Month: November 2015

Not a retreat…….

It is sometimes very difficult to say anything. The magnanimity of destiny and events that unfold in the course of life, the questions, leave you numb. It takes one second for life to either run faster than its normal pace or to stop and become stagnant. You then have a choice to make; whether to wait patiently to see what is next or to strive endlessly, everyday, to make the best of what you have.


“Do not let me take a retreat

And go back again,

I have nurtured every breath;

and wished every wish.

I have been as far as the horizon

Beyond my vision.


Do not let me take a retreat

From being fancied by the moon,

That grows every night;

The stars that carry so many secrets.

I have been as far as the stretch of the sky

Beyond my beliefs.


No, I will not take a retreat

It is a full circle

Where I start again;

Let go of old dreams

Harness and cherish new ones

And get drenched in the rain.”



Here is a soundtrack that enters the soul’s realm as I heal, day by day, second by second.



The healing has begun, of the lungs as well as that of the mind. No blames and no regrets. The outpour of concern and care leaves me stooped and bent low, I could never give back what comes to me in manifold ways.

Give me a dream

In these eyes,

Smudged with kohl

As you ascend higher,

My sleepy birdie………


Give me wings

And let my fancy fly

Give me your flight

And guide my ascent high


I have oft wondered

About the light

That shines through your being

Is it the wonder

Above the clouds that you have seen?


Give me the light,

That beckons thee forth

Enthuse me with wonders

Lest I rest and recoil within.


Give me a dream,

That I can live,

A birdhouse maybe…..

Tell me,

Would you let me in?



I cannot title this one…..

It’s been long…….very long, since words have even touched the periphery of my mind. I have been through a devastating road accident about ten days back. Having been into the pain, I see suffering on the faces of people around me, which is much more than the pain my damaged ribs give me. I have a dislocated left shoulder and fractured ribs that have damaged my lungs to some extent. The night of the accident still traumatizes me and thus this late night writing.

I am coming out of it…….and I know this because I can now write about it. Nights of endless pain; fear that if I close my eyes I could even die rattles my very being, but I am alive, very much alive, can breathe albeit in  a little laboured fashion, I feel blessed. It is only today that I feel so. When I think of the hapless situation in which I was when i was thrown out of my car, and groaned endlessly lying at the mercy of any help that could come by, I feel blessed.

I cannot write more, my back pains…….an excruciating pain, that does not let me sleep. Yet, I feel blessed that in a few months I shall be fine. I wish to say a lot, about the dark hole I have been into; it still engulfs me, yet, today I am elevated, not from the physical pain, but from the distress my soul has been into……….


“It is not my doing

And I stand away……

Some petals went astray

And the leaves took their own way,

I cannot resurrect.


It is not my doing

So I stand away

And wait for new buds to sprout

For tiny leaflets to fill the boughs,

I shall wait quietly

Till spring comes again.”







All in a day…..


Today, she cannot make out, whether to bask in the warmth of the soft, warm glow of the morning rays or to dance with the chastened flakes. She has both at her disposal. Had she so ardently wished for both? Certainly, there is something wrong with the universe. All in a day? For her?


May I touch the ice?

And yet smile at the Sun?

May I sing and be wild,

And dance around

Like the graceful one.


May I lay bare-

My soul……

And yet may I conceal?

What matters to me most

What no balm can heal.

May I rest in shade

And be rapt in wonder?

While the world runs amok

Amongst lightning and thunder.


May I just glance for a while?

Till I brace myself

To run wild.

May I stop wherever I want?

Whenever I decide.


May I, among this Eden,

Call upon the bards?

Who  sing of tears and mirth;

And speak to them

Of places, men and this earth.


May I live my wildest dream?

Here, among the Sun and Snow,

And ask them to stay awhile

Till I let my fears go……



A Pine morning…….




“I can’t  see you”, she shouts out to him.

“Silly, turn to your right and follow me in the cove. And quiet….”, he places his finger on his lips and beckons her to follow.

Suddenly, as if lightning has struck, she stops in her tracks. The endless track among the pines this morning has a dreamy effect on her. She looks at his eager form, his agile moves and the silence around her. She has been here earlier too. But this morning has something more to it. How is she to understand where this omen seeps into her?

She has sensed her soul flowing out from her being, traversing through the rough trail, right there, ahead of her. Her feet seem jammed into the wet earth. She tries to close her eyes and come out of this stupor. Now she is among the pines, one with the mist, dancing away through the uneven tracks.

“Hey”, he calls out again, this time whispering. There, she can see him now, bending over a nest housed by two lovely birds. The mist is rising, she can see his face clearly now; the contours of his face clearly refined and the spark in his eyes.

Her soul has flown back into her bosom. The pines are distinctly visible. All is right with the world. Here they are, picturing birds in a tender cove, she smiles with him, eager to move on.

Why this blog?

Why this blog?

Why do I write?

When I started this blog in February 2014, I had no idea what this was going to be about. It was a threshold where I was on the brink of gathering verses in my mind. Poems echoed……and I had to pen them down somewhere. I was settling into my new home, doing it up and helping my nine-year old adjust in the new environment. Left to myself, I had hours to contemplate; captivating sunrises to behold and of course, words that kept juggling.

Thus this blog. No, I’m not a writer basically. And I haven’t travelled the world. Most of my thoughts take a poetic form. That comes easy to me… say a lot of things in an easy rhythmic flow rather than delving into a long chant of words.

So again, why blogging? Possibly I needed a forum, where I could meet like-minded people and I have come to realise that it simply does not matter in what part of the world we are in. Moreover it is an elated feeling to see your words decorated beautifully for the world to read.

It feels at home now.

It feels like you are snugly tucked in and you can stay, even when you are doing nothing and just witnessing.

I will admit there are people, family and friends, who appreciate this idea of blogging, but they do end up asking ” Why blogging…..I mean what happens when you blog”. They obviously wish to know the perks of this exercise and if I derive any monetary benefits out of it. I cannot explain the perks and I will not. Writing has always been an integral part of my life, and I have never taken it to a professional level.

What serves to satisfy your soul has to be divine. Poetry is somewhat akin to that for me. Divine.

So this blog. It is my fresh water spring in a clearing among dense trees and wild locale.It is my part of the world. It is me.

Why woman?


Why Woman, this storm?

When all is falling in place

Where have you been to?

Which forest, at what pace?


Why, the kohl- lined eyes

Are smudged with fire?

And sometimes the words you utter

Seem to char the world;

From whence the ire?


Why woman, this storm

Whatever happened to your

Slow rhythmic ways?

Where have you been to?

Were there wild animals….

Demons, who messed with you…..


You, a slight flower,

That blossomed with an amorous ease;

Have sojourned so far,


-By tempests and the wild seas.


Stand by your inner self,

Your power intimidates.

Even the most tyrannous hurricane

At your command;




Why woman, this storm,

You can slow down

And rest in shade.

Blossom again with a fierce softness….

Be the perfect blend;

Lead the charade.