FLOWER-POWER!

So would you still like to be a flower? ❤

The HESITANT APPROACH

I feel that being a flower could be the best possible thing ever!

It would make most people come over just to simply admire you, for a bit. Then they leave, but you could seek solace from the fact that at least your scent and, maybe, your distinctive appearance, made them stay for a while.

Or, if you are lucky (or unlucky, depending on your take on the situation) someone will pluck you and take you back home. Over time, your countenance will evolve into a dry and crinkly one. That’s when you’d probably be replaced by some ‘fresh and lively’ flowers.

The best possible scenario is that you encounter a well-meaning individual who loves you enough to scoop you out of the soil, along with your roots, to place you in a makeshift flowerpot with the intention of watering you, so as to keep you around for as long…

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The urge to belong..

Source: The urge to belong..

Rantings of a sucker who couldn’t dance into New Year…

Running on straight roads and making round trips to what not! Somewhere we have given this a thought.

Ad vitam paramus

While relishing khichdi and spinach soup and caressing the meenakari on my bloated stomach around three holes dug in belly to perhaps eviscerate demons of vanity and pretentiousness out of me, my mind was running amok. I wondered why New Year’s Eve is such a big deal in our country that half of the population neither had the will nor the time to listen to the ‘desh ke naam sandesh’. Though in their defense, it might not just be the eve but the unending wait to witness the glorified and the only USP of the incumbent government, the proverbial “acche din” which gave us nothing but “barbaad raatein”.

So, while Major Lazer and Phalguni Pathak were fighting on the dance floor, to prevent myself turning into a green cucumber in envy, I retired in my PJs and while romancing with my bed and giving a time-out to my aching spine…

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Today We Begin

I am in love with words and the magic of expression. How much? Ironically, to tell you that, I am short on words.

It’s a certain different kind of magic that words weave. And I, like a million others in this world, have been caught in this magic. So beautiful has been its way that it has led me to the answers of questions I never even knew I wanted to ask. Words, put together in a thread of thoughts, have at times disillusioned my mind, while at other occasions gifted me with clarity. They have built me,