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Wednesday, 21 October 2015


The very fact that this great man laid his hands upon my book, is in itself an incredible feeling! In the month of February, 2015, the most awaited anthology 'Blank Space', was released. The celebration was, firstly, because I was the author of the story, 'She was loved anyway' under my pen name, Sun Bloom, and secondly it was going to be released through the hands of great visionaries of India, Sir APJ and Sir Kailash Satyarthi. Both of them being admirers of children, and the anthology being exclusively for schooling children, all kindred thoughts and people fell in the right place and at the right time. And then, this idea turned into reality!

My Anthology, Blank Space

The project being launched by Sir APJ
Image Credit: Blank Space page on Facebook

The project being launched by Sir Kailash Satyarthi
Image Credit: Blank Space page on Facebook
When I heard the news about Dr. APJ's death, the fact that he had touched my life so closely and now is gone forever, struck me numb for a moment. At second thought, there was a gratifying feeling that I was one of the lucky writers to be recognized through him.

Lucky to be caressed by Sir APJ's grace, I dedicate this blog post to him!

I would like to end with his inspiring quote.
No sanction can stand against ignited minds.

Tuesday, 20 October 2015


Image Credit: No. 8, Black Flowing, Jackson Pollock

At thirty three ignominiously,
His life was scattered around.
He had chosen his wife wisely,
Family-person, filthy rich and sound.

But, he was bereft before he knew,
Left with an infant and an ailing mother.
He incited sympathy of a few,
But his blood relatives did not bother.

You will be mine forever, he had said,
And had entered into blissful marriage.
A path of a new beginning they had tread,
A new chapter of life on a fresh page.

Unknown hands had pictured a messy story;
And the ink was strewn all over the page.
He could blame no one for the lost glory,
And could never come to terms with inner rage.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 290

Monday, 19 October 2015


Our earth is silent
Though its emotions run deep
With burning hot core.

It must have felt very deep,
Tolerated and nurtured
Everyone alike.

To know the value
Of silence and harmony,
One must be a saint.

Saturday, 17 October 2015


It was raining cats and dogs. Ensconcing himself, Sunil drove his car. A lightening flashed across the sky. It is a beautiful phenomenon to know that a small spark can transform into a powerful lightning and throw light to the earth below. A spark can ignite a house and burn it to cinder, the very same spark can bring about a beautiful sight across the sky as lightning and the same spark can take away lives. Nature is mysterious, a thing of beauty can be a thing of danger too!

Sunil's thoughts thronged around his mother. As the bumper of his car cannoned into the pouring rain, his irrepressible thoughts made him overwrought. He was disowned by his mother when he was a teenager. Not because he was an uncontrollable bastard that any mother could not control, not because he brought disfame to his parents. But, because she was not interested in parenting. Her mother had dreamt of big life - house full of maids and servants, wardrobe crammed with exquisite collection of clothes, an extravagant bungalow in her name, nothing else to worry about in her life. And taking care of a child? That was too strenuous for her.

He had grown in his relatives' house all these scorching years, managed to find a job for himself and stood on his own legs. He was a successful man for an average middle class person. His mother had never tried to know where or how he was brought up. It was surprising for a mother to never think about her son. It was appalling, in fact for an outsider. But, his mother was who she was. 

Sunil honked when he rushed to over-take another vehicle ahead of him. It was 5 AM and he had driven 500 km from his residence to his mother's residence. He never knew the reason that made him travel the distance for a woman who was not worth it. Tears ran down his cheeks, as the sentence reverberated in his head.

Your mother passed away tonight at 11 PM!

Yes, she was gone forever from his life. Not just gone, staying somewhere unknown to him, but, she was gone forever, never to return. He had lost a second chance to know, accept and be with his mother and she had lost her son and her life at the same time. Gods must be having a good laugh at them. 

He stopped his vehicle at Utopia Manor. He had finally reached his mother's residence. It was, indeed, a bungalow, she was living her dream. She was filthy rich, the design of the house could say it. 

A man noticing him, immediately jumped on his feet and ran towards him. He introduced himself as his mother's husband and handed him a note that was left for him from his mother.

I lived a disillusioned life and my worst regret is that I abandoned my motherhood for it.

His knees grew weak and he sat down on the grass in dead silence for a long time. When he was done mourning and tried to stand up, he could not feel his legs. He had driven all night and had turned numb physically and emotionally.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘He drove all night.'

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Providential Smile

“Life is short. 

Smile while you still have teeth.”

- Mallory Hopkins.

Is it not funny? Come to think of it, why do you need teeth for a smile? Because it adds beauty to your face or your smile? If yes, that means your smile and hence life is dependent on youth and age. Is that an inference of the quote? Sir Mallory Hopkins himself should explain it to me. The very reason I picked this quote is to show how everything is beautiful and centre about youth. We find someone's smile infectious and inspiring then. But, as we get older and wiser, we know, nothing is forever, nothing at all. Is it probably then a few start looking for an inner source of happiness.

For every parent, her/his child's happiness brings smile instinctively. And I am no exception. My baby's every activity brings smile on my face.

I have noticed a few people unable to find anything special in a baby. As a matter of fact, babies are annoying for them. So, the source of smile for any person may not be really external. It is a gift to be able to smile at anything. And a greater gift to be able to smile at everything.

So, if you ask me about that one person who can make me smile, even on a dreary day, it is my child.

Tuesday, 13 October 2015


Image credit: George Tooker, self-portrait

A legacy that a large sea-snail can leave behind, epic wars of relics like Mahabharatha and Ramayana began with one deserted small house of a sea-snail - conch. The amazing sound that can be produced from a conch is another different dazzling creation of nature altogether. In Hindu mythology, when a conch is blown, it marks the beginning of a war, death and agony. An insignificant snail that made its home in Paanchjanya (Lord Krishna's conch) must have been a very significant one to have started Mahabharatha war.

I wish the Department of Archaeology restored the souvenir of a happy home of a snail paving way for destruction, agony and loss! Lastly, not to forget, re-establishment of Dharma.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 289

Monday, 12 October 2015


When the lights are out
And all our conscience is dead
The game is over.


Weekend is over
Next week ahead and again
The routine irked her.


Written for Haiku Horizons: "over"

Sunday, 11 October 2015

Move on

Bitter-sweet; is it not strange how two feelings of entirely different meanings combine to form a common memorable experience? And stranger it is when it appears at the same time of every year. October is marked by autumn in India; fall as they call it in western countries. The shedding of leaves is a prominent part of the season. Mother Earth sheds her old leaves and welcomes a new beginning of another winter season. Yes, from bygone years, the earth, sun, moon and the universe have been doing the same - move on.

It was one such October, a rainy evening. Asha was returning from office in her two wheeler. It was with great struggle she could ride.There were very few people on the road, mostly those in a hurry to reach their destination. The rest were under the protection of roofs and shelters. Asha wanted to be home to catch up with her weekend plans. As she disliked anything that came as an obstacle to her weekend chores, she cursed the rains and dared to ride home undeterred.

She approached a red signal at a road junction when she paused. Her engine was still roaring to jump into motion once the red turned green. But, something caught her attention. A sultrily dressed young beautiful woman was waving her hand towards her for a lift. The dampness of her clothes embraced her hour-glass body, making her desirable for any man who laid his eyes on her. At first, Asha thought it was someone else she was waving at and ignored the sign. Soon the lady inched closer towards Asha and made a gesture with her hand for a lift.

Asha decided to help this woman after a second thought. She signalled her to sit behind her. Riding pillion, she adjusted herself as Asha re-started her vehicle. As they progressed further on the way, Asha could not hold back her curiosity. She asked her for an introduction. The next couple of sentences that she heard, brought Asha's thought process to a screeching halt.

My name is Mallika. I am a prostitute. 

Really? She is a prostitute and where am I dropping her to? Another prospective customer? Or where she resides? What would people think of her if they saw her near her residence?

Please pull over here, I can walk from here to the place. She raised her voice suddenly.

Asha stopped the vehicle and turned her head towards her way. It was a dingy decadent place. As the local people saw her, they began catcalling and eve-teasing both the girls. Asha felt a sharp pang of disgust; disgust towards men. Men who could not see another human being in a female; men who could see only an animal of flesh and blood as their object of pleasure. A shudder ran down her spine and quickly Asha made a decision.

Mallika, she called out. Mallika stopped in her track and turned back.

Would you come with me?

Are you a lesbian? Mallika returned another question.

No. I want you to come with me as a friend and start a new life. I will send you to college, you can study and find a job for yourself, you can live your life with dignity.

Mallika hesitated for a moment. She walked up to Asha and stared at her with bloodshot eyes. She was crying.

It is the so-called dignified society of yours that has brought me to this situation. My ailing mother needs healthcare that I cannot afford by working. I am earning more than what I can make from a job. Many educated men who work at posh places come to me at night. You know what I feel? The life of people like you sucks. Your education system has failed, your family has failed and in all ways. Your men earn, pretending that they earn for their family and for their happiness. But, the paradox is they spend their money on me. They pay me generous amounts. Their house-wives may not even get so much as pocket money for a year. I can laugh at your lives and be content with mine. It is you and your society, who should know of dignity, not me.

Asha stood there for a long time, dumb-struck. Mallika had aroused a question that would stir her blood and thoughts for the whole night. But, never minding the perturbed air on that October 11th, earth moved on and it was night again. A night holds many secrets and the secrets dissolve into the darkest hours of night. Who would care about what happened to Mallika or her customers, the next day?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. This week's WOW prompt is ‘Bittersweet October.'

Wednesday, 7 October 2015


Image Credit:  Jacek Yerka, 2011
I saw this note on the table.

I am tired of being someone, doing something, sticking to the schedule, obeying the rules, sleeping and rising at the same time; Yes, I am tired, I have lost the driving force. I am unable to move on. My languid limbs have no more desire to move and get somewhere. I am defeated; defeated by life. 

One night I want to sleep like this and float away accidental-like and reach someplace where there is no time, no ageing, no schedule, no being someone. When I wake up, I should know that such fey life is palpable, real, for sure, and it is finally mine! 

But, no! We all know there is no such thing. and with exasperating pain and her loss, I go back to my life again. She was missing one early morning.

Written for Magpie Tales: mag 288


The storm is just over
Taking many lives with it
Leaving me dumb-struck.

Bereft and crying,
Unsure how to bury her
I pick up remain.

A wishful thinking
That she will return to me
Once to fill the loss.

Written for Haiku Horizons: "storm"