2 better than 1


Hi Everyone,

I am back from sabbatical of one month.  Was in India to attend my brother’s wedding.   I missed this platform the most, all those views,  likes and comments to say the least 😊.

Coming back to the title “2 better than 1”, before you indulge your brain in any guess-work and think that I am going to throw light on numerology or other such fields let me clarify that my focus is only on “Second” child – why not have one?

Complete Family portrait:  When we talk about a “complete  family picture ” it is more or less a norm that we are referring to four members – father, mother and rest is for you to decide 😉.

Don’t worry, you will do fine :  Well apprehensive approach of couples is quite understandable when it is about their first child but  with a second child in…

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Candles Online

Based on true story

Hi Everyone,

House in a mess and she decided to clean it up. Confused where she shall begin from. “Let’s clean up the cupboards first” she thought. She rolled up her sleeves and started her work. And when she was in the middle of her tryst with dirt and mess memories tumbledown from the upper racks of cupboard. Photographs! She took a pause to take a look at them. Time just rallied to past in front of her eyes. Though photographs were dull in colour but freshness of memories tapped in them is still intact. Fancy dress competition in school, Shimla trip in college, marriage, her son’s first birthday, summer holidays with cousins and as the sheets of the album rattled against each other her gaze was locked by one photo perhaps one face. It was college fresher’s day picture dated 20th July, 2003. How different…

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Oh ! Pristine Love….

They say Love can’t be seen. They say Wrong. I have seen Love. He is very handsome. He looks like a Royalty.
They say Love is Blind. They are Wrong. Love is all seeing. It can see the smiles and the tears in my eyes without even really seeing me. It can see like a scanner right through me. Like I am made of glass. Love has keen eyes.
They say Love is Deaf and Dumb. They say Wrong. Love has the most delicious voice, and it speaks the most beautiful language. Love talks soothingly when I am sad, it laughs when I crack jokes. It hears loud and clear. It can hear the pain I am hiding, the mischief I did.
They say Love Can’t be Touched. They say Wrong. I have touched him. He has the silkiest skin and most tender touch.
They say Love isn’t Tangible. They are Wrong. Love can be felt in the heart, it can exist in the soul, it can reside in mind.
They say Love has no Fragrance. They say Wrong. Love smells like Damp Earth, like Petrichor. I have Sniffed him. He has the scent of First Rain, of Sandalwood, of Rajnigandha.
They say Love is Madness. They are Wrong. Love is wisest of them all. He has the Wisdom of an Old man, the Innocence of a Child and the Determination of Youth.
They say Love doesn’t know Right from Wrong. They are Wrong. Love knows it all. But he is too pure to Judge. He is too unconditional to favour the Rights and abandon the Wrongs. He Embraces both with equal Affection.
They say Love is Aimless. They say Wrong. Love shows the Path always. Love guides with Knowledge, Love Inspires with Passion, Love Leads when we are too scared to take a step forward.
They say Love Cages. They are Wrong. Love sets a Free. It gives Wings. It offers a new horizon for us to open our wings and fly high. Love releases our Fears. It breaks the chains stopping us from taking the Leap of Faith.
They say Love is Pain. They say Wrong. It ends all misery and ends all pain. It brings a calm and peace never felt before. It is the proof that one soul can live in two bodies.
What is Life without you, my Love
They have no flavour, the dry Nights
Don’t go, can’t do without you
Don’t go, I won’t find another
What is a Monsoon without you
Oh ! My Beloved, I call out to you
These pale nights won’t go by
Without you…..Moon isn’t Silver
Sun is just dust, Withered Trees
Moist eyes, teary eyes, distressed soul
Oh, listen to my soulmate
Always be in love/live in love
Oh pristine love, don’t ever wake up
Don’t ever let your feet touch the ground
If you ever look into my eyes
Your eyes tell me a story
Which, though never comes on your lips!


You Were Mine…

The day we parted ways
Neither of us shed any tears
But neither of us slept that night
The Shadow of Moonlight kept us up since then
You were my companion
You walked with me, but there was no Harmony
Through the Sunshine and the Shade, we walked
There was no Estrangement Yet
There was animosity, Indifference and anguish but,
There was everything, but there was no Infidelity
The Kohl you put in my eyes was too Rough to Bear
My eyes hold you in them, they can hold none else
Your eyes kept my song at the time of Parting
But that song was never sung aloud, never told


Till Death Do Us Apart….

His memory followed me even when he moved on
It was after me even though I had pushed him away
It was tracing my footsteps through the barren lands
It was sneaking up on me from behind trees and rocks in those forests
It was lurking out at the most ungodly hours in the snow-capped mountain peaks
It was chasing me to the sand dunes; it waited near the oasis to quench his thirst
He was hunting me down like a deer caught in headlights
He was pursuing me through the deep dark caves under the Earth
He was tracking me down to the waterfalls of Niagara
He was walking down to my trail and reaching out to me as I break down, not letting me rise
He wanted me to be back, his memory not letting me find a hideaway
He wanted me somehow, his reminiscence making me trip every time I move on
His words coming back from the past to haunt me
His touch still spreading its arms, ambushing me unawares
I sat there and cried, wailed, shouted, threw stones at him, asking him to leave me alone. The wind blowing hard on my face, chilling me to the bone. My hair was scattered all around me as I gathered some loose strands and tucked them behind my ear. I Heard him then. His voice howled with the wind right in my ear as I closed my eyes. It was like he is sitting next to me, startled I opened my eyes and saw him, he was sitting right in front of me.
He just smiled, held my hand, looked into my eyes, and told me “I won’t leave you, I am here for life. You have left me, but I won’t leave you. My memory will chase you to the ends of this Earth. I will live inside you till the end of Time. You can’t hide from me; I will never let go. You know why? Because I live in each breath you take, I survive in your thoughts; I feed on your soul, I drink the blood of your heart, I get stronger with each tear you shed. I am here for a lifetime, remember the promise” he said with an ashen face as I looked transfixed into those mystical eyes.
“Yes”, I told him. I remember it; I remember the promise “we will live in each other, we will never be apart, nothing separates us but death”….. I said that to his memory as he smiled and vanished into a puff of smoke, drifting with fog. I buried my face in my knees, wrapping my hands around me, wanting to feel safe and secure, and repeated those words “nothing separates us but death, nothing separates us but death, nothing separates us but death”.
I removed the blades I wore in around my neck and held one to my wrist. My hands trembled, my breath caught in my throat, my heart beating hard like a drum, my mouth went dry and throat parched. His voice came in my ear “Do it”. I closed my eyes, steeled my heart, stopped breathing and drew the blade across my wrist. The blood splashed across the floor. The pain seared through me, scourging my being. And I saw you, your face in the blood that pooled around me. With every drop that flowed you drained from my body. It was getting quieter, peaceful, sleepy. What a relief to have exorcised you from my soul. I smiled in contentment before all thoughts left me and I slept in the lap of my free soul. Unburdened of the promise we made, I kept it, baby, I kept my promise love. Nothing separates us but Death.


Wish I had a Pen Pal!

‘Pen Pal’ was a very interesting concept during my school days as there was no internet, no mobiles etc., at that period of time.  I remember the advertisements for making pen friends or pen pals used to get published in different magazines and news papers.  Many times I had a desire of writing to somebody especially a girl and make friendship. But my dream never took the shape of reality.

I had published an article few months ago on my webzine Candles Online, ‘Living above negative situations,’ where I had mentioned about my childhood and teenage days. There was a loneliness living inside me during those days. There was a hollow within me. I was deprived of a friendship though I managed all those situations by God’s grace but the deprivation for a friend didn’t go at all. So what I used to do? I used to dream of a friend who should be a girl whose life should be full of sorrows which means we should be identifying with each other well. We should share all our sorrows and heartaches with each other on that life-less paper. I was dreaming how I will wait for the letter to come to my house and I will open and read desperately. But regrettably I was brought up in a very conservative family where my elders were not all open to these things. These kinds of stuff were not so cool for them at all.  I had to suppress the desire of having a pen pal.

Later in the life when I started taking my own decisions I made a great pal whom I used to call ‘Sassy.’ She was from Philippines and was very beautiful. She was married, who loved her husband and son a lot. But she was sad always as her husband was jobless. I used to encourage her every time when we contact each other. She was a very nice friend of mine. Even she called me once on the phone. Remember, ISD calls were very expensive then. But she did call me. That was a great feeling. But unfortunately she was not my ‘pen pal’ but a ‘chat pal.’ So my ‘pen pal’ dream of my childhood became a reality in the form of a ‘chat pal’ when I started working and was staying alone. I had many online friends during my bachelorhood. But she was the best among all.

Life changed. I grew in life and I know, once I joined different writers community, I got pals after pals. I never got a pen pal though but had many pals online. Some were forgotten and some are very precious to my heart who are still part of my life. Some say I have inspired them and some have really inspired me a lot. Pals are pals.

But even today I think, “Wish I had a Pen Pal!”

(Originally Posted HERE)

My Quilling

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Hello Friends, today I wanna tell you about what a fanatic I am when it comes to Craft. In my lifetime, I learned many arts and crafts. Among them were Paper Mache, Origami, Flower Making from clay to bread, from stockings to ribbon. I enjoy spending my time with colours, I love making something beautiful from something very boring. I can knit and embroider, what a satisfaction it is to see that thread or wool to slowly take intricate neat patterns, be it cross stitch or long stitch or stem stitch. I used to embroider handkerchiefs and even learned Shadow Work. Shadow work looks awesome. I can make Colored Glass Paintings which look like a rainbow when sunlight streams through them in mornings. Like that I learned many types of art forms, some I kept practising some I left untouched. I used to feel like the creator himself when I made flowers from clay or bread. As you join each leaf, you feel amazed with the power in your hands. It slowly becomes a rose, leaves, and what not.
I learned Quilling from Youtube. I was intrigued by the colourful paper strips that weave within themselves to form something so delicate, intricate and fantabulous. The Filigree patterns that can be seen in each leaf and each flower and each petal is the fruit of artists hard work. When I see my flowers together, I felt divine and blessed to have made them with my own hands. At that moment my joy has no bounds, and my hard work is paid off when someone tells me they look as good as any professional would have made them. I don’t make them to sell, I made them to keep me occupied and busy in a creative and productive way. I made them to be between colours, I made them to stay happy and sane. Many times people ask me why I don’t try to sell them, I often gift them but never thought of selling them. Selling my art is like parting with my own child somehow, I know it’s not the wisest thought, but it’s my emotions that rule me.
Quilling to me is therapeutic, it’s De-Stressing. It is rejuvenating to decide what two colours to use in this particular flower, or whether I will use Royal pattern or the Malaysian one, whether it will be a fringed flower or a combed one. And then as I weave them through the comb or as I use the scissors to fringe them, I forget all my worries and the only goal that remains is perfection.