Posted in Creative me, Poetry ... an attempt !

My barren garden !

picture courtesy Google images

My garden lay barren ,

fall out of a calamity .

You were there …..

 It hurts my heart to think  ,

that never for once did you

know  of my desire  ,

never for once did you ,

make me feel loved .


And I ? 

was foolish enough to love you ,

with all my heart .

“ please don’t leave  ”

you had told me once ,

for you thought of a tomorrow ,

which is now a mirage !

 I say now that –

nothing has changed , nothing ever will .


I was there for you ,

always .

Not anymore .

For  I am letting you go 

and whilst you leave ,

do remember ,

roses will bloom,

in my garden too !

Posted in Creative me

From Delhi to Bangalore

One compartment away from each other they sat , complete strangers ,on their way to Bangalore . Oblivious to everyone around  engaged in a silent conversation of their own.  She was surprised at how  effortlessly he brought a smile to her face  . Words were but a luxury . She would at times laugh out loud inviting reproving glances from her own parents .

Three hours earlier she was at Delhi railway station waiting to catch a train to Bangalore . Her mother clearly disapproved of her   haircut . She wasn’t happy herself ,  a recent visit to the parlour had proved disastrous for her long tresses . She stood staring into the  tracks hoping  for the train to be on time .

He was with his friends waiting for the train to embark on a journey that would get him one step closer to his dream he  nourished since childhood .

The train was on time .

Her parents were busy settling down while she got in . Not wanting to put her bag down which almost equalled  half  her weight she stood unable to open the door . He was  seated comfortably next to the door when he saw the silhoutte of a girl outside the cabin . Getting up , he opened it for her . A moment passed by as if in a trance , that was when they first met .

Three hours later they sat totally smitten . There was something about him , she could sense his vibes . The way he looked at her , it was  electrifying . His gestures , they made her laugh .

She is so beautiful he thought , her eyes , smile everything about her portraying innocence . He loved the way she adjusted her cropped hair every now and then . He longed to be with her ,  to tell her she was beautiful nevertheless . The connection seemed so strong. There was no way he could have his feelings conveyed . He knew they would never meet again .

It was time to sleep .  Reluctantly she tucked her sheet under the berth  , one last glance and the lights went off . She lay awake , her thoughts flooded by the man she just met . She knew nothing of him not even his name yet he was the only one she could think of . She was ambitious enough to not get herself  distracted from her dream .But he had done just that .

He wanted to sit up all night talking to her , getting to know that stranger who had his heart beating at a different pace . He did not want the journey to end .  He never knew when he drifted off to seep.

It was quarter past six when she woke up . She passed him on her way to the washroom . He was still asleep . She got back to her seat and waited for him to wake up . And when he did his eyes searched for her . It made her happy .  Time was running out .

Waking up with a start he turned to where she sat  . The relief he felt did not last long for he realised they had only two hours left . At a distance  he saw Bangalore railway station approach . His heart sank . It was time to get down .

She saw him wait at the door keeping it open for her . Her heart felt so heavy that she couldn’t look up . There was a paper folded in his hand . Why wasn’t he giving it to her ?, she thought  . She knew it was for her . She was waiting .

He saw her walk towards the door ,her eyes carefully avoiding  him .  He felt sad . But when she did reach him he saw the same yearning in her eyes that was present in his  . He wanted  to know his name ,give her his phone number and also know her’s  . He had it all written in the little paper neatly folded in his hand  . He was about to give it to her when her father called . She got down .

They plodded towards the exit with memories that would last for a lifetime. He saw her waiting  in the queue for taxi . She wasn’t looking . He thought she would cry . It was only when the taxi arrived that she turned around to see him . He couldn’t fathom the amazement in her eyes . She smiled . The taxi drove away . ‘ If we were meant to be , we will ‘ he thought and rolled up the window immersing himself  in the probabilities of a beautiful forever .

She could not muster enough courage to turn around. She thought she would break down . As she was getting in a sudden sense of despair set in and she turned around . It was then she saw him sitting in a bus not just any bus , the bus that belonged to the Indian Air Force . Her dream ! She smiled . Maybe it wasn’t over yet …..

Posted in Creative me

Life isn’t perfect ……..

“ sleep doesn’t like me when you aren’t there , you know that right ? ” she asked wistfully.

“ Of course darling , I will be back soon ” he said .

For her every second spent away from him was agony . Their love was beyond any scale that could measure . He was the sweetest guy she ever met .And for her he would move mountains .

Pangs of jealousy ,mistrust, anger , failure  hit them too like any other couple . Love rose above them all . They had their own share of imperfections but were perfect together .

He left his party midway  to be with her . She had his favourite dessert ready when he got home. Watching him take every bite of what she so lovingly prepared ,she felt a certain joy only he could comprehend. There was love in her eyes that reflected in his . He kept the bowl away and took her in his arms .

“ I love you more than anyone else in this world ” he whispered .

LIFE ISN’T PERFECT BUT LOVE DOESN’T CARE…. an image on the wall read . 🙂

love doesn’t care……….really 🙂

picture courtesy Google images 🙂

Posted in Creative me

Like a phoenix rising from it’s ashes

                                                                                                                                                August 15 , 2014

                                                                                                                                                   3.00 a.m

Dear diary ,

            Disturbing you at 3.00 a.m isn’t quite me , I know . But last night I had a dream, it felt so real that at first it did not seem a dream at all . I can still hear her, every word of her’s as though they have been etched forever . Its Independence day today and I had gone off  to sleep last night feeling particularly Indian. Not that the other days I don’t , yesterday was different.

As I slept ,a sense of uneasiness gripped me, I could feel someone  at my feet , she was crying . Frightened, I opened my eyes to see a  beautiful lady ,  ends of her garb torn and mud strewn all  over her . She was looking so forlorn and tears wouldn’t just stop flowing .

She was Mother India , she said . Oh ! diary , I never ever even in my wildest dreams did imagine  Mother India to look like the way she did . I sat up in bed and we started talking , if that meant she would get some respite, I was in. She grieved for her daughters who could not  go out being sure of returning home safe . For her daughters who could not wear clothes they wished to wear without inviting at least one comment a day. For her daughters who could not  fulfill their basic needs without being hunted for their flesh by human predators . What has she become ? she asked …. Her grief sure was infectious .

She felt ashamed that men who rejoiced in sadistic pleasures were being born everyday in the very land where her sons once fought with such staunch principles and values. Ashamed of the avarice and corruption that has conquered her land. Ashamed that some of her children were still feeding on rats to satisfy their hunger while some others see no other way but to end their poverty stricken lives. She felt bad that the world was so technologically advanced and there still wasn’t proper  sanitation for most of her children . She told me the few privileged people did not represent her but the ones struggling to make both ends meet did .She was angry at the hypocrisy and discrimination that prevailed . And the brain drain , what fault was her’s ? she asked .

She was growing old and on her 68th birthday she felt sorry for the great men who died for her . Her heart went out to the lives still being lost trying to protect her and the families shattered . For what ? she asked . One last drop of tear fell and she looked at me .

I realised that she had not yet given up hope . She still believed in the goodness that resisted all evil. And like a phoenix , she was waiting to arise …..

Dear diary , I love my country so much and all I want is bring that smile back on her face . Like Gandhiji once said

Let me be that change  I wish to see !!!! 

lots of love 



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.  The prompt was 

It is the night of August 14th. You are sleeping peacefully until a lady, who identifies herself by the name of Mother India, wakes you up and starts talking. What does she talk to you?

Posted in Creative me

A night’s tale

courtesy trivandrumblog images                                             picture  courtesy Google images


The phone kept ringing continuously , though he was in bed, sleep was a distant dream. His fever subsided but not the calls . It was her parents . He wasn’t ready yet ,and doubted if he ever will . He wanted to erase from his memory every second of that night .  Switching his phone off  , he put it away. He couldn’t imagine being alone, fear was his companion now .

A week ago he wasn’t like this . Darkness never scared him . He was returning after dropping off a family at the airport . His means of earning  some extra money . And that was when he saw her , all alone waiting for a taxi  .

She got into his car , a pretty girl in her early twenties .

“ It is dangerous for girls to travel alone so late ” he said .

“ This is the first time , my first bus broke down and I missed the second ” she said .

In that short journey  lasting approximately 10 minutes, she told him how much she loved the city , her hostel , friends and the sisters there ( it was run by nuns) . As they reached her hostel he saw a gathering at the gate.They seemed to be waiting for someone . SORROW written  all over their faces .

“who are they waiting for , why is everyone so silent ? ” turning back he asked , when to his  horror he found the seat empty. He just couldn’t believe it .He stopped his car and ran over to  the gate .

“what happened here ?  ” , he asked the watchman.

“ A student passed away in an accident while returning to the hostel . It was her last wish to be buried here in the hostel grounds . We are waiting for her  ” he said .

The ambulance arrived , he could hear cries of her parents , friends whom she so dearly loved . One look , that was all he needed , it was her . She was there with them , crying and he could feel it . Sweat trickled down his face …….he fainted !!!


p.s.    this post is loosely based on a true story .