Friday, August 31, 2012


A gurgling stream from a glacier
  Bringing outbursts of plentiful joy
Happiness , smiles and abundant cheer
  For children, teddy , cars and toy

In the midst, a barren desert
  Deep sorrow, grief and sadness
Things taken away, a broken heart
  Dunes of tears , leaving us in a mess

Stillness like the air everywhere
   Utmost serene, solitude and bliss
Alone in a crowd, no one to share
   Solitary moments, never a miss

Life, full of feelings ,mixed reaction
Joy and sorrow, a cycle of emotion...

( Tried to write a sonnet which is a 14 line poem with rhyming verses.)

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

        When the...
                                       Ballroom beckoned bloggers...

          Kids sprayed water on us from the hoses out of the huge ad boards inside the glittering ballroom and we were drenched from head to toe and this was just the beginning....

          Like the #tag of 'soak no more ' , I tagged my first follower in life as well as in Indiblogger and he looked extremely pleased and delighted as he simply had to live up to the prefix 'tag' and play second fiddle! The all too familiar purple hued boxes of surf excelmatic popped out of the billboards ready to be grabbed and the moderator and crew had purple T shirts to boot! The ambience was spectacular and my first Indiblogger meet had indeed started off with a bang!!!
          As always , we were on time , the eager hostess happy to help to log us in and we snuggly settled in the comfortable chairs nursing a drink of fruit punch. The attendees trickled in and the funny and not so funny names came up on the giant screen too, much to the amusement of the audience.


           Kick starting the gala event was Anoop , of Indiblogger who captivated and enthralled us and how I wished I belonged to the zodiac sign "leo"as bean bags and 6 months of detergent flowed like wine. The prelude was followed by baptism and  we got to know each other . My debut , was with what I thought Iam best at and that was reading this impromptu poem scribbled as I sipped on my fruit punch!

               A cocktail of poetry, technology and fiction
                     with a zeal, many on a mission

                Indiblogger, a phoenix standing tall
                      Minds meeting on a platform in Capitol

                 A writers' boulevard at a hub in Bangalore
                      Elite and celeb scribe with a folklore

                 Serenading in a sea of literati
                      Wordsmiths enticing with gravity

                 A haven showcasing eloquence
                    penning thoughts , feelings and emotions so dense

                   Reading, browsing,surfing till we soak no more
                           blogging fun, frolic, fervour and heart to pour

                   Leading from front, moderator Zombie
                                          Made larger than life by founder Renie!!!
There were no droolings of ooh, aah,and shouts of encore but a thunderous applause  made my day!
          Now it was time to let our hair down and we did it in style .Obviously there had to be a ball game in the ball room and all of us were divided into 4 colourful teams - blue, green, red and orange- red I chose with the team aptly named as "washed out" and we marinated in the hour long whoopee.
          Ravenous , after the gaming session, the counters of cakes, cookies and sandwiches was a treat ,washed down with aromatic coffee! The bloggers linked up with each other and I was on cloud nine when a few of them came up to me and appreciated my poetry- I had managed to market my blog or atleast I thought so!!
          It was then the turn of Mr.Girish of HUL to take centre stage and he rolled out the red carpet for us to enter the "excel"lent world of 'surf'. His presentation on 'surf excel matic' was interspersed with questions and plenty of spoils to be won for the correct answer. He implored us to be 'creative' , 'naughty' and 'plain right' and the suave audience was treated with bean bags, gift hampers, DVD players and so on. The Piece de resistance was the announcement of a new blog contest and the booty was a washing machine - the greatest invention of the century as mutually agreed upon by the debonair participants!
              The Bangalore extravaganza culminated with the organizers and sponsors digging out deep purple T shirts and surf excel matic detergent for all and the bunch of blissful bloggers romped off home richer by the experience . On the way back, the heavens opened up and the already "soaked" could literally take "no more" as the #surf excel matic Indiblogger event had bathed, imbued, sogged and saturated us!!!

ASIDE a lighter vein...
Tips for the next blogger meet
1) You have to be bold not brash
2) You have to flatter the sponsors to no end and then say "I did nit say all these just because I am here"
3)To win freebies, you need to have a loud voice....

And my greatest moment is coming when I win this contest......


Monday, August 6, 2012

                                                                      DEAR DEPARTED

A cruel blow of fate or God wanted him more
   Blossoming bud never to flower
Life shred to pieces , fragmented and sore
   Oh dear nephew , how could you go forever?

Standing amidst the stars gazing down in grace
   Watching the descending pall and gloom
Bearers longing to hug and embrace
   Oh dear nephew , how could you disappear?

World crumbling and a virtual standstill
   The nest empty, void, barren and languish
Longing, yearning, craving to the divine will
   Oh dear nephew , how could you vanish?

Anguish, never to dry up a torrent of tears
   In eternity we wait in solitude and desolation
Chronicles remain of the gone by years
   Oh dear Siddharth , how could you ebb away?

(This is a requiem to my nephew Siddharth who passed away at the tender age of 25 on 03.08.2012)

Friday, August 3, 2012

                                       WRITERS' BOULEVARD

A cocktail of poetry, technology and fiction
with a zeal, many on a mission

Indiblogger, a phoenix standing tall
Minds meeting on a platform in Capitol

A writers' boulevard at a hub in Bangalore
Elite and celeb scribe with a folklore

Serenading in a sea of literati
Wordsmiths enticing with gravity

A haven showcasing eloquence
penning thoughts , feelings and emotions so dense

Reading, browsing,surfing till we soak no more
blogging fun, frolic, fervour and heart to pour

Leading from front, moderator Zombie
Made larger than life by founder Renie!!!

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

                                        The Candle

A wick illuminating beauty and light
Emanating an aura and shadows large
The waxed cylinder a beholding sight
Delightful like a floating barge

In a dinner, melting away to glory
Sparkling a meteor shower
People gather telling many a story
Attracting like bees to a honeyed flower

I am elegant, stately and tall
But diminishing as time goes by
Elevating the stature of one and all
Not cruel like mirrors that never lie

A radiant beacon with a ray of hope
Swaying and flickering in the cool breeze
Lighted up in church by the Pope
Always like in prayer for world peace.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

The Red Lozenge

           A sudden blood curdling scream broke the silence of the sultry night, I was yanked off the bed by a brute force and the tick tock of the bedside clock rose to high decibel levels until my ears ached.
           Beads of perspiration accumulated on my brows , the power went off plunging the room in sheer blackness. Blinded by this totality of eclipse, I cursed the generator for not switching on. The breeze seemed to have breathed its last too.
            Out of the somber clouds, came the full rounded white object like a knight in shining armour ,flooding the bedroom with a strange light. I sighed with relief, but it soon turned macabre- I could spot blood stained footprints on the floor which seemed to get reflected in the moonlight aura. The force dragged me to the silhouette above the eerie red shapes and I followed loyally, like the dog its master, offering no resistance whatsoever. Now, the beads of perspiration had grown in volume, turning into a shower of sweat and I could feel it trickling down my spine in torrents. Dreadfully nervous, I heard nothing except the ‘lub dub’ of my heart, aided by the hypnotic effect, I gently opened the latch of the door and treaded outside. The moonlight filtered through the trees forming weird shadows , foretelling some signs of a gruesome tale about to unfold. The force moved on and so did the red blotches , I could even hear blood dripping onto the ground . the dry leaves under my bare feet rustled and then crackled , orchestrating with the symphony from my bosom.
             I walked on into the alley way , a slender bat flew over my head ruffling the hair in the process but undeterred I tagged along, the old grey stoned church standing in testimony to the times before and the revengeful deed to be revealed. I crossed it in a daze, disturbing the wandering souls at the nearby tombstones, who seemed to be in a hurry to occupy some desperate souls.
             A flash of lightening streaked across the midnight sky and a gleaming, glistening dagger was in my right fist inviting me menacingly to the house at the corner of Grove street .The mansion once proudly owned by the business tycoon Mr. Bhim Lal , my husband, who ruled the sparkling lozenges industry. Tears rolled down my eyes as the bungalow stood in utter desolation, neglected, abandoned, haunted and lusterless. Gravity was acting on me pulling me to the entrance of the stately building. The huge Victorian gates clanked open as if by remote, the driveway loomed in darkness, over grown weeds lit up by the lunar light ,playing hide and seek. The once, pride of the eyes garden was in shambles with crawlers and creepers stalking everywhere. A spider kissed the nape of my neck, I stopped in my tracks for a brief moment but the powerful , persuasive, emphatic thrust led me to the ornate main door which creaked open revealing the cobweb chandelier, it beckoned me and shortly I was spiraling up the winding stair case . I passed two landings and on the third one, I took a vigorous turn to the right to the room, which had been the domain of my daughter Kajal.
            The walls looked dull and forlorn , the magical laughter of my Kajal was not there , the room was full of dust and grotesque shadows were dancing in the dark. Lounged on a chair was a man whose face was lit up by a light from below his chin .An evil creature with a wicked grin , presently turning into a deep throated chortle. A brief elusive moment passed, before sheer exasperation drove the wrath filled venomous sword into the villainous chest of the abominable man, spilling horrendous blood , spurting as if from the nozzle of an aerosol can and spraying on my face .
             I stood stupefied in the carnage , glorified like a gladiator for what seemed like eternity…..

                      The rasping voice on the telephone line demanded “1 crore” as ransom money for releasing my kidnapped daughter unharmed and the deadline to make the payment “24 hours” and the line went click .
                     We were in diamond business for generations, the trade legacy passed down by our fore fathers .It was competitive and risky but our business acumen had made us to carve a distinct niche for ourselves and we enjoyed a prime share in the market and our imposing store stood at the prestigious Bhimji Zaveri street .We had recently bagged a deal with a South African merchant from Kimberly that took us to dizzying heights. But somewhere along the way, we picked up jealous enemies too who wanted to bring us down on our knees and the kidnap plot was a daring attempt by our predators.
                  My husband ran from pillar to post arranging the funds without disclosing the reasons as the abductors had warned us of dire consequences.
                   TRRIING…TRRIING, the phone rang ,my heart raced as I picked up the receiver, on speaker mode , the threatening words that were coming from the other end echoed in the house- the merciless mercenaries had upped the ante, they were now demanding 5 crores , stakes going up manifold , I just plunged on the sofa, with the receiver precariously dangling from the centre table , hands cupped at my chin. Kajal’s father in a fit of rage, called up the police and informed them about the kidnap and the rising ransom.
                     We were running against time , the police swinging into action, tracing the number to a public call booth and then getting sketches made with the help of assumed witnesses. The abductors , meanwhile had sniffed the scent of the Khaki trail and immediately snuffed the life out of my darling. Ruthlessly they chopped off the limbs ,disfigured and dismembered our princess and dumped the body in front of our house.
                    Inconsolable, we wept, cried, screamed and despaired, our diamond was gone forever…..

We relocated from that house leaving behind the painful memories, to another house to try and start living again. Day in and day out, a desperate voice echoed in my ears “don’t worry mama, I’ll find you my killer “and the vengeance grew within me… the deed was done, the holocaust over….RIP my red lozenge.   

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Big Bang - ver.2.0

(This is an entry for the vodafone contest "internet is fun" , please follow them at )

The evolution of our Universe was brought up by the Big bang , a continuous expanding matter like an inflated balloon, producing protons , electrons and  neutrons . This atom grew in size  and  introduced us to the new address , the address of the future : ,millions across the world swear by this digital language and the journey to an equal number of sites begin with a single click!

Welcome to the Big Bang version 2.0 , the ‘internetomania’ – compulsive addiction to the World Wide Web (W3), what started as a bubble by the path breaking invention of the ‘telephone’

   by Graham Bell , the wheels of invention have been vigorously turning , churning out new contraptions by the minute taking the world by storm. The bubble has grown in size, stature and dimension – it is so very huge and powerful now that for many , it has become an absolute substitute for life!

If the Harappans left behind the “clay tablet” as proof of their high quality of living, archaeologists of the future would unearth “digital tablets” with entertainment guaranteed to last a lifetime! The medium of communication which  in its rudiments, simply answered the question : ‘HOW’ does ‘WHO’ communicate ‘WHAT’ to ‘WHOM’ and ‘WHY’ & ‘WHEN’ and ‘WHERE’, has become an economy in itself and the seller of wireless telephony needs just two eyes  to produce an array of gadgets whereas the gullible user, even with as many as a hundred eyes, is still left high and dry, figuring our the interface and its applications! It is the magnificent rule of the ‘thumb’ and fortunately the homo sapiens have  been abundantly endowed with ten fingers ,( probably the creator did have a foresight on things that were coming,) which move at will at the whims and fancies of the maker ,who knows “nothing is stronger than habit”!

Extrapolating the birth of our Universe , which roughly took place 13.75 billion years ago, the Earth has evolved itself in a billion ways and still moving at breakneck speed , unstoppable . Now death  of mankind can occur on three counts- ‘heart dead’, ‘brain dead’ and ‘network dead’, life would surely come to a virtual standstill if the third  category were to happen! The maxim ‘born with a silver spoon ‘has to be rewritten as ‘born with a mobile phone  ‘ as these gadgets and gizmos cater to all levels and ages of society .The lifecycle of man starts with the time he is born, recorded by the digital almanac , he gets his name from the baby names directory on the web, the ‘fone’ maybe his first words uttered, the alphabet song taught to him by the media player, games galore  starting with the simple  matching puzzles and culminating in the GTA ,by which time they become masters of the gaming universe! All sports shrunk to about six inches to play from the cool comforts of their favourite armchair, then the texting, messaging, chatting and here I recall the lovely quote of Carl Sandburg , who said “Slang is a language that takes off its coat , spits on its hands and goes to work!” On “YOUFACETWIT”, life gets a twist and we get terribly excited when  someone ‘follows’ but in real life , this lurking shadow behind us would scare us out of  our wits !

The  cosmos began with a bang       
    outcome of a lone quantum
       blowing the balloon, we sang
           the chorus of W3,orchestrated by the atom

 Browsing texts, images, videos of pages
    navigating the chartered hyperlinks
      world at our fingertips , sensation of rages
          Human history born, as we may think

 Now on a handheld, smart phone or a tablet               
   weaving the web platform through  application
      tethering with 2G 3Gon the gadgets
        supporting a repository of device description

  An everyday phenomenon , sing away the blues
    games on different dimensions ,movies at an
                                                                  easy scroll
      adolescents fall hook,line and sinker, on their
        hawkers, traders marking their bullion toll

  You tube, face book .twitter, a multilayer notepad
    a forum to speak their heart and soul
      cool mobile slang making everybody LOL ,glad
 here a smiley, there a smiley, server never
                                                         crying foul

 Life made simple , easy and fun on the go
  all and sundry at the touch of an
   messaging, chatting, dating and matchmaking
                                                                   in full flow
     surfing the net , fitting perfectly into the
                                                             banking mean

 The inception of the universe by a single nucleus
   an assembly , operating system for any situation
     exploding matter and energy superfluous
         transforming from 1.0  to 2.0 version  ….

Well  folks , if you are “hooked” on mobile internet, help is just a “scroll” away !!!        


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

An unborn rider

 This essay is for the contest "what motorcycling means to the Indian motorcyclist" powered by Castrol power 1 . Please follow them @

        My 60 km ride suddenly turned bumpy, windy, dusty and yes, adventurous. The comforts of travelling in the 4 wheeler had gone for a toss after a ceased engine and it ended up cooling its heels in the garage. Like the baby bump on my mom’s tummy , the everyday rides too turned bumpy as the ‘three’ of us headed for work on the glistening red Kinetic Honda – the first motored vehicle without gear and clutch to enter the Indian market – the 1990s saw the advent of many new inventions and discoveries and this was one of them !
         Cocooned in the deep interiors of my mother’s womb, swelling with pride at her maternal instincts , securely fastened to the umbilical cord, snuggled cozily in the comforts of my ten month home, I could feel the romance of the rally ride from Bangalore to Hosur . We would start early at the crack of dawn , more often than not ,I making my presence felt by giving anxious nauseating moments to the bearer of this bundle of joy. But the journey had to start on time and it was a sight to behold for the passers by as well as fellow motorists, some of whom gaped, glared, gritted and guffawed at the erudite scholar with his over burdened pedagogical belongings in the luggage carrier and at his feet the hot  aromatic lunch packs , nutritious , healthy and packed with affection  for the voracious glutton in my mom’s belly!
          Two handbags strapped on the shoulder of the “backseat” driver carried all  and sundry- from medicines to tissues to balms to what not…The 100 cc never complained , groaned , creaked or guzzled but just kept going like a faithful canine , keeping its tryst with time ,never letting us down with any major breakdowns ,but we did have the occasional flat tyres , invariably happening in front of those ‘puncher’ shops on the highway which got fixed in a jiffy!
            Within city limits ,Bangalore lived upto its pseudonym ‘garden city’ and traffic snarls were few and far in between – no maddening , mayhem, maneuvering but once on the highway , with the 4 lane construction underway , my begetter had to show his manipulative skills to the fullest. The 18 wheel monsters on the road took pity on us more so for the rotund luggage at the back seat and gently gave way!
            The steady throttled jaunt rocked me to  naps and this little  driver would apply brakes in tandem with the motorist and the navigator going on a real high with this ‘kick’!!Destination reached on time every time for nearly  a month , this interstate safari  for “an unborn” 7 month old baby was the first riding lessons on  a bike ……rollicking, audacious, daring and quixotic!!!

( This piece is written from my son’s perspective, hibernating in my abdomen , while the steadfast scooter took me and my husband to work , commuting a distance of 60 kms.) 

Thursday, March 29, 2012                           The journey called life


  Every trip or travel for business, pleasure or otherwise has its share of unforgettable moments, some that bring a smile on our faces and some that send shivers down our spine.
                   The year 1975, my father suffering from a rare congenital heart disease had to necessarily undergo surgery at a foreign location, as successive surgeries in India had failed. My brother was born that year and me blissfully unaware of the trauma that was engulfing our house. Soon the decision to get the surgery done at London under Dr. Magdi yacoub was taken and my maternal uncle braving all odds, accompanied him on this emergency medical trip. The innumerable stumbling blocks in the guise of finances, papers, visa, PP and  a prolonged train journey from Cochin to Bombay lasting for more than three days due to the derailment of a goods train en route,  were all overcome with help pouring in from dad’s employers, relatives, friends, medical fraternity in London. On the day of the journey, my mom’s household was a sight to behold, in one corner, grandma invoking all the gods and goddesses,  grandpa doing all the packing and all other family members doing their bit with both hand and tongue. The luggage was loaded onto a taxi and to make it comfortable for my dad ,my uncle brought his ‘Standard Gazel ‘and all of us were huddled into the vintage beauty. As we neared the airport, my dad realized that the most important briefcase containing all papers and travel documents was left behind at home and time was indeed running out. My uncle informed the airport authorities of the emergency and the need to get back home to bring the “black box”, to which the authorities willingly delayed the departure of the airline. My uncle in his magnificient 70s classic  maneuvered the Mumbai mayhem and returned with the most precious piece of luggage much to the relief of all. For the elders in the family, this was a ‘vighnam’ moment and Lord Ganesha had paved the way and removed all future obstacles, needless to say a dozen coconuts were broken at Siddhi Vinayak temple- surprisingly his stay, surgery and post recovery was smooth as silk, went without a hitch and he did return with a fresh lease of life, infused with Pakistani blood, (transfused from a Pak Donor).Surgery was performed by the eminent Egyptian Doctor and his distinguished team. This trip gave life to my dad and all of us a new beginning!
           My dad (on the right) with           his saviour after 34 years  

 Harefield hospital in London where Dr. Magdi Yacoub is currently working.


                       After a decade or so, in the mid eighties as  Punjab and Jammu and Kashmir were in turmoil and on the troubled map of India ,reeling under “operation bluestar” and terrorists, taking the lives of innocent Indians by the day in these states respectively ,we boldly decided to vacation at Kashmir as my Army Doctor uncle was posted at the LOC. The train travel (the longest I believe) from Kanyakumari to Kashmir cutting across different states and cultures was indeed a fairy tale journey. As we neared Amritsar, we were told to securely lock all doors and windows of the coupe for the Pro Khalistanis showed no mercy ! The train chugged along and eventually pulled into the Jammu Tawi station with no untoward incident and as we disembarked ,I breathed in the salubrious air of the paradise on Earth for the very first time. The army camp was located close to the Pakistan border and for one fleeting moment , I could not distinguish between Indian bhoomi and Pakistani soil , only the wired ,barbed fence some distance away was the grim reminder of this Geographical insanity…The lovely aroma of the luscious green apples precariously hanging from the apple orchards was indeed a sight to behold.   

 For nearly a week ,my uncle played the perfect host despite his undying commitment to the country because of the troubles from across the border. His Man Friday dutifully packed hot parathas with aloo sabji which made our sight seeing more pleasurable. We were enchanted by the Nishat e bagh , the lovely Mughal gardens , snow capped peaks at Gulmohar the breath taking view from atop the ropeway , the pony ride on the snowy slopes putting the poor animals to burden and to top it all the serene icy waters of the Dal lake with beautiful shikaras full of multihued flowers and fresh vegetables. Water skiing was still at a primitive stage but the love for real adventure , at the peril of risk, daring my instincts to have a go at it on the lake . The take off was crude but all the same I was surfing holding on to a rope tied from a steam boat, I enjoyed the foamy icy water of the Dal with the wind blowing on my face not giving a thought about the landing. Well, the idea was that the boat would slow down and from the jetty ,the boatmen would simply haul me up – it sounded pretty simple but went awfully wrong as I missed the catch and soon ended in the deep, weedy waters of the Dal. My family shell shocked , stood in mute silence for those agonizing moments while other fellow wannabe surfers just slipped back into their clothes  . My swimming lessons did not prove futile, came to the fore and fortunately did not fail me at the most wanted time and soon enough I was back on the surface, emerging from the dark fathoms, albeit with weeds all over my face like a protective gear .I saw for the very first time , the looks of despair and helplessness writ large on my mother’s face, turning into sheer joy and ecstasy. Undoubtedly, this “surfing” experience has gone down in memory and proved that life is like the frothy bubbles of the Dal lake.

                     Our Scorpio VLX AT was cruising at over 100 KMPH  , in the cool
November month of 2010 on the newly laid stunning expressway between Bangalore and Coimbatore . As we neared the city of cottons, our ride was reduced to a crawl because of traffic snarls and the never ending construction activity . Just before a traffic signal, a car in front of us took a right turn and my hubby who was at the wheel had to de accelerate to almost zero , within seconds there was a thud sound from behind and glass and splinter flew all over the place onto the road. To our shocking disbelief, an old fashioned truck had rammed us from behind and even as we were recovering from the rude shock and checking on the wellbeing of mother and kids who were occupying the rear seats, a gentleman appearing out of nowhere ,managed not to allow the lorry and its crew from  making an escape. He also thrust me a paper containing the telephone numbers of the local traffic police and  as we were inspecting the “tail” of horror, that angel in disguise simply vanished from the scene and I was hopelessly cursing myself for not even offering a word of thanks! Fortunately as our vehicle was not in motion, the impact of the hit was restricted to the rear of the SUV , the tail lights and the diesel tank bearing the brunt, also the left rear door was jammed , the rear wind shield was shattered but the design of the frame had been such that the entire glass was catapulted outward and not a piece fell inside saving our mother and kids who escaped unscathed. Meanwhile ,gathering our wits , I called Mahindra’s toll free on road service number , who immediately directed me to the local Mahindra service centre via tele conferencing and even though it was a Sunday, the breakdown and pick up facility arrived in a jiffy . The front portion of the truck, made of cast iron , was badly damaged and subsequently, we understood that it was the ‘cleaner’ who was driving and not the licensed driver! The Mahindra people helped us to lodge an official complaint  with the police station and the issue was sorted out  within couple of hours and the lorry crew was charged with a hefty fine for gross negligence. An alternate vehicle was arranged for us to resume our journey to our relative’s house and our sturdy M Hawk was taken to the body shop . the damages were assessed and all the necessary paper work for Insurance claims was taken care of by the M&M officials. A few days later it was delivered to us in prim and proper shape and our dream vehicle was gleaming like never before!
                           The takeaways of this unforeseen incident – 1) The old fashioned truck has been nicknamed as “ mookulla lorry” meaning nosy truck and my hubby ,whenever sees one of these colouful trucks , moves miles away
J 2) the miracle man who did not allow the truck and its people to make a getaway and who gave the precious piece of paper – what do we call him? An incarnation of God , beyond doubt! 3) Thankfully our vehicle was not in rapid motion , otherwise the consequences would have been disastrous to say the least and 4) the timely reaction of the entire Mahindra team who swung into action and left no stone unturned  to make us comfortable and not feel the post mishap blues!!!                                          

These three incidents in three different years spanning over  three decades have moulded me and my immediate family as newer and better human beings , enjoying life with all its pleasantries relishing the great moments  and surmounting hardships by overcoming hurdles and obstacles, for life itself is an incredible journey with lot of twists and turns.

Tags and labels:
Dr. Magdi yacoub – Egyptian surgeon practicing in the United Kingdom
PP- passport
Standard Gazel- The vintage car of the 70’s manufactured by Standard motor co.
Vighnam- means obstacle in Sanskrit language
Siddhi Vinayak temple- the famous temple dedicated to Lord Ganesha  located at Mumbai
Operation bluestar- code name for flushing out armed militants holed up in the Golden temple at Amritsar by our army.
Khalistan- the militant outfit who demanded a separate state for themselves
Parathas- rotis made of wheat flour
Aloo Sabji- curry made of potatoes
Jetty- wharf or quay
Scorpio VLX AT- the sports utility vehicle manufactured by Mahindra and Mahindra
M hawk – the name of the engine in the scorpio.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Of blogs and titles …..What’s in a name?

I embarked upon this odyssey into blogger space to be fascinated by the congregation of articles and sobriquets like meteor shower , spectacular ,each with an inner meaning and giving an insight into the posts as well as the person. I undocked at the first station , which was “buzzstop” rendering fantastic tech tales and the “pied piper” led me to gadgets galore where “whiz kids” ruled the roost. The galaxy was a “hacktrix” of sorts and the themes , millions of asteroids!
   “Random thoughts”, “musings”, “vibes”, “opinions”, “expressions” and “perceptions” gave way to mellifluous “lightheartedtalk” to eloquent waxing and waning of “words” to blithe “conversations” to rantings, ravings, rumblings and the leader of the pack like the great bear was “cybernag” undoubtedly!
    Wonderful moments , which were hitherto held captive , started flowing out “straightfromtheheart” with “chaptersfromoneslife”. The epithets were “mind” boggling and I could see a Martian “ shadowdancingwithmind” leading to a “mindfiasco” but still there was an “avibration” with the alien!
   Even up there , I was enchanted by this “peddlarofdreams” who sold “inspirationaldailies” creating “zillionopportunities” for “wannabauthors” . Outpourings transformed through “inkandfeathers” and “sentimentalcallligraphy” weaving and winding its way through the maze!
  To replenish my system, I settled “overacuppacofee” to go on a jungle safari , yes there were not only ‘stars’ but stripes as well with Leopaws “bigbitz” resounding with thunderous roar ,devices stored in “gadgetcages”and left behind as debris was the “diaryoftheragingbull”! I looked yonder and heard astronauts lamenting “mytalentissowasted”. Lines., brushes and sketches made me to discover “” and the wizards of space conjured up images through “magiceye” which were truly and literally out of the world!
   My “whackedoutbrain” was still trying to decipher abstract non de plumes of the order of “deferredbrilliance” ,”investinternals”, “perpetualthinking” and I got a hard rap on my skull with a word of caution “bemoneyaware”! Stomach rumbling, I searched for food for thought when recipes tumbled out from “mykitchenflavorsbonappetit” and manna dropped from heaven-“divinetaste”. Food was delicious and tickling my palate and brain was “tikulicious”.
   The afternoon siesta brought about ‘Wordsworthonian’ mirth and melancholy through the “voiceofthevillagegirl” ,yellow daffodils swaying in zero gravity! I laughed my heart out over “wittyjester” and spent the star studded evening dressed to kill with “fashionqoutient”!
   Sojourn ended with the space ship landing with a thud and needless to say my hunt for that charming and elusive pseudonym still goes on……what’s in a name ? plenty I must say!!!     

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Crusader

 In the game of cricket, do you, we adore
Beyond compare as a human being
      A crusader for civic issues, coming to the fore
Every forum, grit and determination showing

A true champion in every right
   "Spinning " a web of yarn in many a sports story
All the noble causes,  a note worthy fight
      Many a team thrashed,  to attain glory

     A lover of animals,  an idol that inspire
Standing tall,  when others crumble
     In the young minds, a voice igniting fire
I salute the humble winner, ANIL KUMBLE!

This poem was presented to Shri Anil Kumble by my son Advaith , when he got an opportunity to interact with him as part of 'Edurite' programme for which Anil is the brand ambassador. 

Friday, February 3, 2012


                          Sriram and myself embarked on a trip, he leaving behind his books and me , my baggage of tirades and sons to fend for themselves. We chose a cozy corner in the departure lounge, but all the same it had a grand stand view of the passengers headed towards various different destinations. We had an hour to kill and soon Sriram was on his BB while I let my eyes to rove 360 degrees .
                          A flash of fluorescent yellow whizzed past and then it came back with the same rapid pace. The words “pachi” was emblazoned on a bright yellow T- shirt and I nudged my hubby with my elbow , he took his eyes off his hand held for a second  , rolled his pupils and roared with laughter , I followed, with the same intensity and at the same time took a reassuring look at my bosom to see that it was firmly in place as ‘pachi’ meant breast in our mother tongue  slang lingo. He  did a few more rapid rounds to show his allegiance to the footballer Daner Pachi from Bolivia ,which I later understood from my football frenzy sons!
                            Sriram went back to his gadget and I to my ogling . In the front row ,was a woman shrieking into her cell phone in high octaves , her entire travel plan lay open , only her body bereft of the shiny yellow metal saved her from a prospective  kidnapper! She had successfully outperformed  the “kolaveri di “ song that was being played on TV – anyway both were not music to my ears!
                            I moved on and this time my eyes settled on a grey haired man  with shoulder length hair , making me go green with envy , wondering what oil and shampoo he was using, wearing a spotless white “veshti” . He had a cloth bag which Iam sure carried precious articles of penance, his eyes were transfixed on a book on spirituality and he looked lost out to the materialistic world, and the repeated announcements over the microphone regarding the arrival of his liner went down in vain. I wanted, on an impulse to go and prod him to get on to his bus and travel to his place of ‘enlightenment’ but better sense prevailed – a person not attached to the threads of life deserved to miss his bus too.
                                       I shifted my butt to get a more comfortable view of this guy , who had opened his laptop and the bright luminescent screen was reminding him of the itinerary , well he needed a Lenovo to tell him his ticketing details! A moment later his fingers were tapping on the rows and columns of the excel sheet, while his bride hunting mother ,sitting next , was fixing his life’s ‘figure’ . She was bragging  to a relative probably, at the other end of the line ,about her son’s six figure salary, his awkward but tight work schedules ,his impending visit to the Silicon valley on a project assignment and so on. Disgusted with the swaggering conversation , my line of vision changed directions and was now resting on two teenage girls who were running their hands through the hair for the nth time , adjusting their add ons on their faces and giggling away to glory as they went about doing the chores, did I do these things while in college- no , never , I would have been chatting on cars, sports, spaceships and galaxies caring a damn about my appearances, a different genre and breed  among the homo sapiens!
                           Tired of their monotonous gestures , I was delighted to turn my attention to a foreigner who had a huge back pack which could easily fit me in , if only I could slip into it and travel like a vagabond! Elsewhere a little girl was continuously crying for water even as her mom looked on helplessly at the empty water bottle.
                           A “double barrel “ shaped couple huffed and puffed as they made their way , in time to catch their luxury sleeper , fortune , no doubt favours the fat too! A guy in shorts moved up and down with his auricles firmly plugged by ear plugs which had more pores than cloth and I pondered how it would help him from the cool winter breeze!
                          The undisturbed sixty minutes of gawking ended leaving me merry and light as my mind was now an R K Laxman canvas of caricatures which fortunately did not have to be put on paper. I whistled as I boarded the Volvo …..Au revoir  and Hasta Manana till we meet again , don’t know where….
                        Jai Ho India , you are my favourite!!!    

Tuesday, January 3, 2012


“ Depressing, dejecting, disgusting”….my sons paused for a moment to catch their breath..”just when we thought our mother was the greatest writer ever “, their idol had fallen to shame, dashing their hopes of winning I pads and other inviting gizmos..”not at all impressive “ they rattled on , “hmph , not even a consolation prize in any of the contests”.
                 I bowed my head in shame , sorrow and sadness, the narcissist in me had on so many occasions given pats on my own back ,appreciating my abilities and exulting in the accomplishments. All along I had been writing on topics that seemed to come from somewhere deep within and this was one of the few instances when I had tried at writing on something which was thrust upon me. The poem for the ‘Dove contest’ came with a flourish or so I thought , I rued over it as it was unfair on  other contestants to write prose, attach beautiful images , pictures and even advertisement banners on to their entries , when all they asked us was to write a poem! My children continued where they had left off “ maybe the whole thing was fixed like the cricket matches “ they echoed in unison “ who knows”? Now I was feeling a trifle better , after all I lost not on account of my lack of creativity but for various other reasons…a bad workwoman always finds fault with her tools..somebody seemed to echo in my ears.
                     After every concert, just like how artists are hounded for autographs , I wanted to be mobbed by my fans applauding my work ,calling me a genius! I was now a wounded soldier and the little devils were rubbing in more salt ”if not the poem, atleast your essay should have won something “ the elder one was eyeing the playbook with utmost greed , the younger one sniggered and I murmured under my breath. The second attempt at the ‘Surf ‘contest too had ended in a naught , the soap bubbles had burst leaving me in a sorry state of affairs.
               The unsolicited cynicism and unwarranted comments made me to withdraw into a shell and introspect.The “indirank” statistics started to trouble me more than my own vital statistics, my rank was a good 58 at the start of my innings with ‘indiblogger’ which I considered excellent by any standards for a starter .
               Then I started waiting for the monthly ‘grades’ , I blogged as much as possible ,if and only I had worked like this for my 10 th board exams, I would have topped the charts! The results were out and my rank 65 ,went hammer and tongs over this phenomenal rise within a month feeling jubilant and ecstatic, literally over the moon!
                       But this euphoria did not last long, the next review had me slipping to 61, the lines that followed was indeed Greek and Latin to me , the moderator had suggested though my blogs were quite frequent, I did not have the necessary links, reviews and Google page ranks, desperately the next few minutes were spent in googling these words and after some time I gave up! It was like the circumstances that led to the great crash , where banks failed and stock markets had tumbled, the great recession had set in.
                     I sulked for a few days with utter distaste for myself ,deprived of motivation and topics- writers’ block had also found its way into me.I had fallen from a swashbuckling batswoman to a woefully out of form player and I knew my career had ended even before it took off or so I thought ,but hang on folks , I am the greatest optimist and hopes were steadfast and obstinate , so here I am going back to scratch , getting my basics right and not “bogged down” but “blogged up” with ferocious devotion!
                  And I took a vow not to participate in any contests , well at least till the time a new challenge is thrown up before me and the prizes look attractive to my sons!