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हम गिद्ध कब से हो गए

हम पत्थर ही पूजेंगे


हम पत्थर ही पूजेंगे
उसे देवी बताएँगे 
मंदिरों सजाएंगे
साड़ी गहने चढ़ाएंगे 
और जो हांड मांस की 
साक्षात देवी 
मातृत्व का बहनत्व का 
वरदान देती 
जो जग की जननी 
उसे पूजना तो दूर 
दहेज़ लोभी बन जलाएंगे
पुरषत्व का ढोल पीटेंगे
हाथ उठाएंगे
व्यभिचारी दरिन्दे बन 
उसे नोचेंगे काट खाएंगे
हाँ पर हम उसे 
पत्थरों में जरुर पूजेंगे
उसे देवी बताएंगे






हम गिद्ध कब से हो गए 



अधरों पे मुस्कान हुई 
हम मुस्कानों को नोचेंगे 
दिल पाले अरमां जब भी 
हम अरमानो को रौंदेंगे 
पर उड़ना चाहे जो भी 
उड़ान नहीं होने देंगे 
गिद्ध दृष्टि आबरू पे 
हम गिद्ध कब से हो गए 



जिसका खेल हैं गुड्डा गुड्डीया 
उसको भी नर नोच रहा 
हवस का साया कच्चे मन पे 
न रत्ती भर सोच रहा 
इस पर भी इंसा मैं कहता 
मुझको जी संकोच रहा 
बचपन पंजो में 
हम गिद्ध कब से हो गए 



नयी चिड़िया थी 
उड़ने का अंदाज नया था 
अब की कोयल होना था 
उसका साज नया था 
काले बादलो ने घेरा 
बिजलियाँ बरसाई 
दुनिया देखती रही 
हम गिद्ध कब से हो गए 



तमाशा दुसरों का 
हम देखते हैं रहते 
कोई फब्तियां कसे 
हम देखते हैं रहते 
छेड़खानी करे 
हम देखते हैं रहते 
बेबसी की मूरत नहीं 
एक हिस्सा हम भी गिद्ध हैं 



तमाशा कब तुम्हारा हो जाए 
आग घर लग जाए 
दिन ढलने  में 
दुश्वार हो जाए 
कल की सोचो 
आवाज उठाओ रोको 
अपनी ख़ामोशी 
उसकी जुर्रत न बनो 
तमाशबीन हम गिद्ध से बदत्तर 
आवाज उठाओ रोको 
कल की सोचो 
गिद्ध न बनो 



देवी को खड्ग संभालना ही होगा 



जिसकी आबरू पे 
साडी मखमली चढ़े 
उसकी कराह दुनिया 
सुन भी ले 
चर्चा करे सब कैमरे
कैंडल जले 


जिसको निवाला एक नहीं 
उन पे भी
गिद्धों की दृष्टि नेक नहीं 
न वर्दी सुने 
न कुर्सी सुने 
न सुनता 
कभी हैं कैमरा  


मैं ये नहीं कहता 
जो दिल्ली मुंबई में हुआ 
वो अत्याचार नहीं 
बलात्कार नहीं 
मैं ये पूछता हूँ 
जो गांवों कस्बो घटा 
क्या उनसे हमारा 
कोई सरोकार नहीं 

मखमली साडी को भी 
जब न्याय मुश्किल हुआ 
अब खुद सोचिए
जो चिथड़ो ढकी 
उसका होता हैं क्या 


दरिंदा मामूली रहा 
तो कोई बात भी करो 
गर दरिंदा अमीरी में पला हो 
वर्दी बिकी कुर्सी बिकी 
न्याय सारा बिक गया 
कानून तो वैसे भी अँधा रहा 
वर्दी ने उसे वैश्या बता दिया 


इस पे भी कोई 
फुल्लन हो जाए 
तो हाय तोबा 
बंदूक उठाए 
तो हाय तोबा 


सूती और मखमली में 
भेद न करो 
आबरू सबकी हैं 
फरेब न करो 
आबादी में इंसानियत
कब की गई हैं गुम
गिनतियाँ सब गिनने लगो 
तो शर्म से मर जाओ तुम 


जब चीत्कारों से 
शहर गूंजे गूंजे बस्तियां 
गूंजे गाँव घर 
इस पर भी 
खुद को आदमी कहते मगर 


जब इन्साफ का तराजू 
कुछ तोलेगा नहीं 
समाज मेरा मूक 
कुछ बोलेगा नहीं 
फिर तो देवी को खड्ग
संभालना ही होगा 
महिषासुर मारना ही होगा 


: शशिप्रकाश सैनी 



Like Shashi's poem? Visit his blog for more wonderful poems. You are welcome to download his first poetry ebook here Like & Share on Facebook, Plus & Share on Google or Retweet on Twitter.. Do encourage the poet by leaving your footprints! Thanks in advance!

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Made for each other ♥



In a corner of the party hall stood a beautiful blue-eyed angel with a cup of orange juice in her hand. She wore a snow-white splendid sheath party dress that ran from the bottom of the toes to the top of her chest and it perfectly hugged her figure following her curves to elegance, as if it had been made for her. The one-shoulder strap bodice adorned with subtle floral embellishments on the edge and the skirt part, the echoing floral embellishments had drowned from the left side waistline in front and become more to the sweep train. A small heart-shaped pendant hanged from a thin necklace around her neck, tiny heart-shaped earrings dangling on her ears, a round nose ring with embedded stones and a round designer headpiece studded with heart shaped stones hanged from the middle of her head complimented her radiant face gleaming in the party light. Her black hair hung perfectly, its choppy layers framed her face and indeed, she was truly a work of beauty! All eyes were fixed on her waiting for an opportunity to taste her.

To the people around her, she was a just blue-eyed beauty, or maybe a dream girl they wish to marry, but to her little heart, she was more than that. Actually a queen of her own world who could make any one mad with her nonstop nonsense and could burn anyone with her anger, though her heart was clear as a crystal and thoughts were noble as dove. In fact, she was a sweet candy to all who knew her closely.

With each passing minute she became restless, her gaze ran through the place for the seventh time searching for her man, but in vain. She walked to the bartender to fill her glass again and on the way back, she stumbled over the edge of the carpet. A six-foot handsome hunk helped her, smiled and asked if she was okay. She neither did return the smile nor responded to him. She moved away angrily as it was his mistake to make her wait. It was in her basic nature; she neither waited for someone nor made someone to wait. He apologized to her blaming that his jeep’s engine was faulty, so he has to walk all the way to the party hall. Still she was not convinced.

Being married to her for the past two years, he exactly knew what to do to make her happy. So he took a rose from his coat, went down in one knee, and recited a poem for her.

All my life I dreamt of a love,
That does not need any dove,
Still deep and soulful, I knew
It could be only you!

I think of you all day and night,
Even if we break up after the fight,
And whenever I feel bad and down,
You make me laugh and stay around!

Under the cloud and o’er the earth,
I searched for someone from my birth,
Who loves me till eternity with all heart?
And that’s you my sweetest sweetheart!


She blushed! He got up and hugged her tight. And they kissed each other happily!

It was no surprise that why he had won her heart among all the thousands who wanted to fall in love.


This post is written for The Character contest on IndiBlogger sponsored by Harper Collins. Have you read Ismita Tandon's second book Jacob Hills? If not, do right away, Click here to buy Jacob Hills on Amazon.com

Taking the cue from the versatile characters in Jacob Hills, I have created her sketch, the description reveals how she looks, and her character is what she to her little heart. She has a game for you: #GuessHerName? Clue: Put on your glasses and search for the answer in the image.

PS: After winning a couple of school level painting competitions and getting featured on Young World, I lost the interest in painting due to some unavoidable reasons. Today, I am glad I could sketch one after almost twelve years. Hope my dream girl is looking good. The sketch is inspired by an image found on Google Images :)

How is the sketch and the story? Do leave your footprints? Thanks in advance! And you are welcome to promote this post on IndiBlogger, Like & Share on Facebook, Plus & Share on Google or Retweet on Twitter..

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Jacob Hills ~ Ismita Tandon Dhankher ~ Book Review



Image Source: Ismita Tandon Facebook Cover Album

Jacob Hills is yet another fantastic book from Ismita’s pen; having read her first book, ‘Love on the Rocks’, I had a lot of expectation on this and she in fact wrote a wonderful book, which dealt with grave social issues and murder mystery. A fresh read this is!

I have a habit of observing the cover of any book that I read and this one has a lot to offer, bright sunset, a lonely road and a hill to paint a murder mystery in mind and I am sure that one cannot put down the book after reading the blurb of the story.

The blurb:
It’s just another evening at the Tiller’s Club.

Capt. Rana, a Young Officer training at the War College, stands at the bar, deliberately is avoiding his pregnant wife, Heena. Saryu, village belle-turned-modern babe, drink in hand, chats up another YO. Her husband, Maj. Vikram Singh, shoots angry glances at her. The flamboyant Lt. Col. Gary Randhawa and his wife Pam chat merrily with the senior officers – who’d guess that they lead an underground swinger couples’ club?

In a corner stands Eva, the beautiful Anglo-Indian wife of Maj. George Chandy, who finds herself at the heart of a murder mystery. The murdered woman’s body is covered with cigarette burns. A six-year-old girl’s wrist is similarly marked. Another little girl shows signs of severe abuse.

This is Jacob Hills: an army station that houses the War College. A world of genteel conversation, smart men and graceful women. Set in the 1980s – in a country on the cusp of tradition and Westernized modernity – Jacob Hills is the story of what lies beneath the smooth veneer. It’s a noxiousness the Chandys must confront if their love is to survive Jacob Hills.

Now you would agree that it is a good snapshot of what to expect and supports the title with a clear pointer to the army station at Jacob Hills. Being a lover of fragrances and smells (as said in post no. 400), this one was smell worthy!

If you expect me to write about the author, I would first say she is first a fantastic poet, though she tags herself as A Lesser Known Poet and blogging at www.lesserknownpoet.com. A good friend and a kind-hearted person who wants me to get published and I hope I would get published someday soon. Her poem, ‘I Am Beautiful’, won a prize in the Yahoo-Dove IndiBlogger contest and, several other poems have won hearts for her. She’s also the author of the romantic thriller Love on the Rocks, released in 2011. And she is currently working on The Song of the Sufi Masroof, a book of photographs and poems.

After the brief note and before the heart-wrenching prologue, a meaningful poem:

A life without love
Is like a park without children,
Bereft of laughter, of innocence...
Like a temple without God,
A book without a reader,
A man without a woman,
Yet, many a senseless life is spent,
Craving the pleasures of the flesh...


The story:
Like the dogs Bozo and Bullet, she and he and his favourite game, to kiss and burn. He’s a coward and a cowards always stabs in the back. She is found dead with cigarette burns on her body in an old abandoned church in Jacob Hills. Eva, who has moved recently to Jacob Hills with her husband Maj. George Chandy, finds her bleeding badly, admits her in the hospital with the help of Maj. Alex, where she breathes the last. No one is able to identify who the woman is and so she is cremated at government expense. A six-year-old girl’s wrist is similarly marked. Another little girl shows signs of severe abuse. Col. Sampat along with Eva and George resolves the mystery behind the murder and discovers some dark secrets of the residents of Jacob Hills.

This story offers you a lot of things – a newly married couple, child sexual abuse, an ill-mental man, sexual flavours, wife swapping, parties, drinks and get together. In total, Ismita has woven a good decent that keeps you glued till the very end.

Like in her first book, Ismita has many POV’s narrating the story, which I liked a lot as I could see the story through the characters eyes :)

Rating:
PLOT: 4.5/5
CHARACTERS: 4/5
WRITING STYLE: 4.5/5
TWISTS: 4.5/5
BOOK COVER: 5/5
OVERALL RATING: 4.5/5

Overall, the story is interesting and well written and talks about the grave social issues; it is a book worth reading, so do check it out.

Book Details:
Title: Jacob Hills
Author: Ismita Tandon Dhankher
Paperback: 259 pages
Publisher: HarperCollins (May 2013)
Genre: Mystery
Read: Paperback
Buy on: FlipKart
Facebook | Goodreads


* A heartfelt thanks to IndiBlogger, Harper Collins India and Ismita for sending the book and to my dearest wife for carrying the book all the way to Hamburg, Germany :)

** Keeping the review short and simple, as last time I wrote almost the complete story of 'Love on the Rocks' as review :P

Like the review? Sounds interesting? Buy Jacbo Hills on FlipKart. Help to reach more people, Promote this post on IndiBlogger, Share & Like on Facebook, Pin on Pinterest, Plus & Share on Google or Retweet on Twitter.. Do not forget to leave your footprints! Thanks in advance!
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Life is a mix of both: Sweet and Sour!



This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 41; the forty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "SWEET AND SOUR"

Dreams crushed. Self-confidence lost. Do we have a life now? Or was it just a crushed dream? I wonder.

Wires and tubes are running all around my body. Huge bandage is wrapped on my head and I cannot see anything clearly. Is this what people call as ICU? Definitely, this is a new place to me and for her. She is afraid of injections itself; I have no idea on how she is going to handle this life’s misery.

Is it our mistake to board that last bus to my place? Or is it my mistake for being unable to protect her? Or is it God’s mistake to create humans unable to withstand animal attacks? Whom to ask, God? I doubt if God still exists?

Heart rate increases. Alarm beeps. A team of five nurse rushes in and an injection (Morphine) is given. I doze off; slowly and painfully. The horrific memories of that ill-fated day occupied my mind: the day when our dreams were shattered into pieces and life became nothing.

Whom to blame? Boarding that last bus? Deciding to go to my place at that time of the night? Calling my parents on our land phone getting permission to bring her home? Taking her out for a movie? Visiting her place speaking with her parents and getting their acceptance for our relationship? Coming to Mumbai in search of her? Deciding to breakup for the sake of our parents’? Or falling in love with that stupid idiotic cute little devil?

I do not have an answer for this; but of this, I am sure: they are not human beings, not even animals’ as animals would not hunt that way; they are something which words cannot describe. They shattered our dreams. Had I known this I would not have boarded that bus, tinted windows and curtains and those 8 bastards who would even f*** their M***** if their loins are heated up.
Alarm beeps again. The team rushes in again and injects another dose to keep my heart rate under control. I calm down.

They laid a trap for us. The bus occupants had everything planned. Apart from the driver and the conductor, others behaved like they were passengers. We even paid Rs 50 as fare. They then started teasing her and it led to a brawl. I beat them up but then they brought an iron rod and hit on my head first, face second, then on knees. I fell down in pain and they took her away. From where we boarded the bus, they moved around for nearly one hour and 17 minutes. She even fought with them, but those animals hit on her head with the iron rod. She passed out. And those M***** F****** raped her; brutally and repeatedly.

They snatched our mobiles and tore off our clothes in order to destroy any evidence of the crime. And after throwing us off the bus, they tried to run the bus over us but I pulled her away in the nick of time. No one came forward to help us for about 30 minutes, finally a police man helped us; he took us to the hospital in his own jeep instead of waiting for the ambulance.

What happened to her? Is she alive? Alarm beeps again. This time my heartbeat raced like a tsunami. And I...

...after three days: conscious and okay, for the first time, I felt ashamed for being born as an Indian; cut me into pieces or set me on fire for saying that, but I meant what I said. I felt ashamed for being unable to protect her and for so many wonderful human beings, who ran away from us fearing that they may become an eyewitness for the case if they help us instead of lending a helping hand.

I asked a nurse about her condition. She first resisted, but then said that she has undergone a major surgery to remove her gangrenous intestines and she is unlikely to recover. I do not have a big heart to hear what she said, so I requested her to keep me sedated until she recovers.

...after seven days: I woke me up hearing that she is recovering well. She has undergone another major surgery and a bionic intestine is now stitched. I hurried to her bed in a wheelchair and whispered her name. She opened her eyes, I held her hand and said, be my life forever.

...after seven years: we are married, living happily with our kids now. Maybe, life cannot be only sweet and not definitely be sour; life is a mix of both: Sweet and Sour love story.


The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count:25

This post has won the second maximum number of votes in the contest, since I am the hosting marshal, I have passed on the BATOM to the next eligible winner. See the results here.


PS: The theme for The Write Tribe Festival is Seven. This post has 777 words and has several sevens in it. Find them out. Good Luck!

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#401 - A small celebration ♥


This is going to be a special post because for the first time, my sweetest dearest wife Vidhya has written a poem for me, a simple one :) Here you go sweetheart! The stage is all yours:

हम हैं दो
मिलके बने एक
हमने लिखे ४००
आज है ४०१..
अब लिखते हैं हम जुगलबंदी
​आपको दिल से है धन्यवाद
मेरी यही है नई शुरुवात

Well as she said, from now on we will travel a few miles together :) and here is yet another special poem from Grandma, Swarna Kaur. Thanks Grandma, as always your poem makes me feel special. Little one, special thanks to you for making Vidhya's poem sweeter :D

कर्म क्रिया प्रतिक्रिया अनुक्रिया
क्रीड़ा करते जीवन प्रान्गड़ में
सुख दुःख की विराट कुहेलिका
धुप छाव करती काननं में
एक तार में पीरे ये मानस
होते नित आविगत अन्नंत में
काल चक्र देती गति सृष्टि को
सब अतीत होता अंत में

As most of you know, my sweet journey started with the poem titled First Waters, followed by milestone post by guest writers and me.

* #50 – Last Few Words by Kanwardeep Singh
* #100 – The First Little Milestone by Leo
* #150 – A Sweet Tribute to my Friends on Blog-o-sphere
* #200 – The Sweet Milesone by Jingle
* #250 – The Sweet Milestone by Simran Kaur, Geeta Singh and Mohini Purnaik
* #300 – A Haiku by me and a poem by Grandma Swarna Kaur
* #350 – and we are perfect two by me.
* #401 – Since, this is the first poem from Vidhya’s pen I wanted to give a start to her and that's why 401*

The journey is a mix of ups and downs, smiles and tears, still a sweet one and without Few Miles, I am nothing. Today, I am glad to have published one of my short stories 'The Last Date’ in the book Kaleidoscope: An eclectic collection of twenty-five amazing stories written by 25 different writers including me and this anthology owes its origin to an international short story competition organised by Springtide. I hope in near future or before I turn 30, I will publish my first novel. Stay with me my dear readers, friends and well-wishers.

Thank you for being there dear friends! Let's celebrate!!

Please raise your glasses and let's enjoy the champagne…



Hope you enjoyed Grandma's poem :) Congratulate Vidhya for her first poem. Promote this post on IndiBlogger, Share & Like on Facebook, Pin on Pinterest, Plus & Share on Google or Retweet on Twitter.. Do not forget to leave your footprints! Thanks in advance!




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#400 Memories of a lifetime!


There lived a person who happily enjoyed each and every second of his life! Do you know how? Any guesses?

If your answer is, “Yes, but each and every second is highly impossible.” Well, that was what I too said to my love Isha. She laughed and replied, “Well there lived a person and I know him personally.” I was not convinced; I know there is no such person lived in this earth, even if that person is God, as God itself had been put through many tough sticky situations.

She then made me read read his interview on a daily newspaper, I was surprised! How someone could happily lived each and every second of his life? And that person was none other than Isha’s grandfather – the shocking truth.

Radhakrishnan (1901 – 2001), nope Rocky, he preferred to be called so, was the head cook of Sir Archibald Edward Nye, the last colonial governor of Madras Presidency. He was a specialist in South Indian Cuisines, European Cuisines and Japanese Cuisines. He was always appreciated by Edward Nye and his own family for the taste and aroma he brought into the cuisines, his style and his experiments in brewing coffee. Apart being a cook, he was a good poet who wrote Kavithai in Tamil at nights. He was married to Kannamma and he fathered a dozen of children equal in both sex. And lived in small hut house in SothuKalvai. He always claimed that the secret behind India’s Independence was his cooking and on a fine day, he ordered Edward Nye to leave India as a token of appreciation.

There is a saying in Tamil, “uppittavarai uLLaLavum ninai” (உப்பிட்டவரை உள்ளளவும் நினை) means we should never forget the person who served or cooked food for you and the best way to pay for it is to obey their words.

Rocky’s belief was simple: first are the eyes that sees, second is the nose that smells, third is the tongue that tastes the food and finally to heaven!

The secret behind his happiness was simple: enjoy everything that you do. And he did that right from the time he woke up in the morning to the time he went to bed in the night and at times even after that. Below was the list, I would say the secret.

1. Early morning visit to the field: the pleasant smell of the fresh morning breeze and the smiling field associated him very much to the divine nature.

2. Bathing in the Coovum River: the freshness brought by the river to his body and then praying to God Sun gave him a fantastic start to the day.

3. Milking the cow: it was not just milk; the environment and many other things counted for him.

4. Brewing coffee: not an Italian cappuccino lover, but he brewed many different flavours of coffee and cherished the aroma associated with that.

5. Dosa lover: dose, dosai, dosay or whatever be the name; paper dosa, ghee dosa, podi dosa or whatever be the type, the fresh golden coloured recipe, the lasting taste in mouth and the aroma made his day a golden day.

6. Bullock cart travel to Eddy’s house: he was unique, as he enjoyed the dance of the bulls, freshness of the kolam on the road and everything made his travel wonderful.

7. Lunch Preparation: a group of ten people prepared food for the Governor’s house, but lunch was his bucket. He enjoyed preparing the meal; be it Sāmbhar, rasam, kara kolambu, meen varuval, vendakai poriyal, mutton thokku or whatever, he enjoyed the fragrance while cooking. The fragrance contributed by every ingredient when adding to the dish, he enjoyed even that!

8. Cleaning dishes: though the head cook, still he loved to clean the dishes to enjoy the bright shining faces of them.

9. Cooking dinner: he enjoyed cooking the dinner more than lunch as he cooked for his own family. And every day he was appreciated for the same.

10. Writing Poems: Tamil was an integral part of him. Writing Kavithai helped him to find peace. He not only wrote about the nation but also about food, the love for food and the way he enjoyed cooking.

11. To bed: the best part of the day was sleeping and he said that at least ten thousand times in this lifetime.

To everyone, he was a role model in his period, as he did whatever he enjoyed; even before dying; he said that he would enjoy the smell of death soon. And after reading his interview and after hearing more about him from Isha, I liked my own life. I started enjoying each and every fragrance around me, right from the morning fresh breeze to the most pleasant smell of romance at nights. In fact, I would say I started smelling life. And a lot of nostalgic memories were associated with different fragrances in my life because smell and memories always had a direct linkage as the smell activates the brain and recalls sweet memories. I wish I could list everything, but a few are listed below:

* First time, when I sensed the freshness of a newly born baby (Ashik, my nephew) I felt new, which words could never express. I did not stop instead I went ahead and started falling in love with fragrance around.

* First time after our marriage, when I was holding Isha’s hands sitting on windowsill, I loved the pleasant smell of wet winds and after that, even when I was alone wet winds always reminded of her.

* First time, when I was kissing Isha under a banyan tree after getting drenched in rain, the refreshing smell of the soil made the moment romantic and even now, whenever I kiss Isha I could recall the refreshing smell.

* First time, when I was cooking, the mouth-watering smell that comes out while seasoning the food was something I could enjoy every time I cook; still I feel that as one of the best fragrance ever smelled :)

*First time, the enticing smell of jasmines and roses and of course Isha’s are something that mesmerizes me on all romantic nights.

* The freshness of the new book (THE NOTEBOOK) and that of the old one (LOVE STORY) reminds me of the books in brackets.

Apart from the ones listed above, fragrance of Agarbatti, freshness of Sambarani, attraction of Ponds and Z Talc powder, perfume of old spice shaving kit, rasa karpuram, KFC Chicken, McDonald Burger, old or new book, all that cooked by my Mom and Isha, jasmines and roses, air freshener that changes Smelly Air to Smiley Air and every fragrance associated with my life in home or at work has some special memories and special stories.

Memories of a lifetime
Remains fresh over time
Either old or new
It can be a few
Still good to be heard
Though cherished or ignored
Freshness of a baby
Just born newly
Holding hands
To wet winds,
Jasmines or roses
Or of Isha’s
Smelly to Smiley
A life full of fragrances!


This post is written for 'Smelly Air to Smiley Air' contest organized by Indiblogger. Click and explore more fragrances from www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia

*This is my 400th post and the next post is going to be really special as a special person has gifted a poem for me.

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An Unknown Relation Became A Special Relation


Beep... Beep... Beep...!

The alarm clock buzzing struck at 6:30 am. Lying in my bed in somnolent I opened one of my eyes, poked on the alarm clock and drown back to sleep again.

After a minute or so …

''Suhani, Are you still in bed? Get up sweetheart, you’re getting late! It’s already 6:35 am and by 7:00 am you've to reach to the bus stop. (Said my mother patting continuously on my back.)
I hate to go school Mum. Why they’re timed this early? Let me sleep please!

Don’t talk crazy, today it’s your English test and I don’t want to listen any complain from Miss Radhika. You've to score more than Sanjana. You’ll, Am sure. (said Mum to make me realize the stiffness of competition)
I am preparing your breakfast. Come down fast I’m waiting there on the table.

I came out of my room while muttering something to myself and rubbing my hands carelessly in tangled hairs. Every day I stand midst mesmerize to see my grandmother. She is too old. Have wrinkles from everywhere to everywhere, her tied locks of grey hairs,eyes closed and lips engage in enchanting prayer, sitting in a straight posture.The contentment and peace on her face a serenity calms me down and that’s how my day begins.

I touched grandma’s feet and greeted her, Satsriakal Bebbe (''bebbe'' in Punjabi we use to give respect to elderly lady)
She blessed me and kissed on my forehead
I walked on wheels and within 15 minutes I was ready for the school.
Bye Bebbe, please do pray for me. Love you!
Hi Sanjana, are you prepared well for the test?
Yes, but I am afraid how would be the questions. Are you?
Yes, I am ready too but not as nervous as you’re

Bebbe says, ''There is a possibility of everything but only when you tend to make it so with true efforts . ''Your efforts determines the part you deserve.''

Hey sweetheart, welcome home! How was your day? Hope you did well in test.
Yes Mum, I did my best and I am not worried how would be the result, Bebbe told me ''Try the best you can without caring of what would be the result because being true to yourself shall never let you stop or loose Hope. You know the efforts you made were true and will never go in vain''

I hoped Mum would agree to what grandma said but she said nothing!
I've made your favorite ‘Rajama Chawal’
Mumma you’re the best ( I said while hugging Mum tightly )
Oops! I forgot to inform you baby, you friend Shreya has invited you on her birthday party today.
Birthday party! Wow!!(I said with enthusiasm)
But have dance classes today and have got much home work to complete (I said in a dismay)
Don’t worry today you’re allowed to skip your dance class and I’ll help you in completing your home work when you’re back.
OK Mum! (Said I with excitement)
Here’s your pink frock, see I've got pink color hair band, clips and white belly. Mumma knows well I love fancy. I dressed up like a princess.

Bebbe, Main kive lag ri haan? (How’s I am looking?)
Bohot soni lag ri ve , nazar na lage mera sona puttar! Jaldi aa jaien (you’re looking so beautiful, God bless you!And come back in time)
Haan ji Bebbe (OK Grandma)

We all have a busy life or in better words personal lives that confine all of us within our known boundary, no matter who you are, your fringe is limited at the edge only. I am close to only two members in my family. One is my dear Papa, who usually has trips to different countries because of his profession and so as to earn bread and butter to fulfill all our desires. Whenever he come home without wasting my single minute…

Papa, what you've brought for me??
Pencils, colors, chocolates, dolls?
I've got all of them for you puttar ji.

He finds his happiness within mine. Papa is close to my heart not just because he fulfill all my wants but because he is the only one with whom I can share my problems and can get ultimate best solutions.

The second person close to my heart is Grandma. Though I don’t talk to her much or express my love but there is a special place for her in my heart. Where everyone is busy in the world of their own to sort out their problems, I see my grandma in the rarest of rare sitting at a place preaching God in silence.

We don’t tell her about the problems going on so as to not to make her worry yet she perceives the matters clearly. She has great intellect and instinct.

The fast and modern life of today where everyone do race to chase for their crave for materialistic things and a blind race to prove individual's supreme distresses her where little things have become even littler. Those little things actually belong to peace of mind, satisfaction, kindness and spirituality.

She would ask me to sit beside her and on Sundays we together sing Bhajans (Holy songs)

''रोम रोम में तुम्ही हो हरजी
रोम रोम तुम्हारा है
मैं तो बस एक बुत हूँ हरजी
स्पंदन तुम्हारा है
सभी जीवों के तुम्ही हो सृष्टा
तुम्ही से जीवनधारा है
निर्मल को तुम्ही बल देते
तू सबका पालनहार है’’


I observe each of her activities and words closely. She has a nature to react and correct immediately if one is doing wrong. Every now and then she tells what should be done and how should be done but never impose her decisions on us.

''My whole life had been full of sacrifices and I am satisfied that I followed my heart and instincts.''(said she while sharing her life experiences with the guests who come to our home)

''Follow your instincts. That's where true wisdom manifests itself''

It wasn't she wanted to sing of those moments she is proud of but she believed this would help people of today’s generation to lead their entire life in a better way with comprehension,cognizance and holiness.

They all listen to her, agree, some ponder over but never implement.

Whenever Grandma speaks of her life experiences I sit in a corner and listen her. Though I’m too little to understand her thoughts exactly yet I listen her with keen interest and try best to understand the meanings. I found them inspiring and thoughtful, realized when I was growing up! I got occupied with my higher studies. Already there used to be less of my and Grandma's conversation but now it had totally ceased.

Grandma’s health was degrading day by day, her speech unclear; she did not speak or eat anything. I was called!
One day when I came into her room to give her tablets, she ignored to have them. I was worried and asked her,
''Ki gal hai Bebbe, please tussi jidd na karo hunn’’ (What happened Grandma? please don't behave obstinate)
Nai puttar hun mein puri hon ja ri haan (No, my child I am going to die). She realized her end was near.
Meri ek gal yaad rakkhin (Remember my words)

She held me close and said
''The satisfaction of mind cannot be ample by the money but it can be procured with the light of knowledge in heart and mind.''

I found she wasn't able to open her eyes,unconscious and told her vision was getting blurred.
I shouted my family members for the help but by then we found she wasn't anymore. There was still the same contentment on her face. I cried within my heart as wanted to spend more time with Grandma but soon her words made me strong

When we get so much of love, we are at the top of the world and get madly blind within its sweetness! But when we realize that there is no one to love, we mourn over it!’’
''It's only our hunger or eagerness to grab the happiness, the main reason behind our pain and cries... This truth is totally unknown! The one who sows this excitement within is prone to it's loss.This is all the reality.''

There was an unknown relation between her giving and my receiving. Those strong soulful words said by Grandma associated an unknown relation of wisdom and self realization that became so special unbreakable till the eternity.

Written by Simran of My Friendship, stop by her for meaningful poems

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Isha ♥ Sid


Listening to the Beethoven piano sonatas on her newly bought iPod shuffle through earphones, Isha lived in her own world – a world for her dead dream of living with someone special. She was clearly upset because of Sid, his newly found life and his lack of interest to spend time with her. And a question constantly pricked her heart: How could someone change so soon? I was a dream angel to him, can you believe, I was?

She was orphaned all of a sudden, like a golden fish out of a fish tank and her heart could not digest that. So she updated her status on Facebook as Isha is feeling confused and tweeted too hoping Sid would read it. Her bad time, neither her Facebook friends liked her status nor her twitter followers retweeted her tweets, not even Sid: she felt dejected.

Sid, unaware of Isha’s feelings for him, lived his newly found life happily. He stopped talking to her and he was least bothered about Isha, not even in his thoughts. He ignored her completely everywhere: Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp and on Skype.

Isha was unable to handle Sid’s misery, so she decided to end her pain in a simple way. She called him on his private phone but he did not pick up, so she sent a calendar invite. The invite was simple and clear: Subject as Suicide, Date was scheduled on the same day, Time was mentioned as half past one in the morning, as that was when she first met him in his dreams and the Message was short and crisp. The invite was accepted tentatively by him owing to his busy schedule.

She was afraid of pain, so she neither want to hang herself nor cut her throat, she also hated all other ways of committing suicide. Knowing the fact that buying sleeping pills would require doctor prescription, she bought a bottle of cough syrup so that she could drink in one go and sleep forever. And by one in the morning she was ready for committing suicide; she wore some makeup, her favourite half-saree, costly ornaments and she did all she could do for her, but her desire for living in his dreams failed her courage of committing suicide. She sat confused, so she updated her status on Facebook “Should I die or live?” and confused. This time, likes and comments flowed like a perennial river, wishing her to live long for hundred years and bless the pen of “Someone is Special”. She felt happy! And when she was on seventh heaven, she heard Sid knocking the door outside and shouting her name, so she decided to play a prank on him: to act like she committed suicide. She drank a spoonful of cough syrup and quickly emptied the bottle in the washbasin, wrote a suicide note, though only a half-written poem and slept with the cough syrup bottle in her hand.

Sid, who accepted the suicide invite tentatively thinking Isha is playing prank on him, got scared, as she did not open the door for long, so he broke the door open. On seeing Isha lying on the floor with a bottle in her hand, Sid broke into tears and started shouting I loved you Ish, shaking her body. He read the poem, which he believed to be suicide note:

I am caring for you,
From my heart,
All day and night, and yet
You fail to understand me.

I am thinking of you,
From my heart,
All day and night, and yet
You fail

He was reliving all the sweet memories he cherished with her right from the moments of madness he experienced in their childhood to the dance in the park on a rainy day in a romantic way. But his grief was short lived, as he heard Isha talking in her sleep. He then poured a bucket of cold water on her face and she woke up shivering shouting at him for all he did to her. He simply ignored all her complaints, went close to her, hugged her, kissed on her forehead, whispered those three magical words in her ears and promised that she is always the queen of his dreams!


…and after that incident they fought happily with each other like they did in the past!


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. What you feel about this story? WoW or not? Do let me know :) And BlogAdda says.....


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உனக்காக மட்டும்



அங்கு வர துடிக்கிறேன்
முடியவில்லை
வந்திருக்க மாட்டேன்
இந்த உண்மை
நான் அறிந்திருந்தால்

ஒரு குதிரை இருந்திருந்தால்
வந்திருப்பேன் அக்கணமே
உன் கண்ணீரை துடைபதற்கு

நீ இல்லாமல்
நான் நானில்லை

உனக்காக மட்டும்
என்றும் நான்!!

என்றும் நட்புடன்,
சரவணகுமார்


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A hobby


At the stroke of midnight…she slit his throat.

Two days later, she read about a murder of a twenty-five-year-old young man in a local newspaper.

Five murders in the last three months, all the five were killed by slitting throat.

She laughed silently as it is her new hobby. A fresh bloodthirsty hobby #CelebrateKilling


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. What you feel about this love? WoW or not? Do let me know :)

Also submitted to G-Man's Friday Flash 55.


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