens to fit the bill in spite of the odds. Body odor or the beauty of facial expressions takes a back seat. You never know that the guy when typing might be also digging’ his nose, has left the hand unattended and continue to chat with you. What matters most is availability. Stressful jobs and long hours in the office paralyse the person so much that the web becomes a happening den of activity and thought sharing. Infidelity bounces back with new verve and vigor. It’s all in the garb of friendship. The pure emotion is replicated into something dark and hideous. Unspoken thoughts get an expression and a new world spins a yarn of its own. This world is full of new beginnings, uncarpeted territories of bliss and belonging. It elevates the soul and makes one feel wanted. For some it’s a time pass and for the other an escapade from their monotonous life. So to say the saying’ of a famous economist that man is a social animal finds new bearings. It is an upsurge of whims and a sabbatical of duties. A mirage, which leads people to constant discovery of, unraveled emotions and destinations.
Its good to interact with people but when done with honesty it soothes the soul and does not lead to guilt. It’s always easy to say things when not face-to-face and a mail or chat gives us an opening to hurt a person unawares. It acts as a shield and one takes the other for granted. Somehow when it becomes a habit that’s when hell breaks loose. The privacy when questioned takes an ugly turn.
Life has so much to offer. Expressions alone can weave magic. Sense of touch can speak volumes. When will we take notice of our capabilities and come out in the open. Insecurities and limitations, which is one’s own creation, cramp the growth and capacity of oneself. We just have to realize them. And break that shell which makes us a slave of our prejudices. Its so comforting to interact when hidden as one gets that kick no one is being judgmental about looks, mannerisms and habits. In a way we are playing with ourselves by living a life of someone who is nothing but fake. Its time we realize our worth and face life head on, without pretences and lies but with optimism and zeal. No point in taking refuge in misleading talks and living in a shell. Get alive and get going. Reach out and embrace life.