The downpour

The downpour seems to be intoxicated with bold hints of a question you haven't quite realized, not quite yet. The throbbing pulse fails to escape exhilaration when that familiar rhyme competes with your senses and it gets harder and harder to keep up with your rationality; the very same rationality which was your sense of pride. The pride however, seems to have extinguished in a matter of those few hours of the noisy evening; when facts turned into irony, when practicality seems absurd at the vivid fantasies your overwhelmed mind materializes, you can almost touch it.

You're in control of yourself, you're standing straight. But what would you not give, to let that guard off, and just act like the irresponsible voice that echoes in your ear quietly; the one you're turning a deaf ear to, the one that resonates in the void within you, winks at you, to give in.

The downpour seems to be intoxicated with bold hints of a question, you'd realized a long time ago.

light the match!

I wake up each morning with this pain in my chest that I love with every bit of life left in me. Every dawn I witness is an invasion of light in my pleasant dreams making everything too bright to feel their vividness anymore. And that’s exactly why, every single day, I await the sight of the sun at the horizon at dusk, happily aware that it won’t be long before that I can let go of reality, loosen its grip over me & let myself fall back in love & those lovely dreams that are safely locked in the past.

He was a change that I dint need to force myself to accept. His absence is a scar that I protect from being healed, because the pain is what keeps me closest to him in every possible way. The very same pain that makes me shed buckets full of tears, makes me smile in wonder, makes me blush so hard that it never ceases to burn my cheeks when a small gesture, a soft hum remind me of a time I don’t need to look back to convince myself of all the happenings.

There are a lot of unanswered questions that ache my heart as they linger for an eternity that I tried to lose to time. The fear of being forgotten haunted my sanity, for what I always wanted to be was, a ghost that wandered its way into his present, his pursuit of happiness.

All for a time when you’ll hang onto the pain, just so you feel remembered for the hurt that you were caused.

Why is the Fair Lovely?

The prerequisite for being a girl, a woman is to be fair. So it seems it is essential to qualify anything that is an aberration. Or, is it simply a manifestation of an inescapable conditioning? I can say from my own experiences that the color of my skin definitely featured in most introductions and comments about me. Had it not been for my parents, for whom this was not a topic of conversation, I would have grown up believing I was just not good enough. Thanks to them, I defined myself through nurturing many different interests. How I looked was unimportant. It was only in later years I realized how fortunate I was.


Why are we supposed to feel proud or ashamed of attributes that we are born into. I have done nothing to be born as a woman, a Hindu, an Indian or dark. But then there are choices I have made through the years that have been mine and if I must be judged, let those be the ones. It’s easier said than done though. Have you noticed the rise in the number of fairness creams, dark actresses looking paler and paler with every film and magazines, hoardings, films and advertisements showing only fair women? You could ask what is there to be shocked, as all this has always existed. But with more women in the work force, voicing their desires and concerns, more debate about gender equality and sensitivity, one would imagine that racism of this sort would be on the decline.


As if this isn’t a concern enough, now the insecurities of men are also surfacing with equal number of fairness products for them. Such pressures and so little public debate around it! Am I over-reacting here? As I introspect deeper I realize how inadequate so young girls felt purely because they couldn’t live up to the societal standards of beauty. Every film and women’s magazine told them how ugly they were. It made their personalities hesitant, insecure. Isn’t this a worthless pursuit? Shouldn’t we be focusing more on building their confidence? Oddly, how educated or affluent you are has no bearing on this prejudice.


With fairy tales like sleeping beauty talking about “who is the fairest of them all” and Snow White and Barbie dolls becoming role models for little girls. Right from our childhood the message is clear, and in later years it is only reinforced in many ways. There are blatant and subtle reinforcements that only fair is lovely. Is this fair?

So...who is who's who?

He loves me & I love him.

I am scared to break the news to my mother & he, to his son.

The fear distanced us from them.

A year of courtship ended in a court marriage today. Would they accept our marriage?

We head straight to my mother’s house to seek her blessings.

She seemed to be able to manage well without me.

I enter the house apprehensively to find that my mother has remarried.

She welcomes us warmly.

I am happy that her new marriage has returned her laughter.

I am eager to meet the new man of our house.

The doorbell rings.

The person calls out my mother’s name & she blushes.

I instinctively know it’s him.

She announces our arrival to him & I can hear some more happy laughs.

Nervous yet taking in all the turn of events, me & my husband prepare myself to meet my mother’s husband.

They enter the hall & we stand there face-to-face with my husband’s son.

Life’s good :)

As long as human beings are capable of emotions, there are bound to be arguments. As long as the people in question have no control over their emotions, there would be egoism being rubbed right in your face, shoved under your nose. How does one decide who is being immature & who is the egotistic idiot? Does it all come down to who is offended & who’s not? Can a text, an abuse, a dig at someone’s guts, a blatant exhibition of one’s insecurity, intermittent reminders of different upbringings, storming off in a huff, or anything at all change our perception of the Right & the Wrong’?

Things are never just 'right' or 'wrong', by the way. The world is a lot more complicated than that!

Anyway, despite the air of negativity that encircled the beginning of the month, I’ve been fortunate enough to be loaded with events that makes me believe “There is & always will be, a lot of joy left in this world”.

Life’s good :) :) & to each of you who’ve helped me stay optimistic here’s a big thanQ.

timeless romance!

the clickity-clack rhythm of metal

the chugging of the smoking diesel engine

the gentle breeze hitting your face

the little raindrops on the window sill

little children waving from hamlets

a sadhu and a dog on a deserted platform

the oh-so-mouth-watering, never mind the hygiene (or lack of it), gastronomic temptresses

the hide-n-seek with the cockroaches traveling ticket-less

garam chai in the middle of the night

sunrise and sunset in the middle of nowhere

just a few things that weave the aura, the romance of train journeys

Train journeys mesmerized me as a child.

What do they mean to you?

What is your favorite mode of transport for long journeys?

This ad made my heart flutter, rekindled the lost love for trains in me, yet again & my dil goes ummmmmm...uuummmmmmmmmmmm every time I see the video :) :)