“The spring wakes us, nurtures us, and revitalises us. How often does your spring come? If you are a prisoner of the calendar, it comes once a year. If you are creating authentic power, it comes frequently, or very frequently.” —Gary Zukav, spiritual mentor and author
…lost and gained some Lost my precious furry child, Cotton; but gained a bundle of love and sharp energy, in Mishka. Lost weight as the winters wrapped into spring, but gained weight in summers. Thanks to fresh, delicious home cooked meals, and my love for sweets. My winter metabolism leans towards losing weight and summer metabolism towards gaining. Yes, I’m one-of-a-kind ! 😉 Lost myself to the bountiful nature that grows and flourishes boundlessly around us,…
Twenty-four by seven: #WriteBravely #WRITETRIBEFESTIVALOFWORDSJUNE2018 She toiled twenty-four by seven at Donna’s kitchen. “No rest for the wicked”, she always said with a winsome smile. Donna’s Kitchen was her life line, her haven and her home away from home. She had no family to call her own, but the staff and Donna were family now. Amelia actually enjoyed labouring almost twenty-four hours at Donna’s kitchen. After all Donna had given her everything, when she had just about nothing. And…
Thank You, Babi: #WRITEBRAVELY #WRITETRIBEFESTIVALOFWORDSJUNE2018 My Dearest Babi, I dedicate a few lines to you, on this monsoon day. The sun is playing a constant game of hide and seek, while the clouds outstretch their arms in a stoic cover of grey. The muggy air looks on undeterred as nature performs a spectacle of sorts. It’s a good day to be thankful, for you should know how deeply indebted I am to you. Babi, thank you for believing in…
Rain and Its After Effects: #Writebravely #writetribefestivalofwordSjune2018 It poured all of last night. The rains finally lashed Gurgaon with unfettered fury, giving the parched residents of our millennial city a much-needed respite from the sweltering summers. I was awake beyond midnight, listening to the rhythmic pitter patter of the rains, which would suddenly rise up in crescendo. The winds continued to holler along side, tapping furiously, and at times gently on our glass doors and window panes. I woke up…
Last Song of the Dusk: #WriteBRAVELY #WRITETRIBEFESTIVALOFWORDSJUNE2018 At twenty-one who would have known that leukaemia would ravage Antara’s being, reducing her to a bag of bones. It was hard to fathom that the bubbly, effervescent Antara, always brimming with joie de vivre; was now counting her last days. But not without a plan at hand. Antara’s bucket list was ready on her sixteen birthday and she had planned to tick the list off in the next ten years. Little did…
I want to break free: #WriteBravely #WRitetribefestivalofwords2018 My girlfriends and I are road tripping from Madras to Pondicherry. It’s just the three of us. I am at the steering wheel of a feisty green Ford Figo, manoeuvring my way through the lush, bountiful landscapes, blasting music on the stereo. We are singing off tune and head banding to, “I Want to Break Free.” Suddenly Rinks jumps out of her skin breaking our make-believe world, “Did you hear that babes?”…
GIFTED Rob and the woods had an inexplicable connection. He found his inner peace amidst the deep, dark woods. And walking through them at dusk gave him more pleasure than a Zinger burger would give a youth his age. That particular evening as Rob walked past the huge oak tree, he heard a soft wailing sound. Rob thought it did not sound like an animal. He stopped short and turned back. As his feet trampled the dry leaves, the wailing…
{Z} is for Zen THOUGHTs Do you carry zen thoughts or zen people in your life? I am fortunate to be surrounded by quite a few zen beings. Isn’t that one-of-it’s kind blessing to have? Therefore, zen thoughts come blowing my way more often than not. Sometimes in the form of a statement here and a statement there, an act of kindness, a sign knocking at my door, or an answer “blowing in the wind”, as our dear Bob Dylan…
{X} is for Xenia, The Flower Girl Xenia, the flower girl lives on a hillock, by the lush, bountiful Swiss countryside with her family; a hard-working husband, Zeus and two-year-old twins, Daisy and Daffodil. Her home is brimming with hospitality. Every weary traveller or passer-by is welcome, to stop by for a simple, warm meal, cooked with love by Xenia. Xenia is known as the flower girl of the village, as she runs a flower stall. In today’s modern language she is…