Showing posts from 2017

If This Isn't Nice, What Is?

This man's simplicity always amuses me! (Pic Credits:  *** The alarm clock stuck six and a gentle hand shook me lightly. "Wake up son, morning is here!" , she smiled and said. I looked at her, with sleep flowing out through the wet drool from my mouth. I turned off the alarm and smiled back. It was yet another morning. Yet another daylight. I got up and mechanically did my basic chores like brushing my teeth, taking a cold water bath, exercising a bit and then having my breakfast. I was still a bit sleepy and tired but that didn't change the fact that I had to show up for the day, no matter what. I left the house at around 8 am and bid goodbye to mother. Commuting to work is one of the biggest hurdles. You've to drag yourself through the horde of people who're all out there to fulfill their duties and their tasks. The queue for the rickshaw was unbearably long. So, I took out my earphones and plugged them into my phone. As the tune

The Depression And Suicide Connundrum

(Pic credits: Since everyone is riding on the Justin Beiber wave, selling their kidneys and souls, dying to get the tickets to that elusive concert, I thought why not take this opportunity and talk about depression and killing oneself. Because that's what most people are going to do after the concert. "He killed himself. He must be a coward." We've often heard this phrase being uttered by many. People who didn't even know the person, judging the heck out the them, after their death. Maybe. Perhaps he is a coward. Or perhaps he is a brave heart. It's all a matter of perspective. There's a general societal notion that one who kills himself is a coward. One who's timid and doesn't know how to fightback. But is it really so? Do folks who kill themselves consider themselves as cowards and losers? Is suicide really an act of faint-heartedness? There are no specific answers to this question. But I often ask myself, why is it t

Beyond The Obscured Clouds

(Pic Credits: A chirping sparrow flew towards the old banyan tree and sat in his nest, cozying against the settling evening. The tree had stood in the farm since ages. It had withstood rain, storm, unimaginable natural calamities and atrocities of time as well. So primordial, that tree now formed the soul of the farm. It had witnessed everything. The warm gentle breeze flew southwards and the sunlight had toned itself down. The faintly visible crescent moon was now hanging desolately in the blue eastern sky while the sun was gently sinking towards nothingness. The farmer was now done with his day's toil and was packing off his belongings. He put the tiffin-box in his rag satchel with the insecticide container latched onto his back. Then he went to get the bullocks, who were busy grazing, munching on the soft green grass. He bought both of them near the cart and started to fasten them to it. The bullock-cart was now almost ready as he loaded the stack of hay

Meeting An Old Friend

"Some people seem to fade away but then when they are truly gone, it's like they didn't fade away at all." ~ Bob Dylan. (Pic Credits: Rardul Shane) It was a Saturday evening and the sun was partly relished by the hungry mountains. The palm trees were swaying with the gently flowing wind which also tickled the wisps of my long gray hair. I got down from my motorbike and placed the helmet on the backseat.Walking languidly towards the wooden bench, I sat there and breathed in the aroma fresh autumn air hanging loosely in the air. I saw some distant folks dressed up in white overalls, tending the overgrown hedgerow. Some of them were gardening, watering the flowers, to keep their delicate freshness intact. The bliss and fragrance of aromatic lilies and tulips, I was soaking it all in! I opened my beige colored satchel. Accessories are not my thing but this one was a gift from Jane, so I couldn't be sardonic towards it. I took out the box of beans and started