Aug 20, 2010

The Thursday Challenge

This Thursday was really challenging.
First my faithful old lappy crashed and with it went all my data. The doctor was successful in retrieving it for me luckily but I had to sit and transfer it to a safer external hard disk.
Then it was quite a task to flick my hubby's VAIO and pretend as if it was always mine and here to stay with me. ;)
Then this Thursday Challenge prompt reminded me of one particular temple back in Mumbai that has always been very special to me.
So I had to dip into the archives and fish out the album out of a collection of many. This photograph is from my college days when there were no digital cam's readily available.
I had to also go through the entire rigmarole of syncing my scanner with the new lappy!!!!!
Therefore it was quite a challenge to find one hard copy from the album then scan it and then finally post it here. BUT I DID IT!!

 I used to click around the city with a simple manual Minolta SLR in those days ..And I loved the way my cam' responded to my command.My photography teachers told me it was giving me wonderful output...Do you think so too???

Sharing with you one of my favourite  features of the magnificent Shankar Matham located at Matunga in Mumbai, Maharashtra, India.

I have always loved paying homage to Lord Shiva here especially because the temple precincts are so beautiful and artistically done. The South Indian Temple Architecture is an example of the peak of Indian culture & creativity. 

Aug 17, 2010

The Trail Blazer

There's beginning and an end,
Every tale betwixt does twist and bend.
Without a frown, ride along friend.
Stop not, ascend! Stop not, ascend!

You have begun, an end in mind.
Put all your doubts away, behind.
Stay focussed on your goal defined
If stressed, unwind! If stressed, unwind!

Fear no hurdle and fear no bend.
'I can' is the message to send.
To your life, a new edge, do lend.
Start a new trend! Start a new trend!

Write a brand new story, your own. 
Trail blazer, go mark your own zone.
To failure all journeys are prone.
But never groan! But never groan!

See, soon success shall be your loot,
Then you will dance and play the flute.
See how others shall follow suit.
In your pursuit, in your pursuit!

The MonoTetra is a new poetic form developed by Michael Walker. Each stanza contains four lines in monorhyme (the lines have the same end rhyme). Each line is tetrameter (four metrical feet) for a total of eight syllables. The last line contains two metrical feet, repeated. There is no limit to the number of stanzas.
Stanza Structure :
Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated A4, A4

This MonoTetra has been written for One Single Impression prompt-129-beginning

Aug 15, 2010

The bug's life!

Survival a strife
Wicked spider weaves a web
Prey struggles for life

Aug 14, 2010

Orange Impatiens

Beautiful flowers in the gardens at Mahableshwar. Rain-drenched, refreshing orange petals....
Would love to know what these flowers are called..If anybody can enlighten me, please oblige! :)

Revel in the varied shades of the vibrant orange at here

Aug 12, 2010

Ek Cutting Chai

The most refreshing beverage I know Tea aka Cutting Chai. Served in short glasses at small stalls around Indian street corners, it's the most refreshing with a hint of Masala or Ginger added to it. You are to sip on this milky brew it, slowly, very slowly. And have the Aaahaaa experience!  Kadak!!!

To sample the world's favourite beverages visit here

Aug 11, 2010


Refreshing sweet
A welcome respite
From the scorching sun’s heat
Bowl full of nectar, a parched throat’s delight
Oh! Fruit of palm, come and appease. Hanging high above, please don’t tease
I doubt, like me there's another connoisseur. In my palm you are treasure
I thank you palms for this wonderful treat
Nectar-like, coconut water does beat
All juices clearly
Favorite always

Fibonacci poetry is a literary form based on the Fibonacci number sequence. The sequence begins like this: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. In order to find the next number in the sequence, you add the two preceding numbers. The sum of these two is the next number, which then is added to the one before it to get to the next number, and so on. This is how it works:
1 + 0 = 1
1 + 1 = 2
2 + 1 = 3
3 + 2 = 5
5 + 3 = 8
8 + 5 = 13
13 + 8 = 21
Fibonacci poems can embody the number sequence in two ways, either in numbers of syllables or in numbers of words. 
This Fibonacci Poetry has especially been written for The Theme Thursday

Do go ahead and visit those beautiful Memes and I promise you will discover a whole world of beautiful poets out there.

Aug 10, 2010


" Must you, like a fish, drink?"
She asks, her voice so feeble.
He cares less to stop and think.
His tongue slurs and mouth dribbles.
He seems an incurable addict.
With him, no future to predict!

No horoscope needed to predict,
His health failing with each drink,
He has succumbed, the addict.
With each sip he grows feeble.
Out of his hands life dribbles,
Still he cares not, to think.

It is very sad to think,
Unlike what the horoscopes predict,
To him, her protests are only dribbles.
More than her, he loves his drink.
Their bond too is growing feeble!
Life in vain with a vane addict.

Before her eyes, wastes the addict.
It’s time for her to think.
His chances of survival feeble,
Is what people predict.
She has to get him off his drink.
His gaping mouth on the table, dribbles. 

She smashes the bottle, it dribbles.
She almost abhors this addict.
“Give up this mephitic drink
It's time to wake up and think.
Before there's only death to predict”
She orders, not at all feeble.

 Answers he, " To fight I’m too feeble.
I see my life, away it dribbles.
Alas! There’s only death to predict,
For me, an addict.
My vice, this drink,
To give it up I cannot think!”

She insists, “ Make decisions that aren't feeble.
Know that, it’s but poison that dribbles,
From a bottle and you drink!”

This is a SESTINA: 
Is a highly structured poem consisting of 6 six-line stanzas concluding with a 3-line “envoi”, for a total of thirty-nine lines.Rather than simply rhyming, the actual line-ending words are repeated in successive stanzas in a designated rotating order. The prescribed pattern for using the 6 line-ending words is:
1st stanza 1 2 3 4 5 6
2nd stanza 6 1 5 2 4 3
3rd stanza 3 6 4 1 2 5
4th stanza 5 3 2 6 1 4
5th stanza 4 5 1 3 6 2
6th stanza 2 4 6 5 3 1
envoi 2--5 4--3 6--1
 The sestina dates back to the Middle Ages when it was adopted by the Italian poets of the Renaissance (Dante and Petrarch), and is often used by contemporary poets.

This Sestina has been written for the Three Word Wednesday prompt 

By Moonlight

Image from

In the fields Moonlight
Glades in beautiful highlight
Such romantic sight

Aug 9, 2010

Guest Post #7- By Divya V.

Its True...

I wasn't warned..
I wasn't told..
As what I will be seeing..
What the future will hold..

You were like spring..
That blossomed every bit of me..
And my vision was blinded..
'Cuz you were the only thing I'd see..

The moment it hit me..
Where my senses ditched..
That is when I realized..
I was hitched..

I miss you every moment..
I miss you everyday..
Its a sign, I tell you..
That keeps us at bay..

It kills me inside..
I'm dying every moment..
With every word of your's..
My heart makes a movement..

The tears have dried up..
And I have nothing more to show..
Your hands were a little late..
To wipe what had to flow..

My heart is burdened..
With my love for you..
It comes out in pain..
In the form of dew..

I'm sick of this pain..
What pricks is the secret..
But having loved you so much..
Is something I wont regret..

You're so innocently clueless..
And I'm so much in love with you..
Its not a lie, sweetheart.. 
Its true..

Do read more at by Divya V.

Aug 8, 2010

Guest Post #6- by Rumya Bhatt

My sis
Kith and kin
Happy days are here
May god bless you with years to blog
Appreciating and complementing your good work
Embellish each line and each verse
Photograph nature
Skies or bee
A line

Aug 7, 2010


Juhu Beach in Mumbai, Maharashtra, India.
 These bottles were lined up on display at a stall and this is the wide variety of flavours available to enjoy your GOLA. For the uninitiated, a Gola is an Indian ice-popsicle that is supposed to be dunked in a glass of juice and then eaten like an ice-cream. Believe me it is as tasty as it is colourful!

This is for the PhotoHunt 225. Check out other colourful photographs from around the world at TNChick.


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 13; the thirteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

February 1901-

In the small Midnapore district of Bengal in British India was born a little brown girl with intelligent beady eyes.
The mother used to work as a maid with the wealthy Mukhopadhyay family in their district. She had enjoyed listening to her mistress recite Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry, as she fanned her, one lazy afternoon. So when her own little brown daughter was born she knew what they would call her.
She would be Khanika, a beautiful girl rightly named after Tagore’s beautiful poetry.

“Eta Lakshmi Maa!”
Her family soon began referring to her as the goddess of wealth because no sooner had she arrived that The Railway Company came forward and offered jobs to the local unemployed men along with other additional incentives. Her family could dream of rising above the poverty line, finally. Construction of the bridge over the Kosai River was also completed by June 1901 and the Midnapore district was soon connected by railway lines.

Once little baby Khanika was wrapped tightly into a bundle, by her mother but soon the child had managed to free herself and was wailing away, flailing her hands about.
“Look! She’s waving her right arm like a flag.” Her granny had observed with pride. Little did the old lady know that her observation was, in fact, a prediction of sorts!

March 1917-

The mother continued to work with the Mukhopadhyay household and the mistress grew very fond of Khanika. At home, though a very bright child, Khanika was only the 5th daughter of her parents while the Mukhopadhyay’s house was full of sons. Thus Khanika’s talents were better appreciated over there and she was treated as one of the family members.

Surbhi Mashi, as Khanika was taught to address Mrs. Mukhopadhyay, took personal interest in her schooling and grooming. Khanika was pulled out of the village school after primary education and was soon attending The Hamilton School at Tamluk in a well-tailored uniform. Khanika had a bright future written in bold on her cards and that’s what everybody talked about when she passed through the by-lanes, back from school to the Mukhopadhyay Haveli into her Mashi’s arms.

Surbhi Mashi was everything a girl could ask for.
“Bauso!” She’d sit Khanika down before her on the queen-sized four poster bed. Skipping her own afternoon siestas she would lovingly take to oiling Khanika’s already quite neatly kempt hair, combing and braiding them into neat plaits. All the while she would be humming one or the other of Shri Rabindranath Tagore’s poems. The poems written in fluent Bengali appealed to the masses, especially to Khanika since she felt a great connect with them, for many reasons.

“What is the meaning of that?”
Khanika would butt in now and then and her interest always received a favorable response from her Mashi. She would lovingly oblige and explain the deep meaning and philosophy of the words woven together into a song. Khanika’s growing years were thus steeped in Rabindranath Tagore’s poems rich in Indian thoughts, Indian culture and Indian ethos.

“Have you seen Shree Rabindranath Tagore?”, the curious teenager had inquired with Mashi once.
Within the next fortnight she was initiated to the Eden-like gardens of Shantiniketan. Studying in the idyllic environs of Patha Bhavana was what shaped Khanika’s life.
The day Rabinranath Tagore had come to Shantiniketan and Khanika saw him from close quarters for the first time she ran all the way home and bursting into the kitchen, she’d almost deafened Mashi with,
“Se ese chilo! Se ese chilo!”
“So what if he’d come to Shantiniketan?” Mashi’s eldest son Shiben had tried to cut down the excitement in irrepressible envy.
“It was like a dream come true!” Khanika tried to explain the beauty of Rabindranath Tagore's personality in words.
“The smooth flowing beard and long silvery hair… that handsome and well proportioned face….
Oh Mashi! Gurudev has a large forehead, shining eyes and a shapely nose. Intelligence is written in every pore of his skin. He wears a long robe which reaches to his ankles showing only the slippers. His skin was of the colour of ivory. Every inch of him emanates his love and compassion. His calm appearance makes him look almost like a RishiMoni, a sage!”

April 1919-

Khanika heard her Mashi’s perturbed voice inquiring of Mr. Mukhopadhyay,
“Kagoz te ki lekha aachche?”
It was all over the newspapers.

In one of the streets of the Punjab city of Amritsar, an Englishwoman had supposedly been molested. The local commander of the British Raj, Brigadier General Reginald Dyer, had immediately issued an order that all Indians passing through that lane had to crawl the length of that street on their hands and knees. He’d also ordered the indiscriminate public whipping of all natives coming within the British Policeman’s Lathi length. Following this the legislation placed restrictions on a number of civil liberties, including freedom of assembly, banning gatherings of more than four Indians.

On April 13, 1919, a multitude of Punjabis gathered in Amritsar's JallianWala Bagh as part of the Sikh Festival ‘Baisakhi’ celebrations and to protest against the extreme measures. 50 British Indian Army soldiers, under the command of General Dyer, opened fire without any warning on the unarmed gathering of men, women and children. The firing lasted for 10-15 minutes, until they ran out of ammunition. Official British Raj sources placed the fatalities at 379, and 1,100 wounded while Civil Surgeon Dr. Smith indicated that there were 1,526 casualties.

“I can only quote from Tagore’s Gitanjali , Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.”, said Surbhi Mashi sighing in resignation.

Mr. Mukhopadhyay recited yet another line from the Gitanjali,
“ Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might."

Khanika’s teenage blood was boiling with rage and the air was rife with patriotism.
Just then Shiben burst into the room wildly waving a copy of the weekly Young India and crying, “Gurudev has given up his knighthood in protest!”

Soon after, Gandhiji began The Non-cooperation Movement and Shantiniketan was not impervious to it!

August 1941-

In Shantiniketan, Khanika had not only obtained a degree but also acquired huge knowledge in various types of arts and cultures. She shone amongst all the students and was affectionately called Kanu by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore.

Khanika was immensely influenced by Tagore’s principles of life, views of education and patriotism. By the age of 40, Khanika was completely immersed in conducting adult education programmes in the surrounding villages and had also joined The Indian National Congress.

After ages she decided to visit her Gurudev at Shantiniketan one day but Tagore was unfortunately severly ill then. Nandababu who was taking care of Gurudev at that time told her,
"He is rather weak nowadays and receives but a few visitors. However he will certainly feel happy to see you."
Though her disappointment showed on her face, Khanika had immediately replied, “No, no. I do not wish him to waste his energy in talking to me.”
"Tell Gurudev," she said before leaving, "His Kanu is working towards fulfilling his wish. I am going to strive for winning back the country, not from the British, but from apathy and indifference. Gurudev as you’d dreamed our country will attain salvation for now it is truly pulsating with a passion for the recovery of our motherland. This time the British will have to say a final GoodBye to India! ”

Tagore unfortunately passed away on the 7th of August, 1941.
Khanika’s grief knew no bounds when she received the news, “Although Gurudev has sadly said GoodBye to this material world, his beauty, creative genius and excellence will continue to live through his work and will remain deep-rooted within the soul of his people!”

August 1942-

The Quit India Movement was launched nationwide in August 1942 in response to Gandhiji's call for immediate independence. This Independence Movement was a revolution empowered by the people of India to battle the British Empire and force them into giving India complete political independence.

The Quit India movement wasn’t a controlled volunteer movement like Gandhiji's previous movements and wasn’t conceived like a traditional Satyagraha. This time it was to be a 'fight to the finish', an 'open rebellion'. This was designed to be 'short and swift' and exhibited the capacity to plunge the country into a 'conflagration'. Foreign domination was to be ended at whatever cost.

Khanika ferociously led the procession of six thousand supporters, mostly women volunteers, with an aim of taking over the Tamluk police station in the Midnapore district. Taking over various police stations and government offices was a strategized step to overthrow the British government in the district. This would in turn contribute towards establishing an independent Indian state.

Khanika’s procession had reached the outskirts of the town when they were ordered to disband under Section 144 of the Indian Penal Code by the British Raj. The police began firing at the crowd again. Khanika continued to lead the procession from the north of the criminal court building even after the firing commenced. The police shot her three times and despite the severe wounds in the forehead and on both her hands she marched ahead!

She still kept chanting Vande Mataram.

A Bengali policeman of the British Raj came up to her and mocked at what he thought was utter stupidity, “Eta ki uttor?”

“Etai uttor!”, replied Khanika unperturbed and determinedly continued to advance with the tri-colour flag, leaving all the volunteers behind.

“You think the British are going to be scared of you?” he persisted to ask.

Though in excruciating pain, “Ha, nischoy!” was Khanika’s quick replay again.

Khanika bade a GoodBye very soon too but she had firmly laid the foundation to the fall of the British Raj. The population of millions of Indians had been motivated like never before to claim independence as a non-negotiable goal, and every act of defiance and rebellion from the British only reinforced the nationalist sentiment.

August 15, 1947-

India achieved complete freedom when the British Raj had to bid the Indian shores GOODBYE for good, leaving us singing Rabindranath Tagore's words with pride!
Jano Gano Mano Adhinaayako Jayo Hey,Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa
Panjaabo Sindhu Gujaraato Maraathaa,Draabiro Utkalo Bango
Bindhyo Himaachalo Jamunaa Gangaa, Uchchhalo Jalodhi Tarango
Tabo Shubho Naamey Jaagey, Tabo Shubho Aashisho Maagey
Gaahey Tabo Jayogaathaa
Jano Gano Mangalo Daayako, Jayo Hey Bhaarato Bhaagyo Bidhaataa

Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey, Jayo Hey,Jayo Jayo Jayo, Jayo Hey

Facts in the Fiction:

1. Construction of the bridge over the Kosai river was indeed completed by June 1901 and the Midnapore district was soon connected by railway lines.

2. The Tamluk Hamilton School in Midnapore is the oldest school in the district. This school produced a lot of jewels, but was made famous by Kshudiram Bose, the first martyr, who sacrificed his life to free the nation from the hands of British rule. He was a student of this school from 1900 to 1903.

3. The Jallianwala Bagh Massacre and The Quit India Movement

4. This story is largely influenced by the lives of Indian Freedom fighters Malati Choudhury and Matangini Hazra.

5. The 1942 Quit India Movement in Midnapur, Bengal was indeed led by local Congress leaders.

6. The local populace of the Tumluk subdivision of Midnapore were thoroughly successful in establishing parallel governments


Khanika: Moments

Eta Lakshmi Maa: This is Goddess Lakshmi

Mashi: Aunty (Mother’s sister)

Bauso: Sit Down

Se ese chilo: He had come

RishiMoni: A sage

Kagoz te ki lekha aachche? : What is written in the newspaper?

Vande Mataram: Hail to our motherland

Eta ki uttor?: Is this the answer?

Etai uttor!: This IS the answer.

Ha, nischoy: Yes, Definitely!

Jano Gano Mano: Oh! the ruler of the minds of people, Victory be to You, dispenser of the destiny of India!
Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, Maharashtra,Dravida(South India), Orissa, and Bengal,
The Vindhya, the Himalayas, the Yamuna, the Ganges,and the oceans with foaming waves all around
Wake up listening to Your auspicious name, Ask for Your auspicious blessings,
And sing to Your glorious victory.
Oh! You who impart well being to the people!
Victory be to You, dispenser of the destiny of India!
Victory, victory, victory to Thee!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Aug 6, 2010

Guest Post #5- By Meghana S

    The MonoTetra

Jpeg by bible_geek
I am walking down winding road 
Searching for the near perfect node
Exploring a humble abode
Life is a code.. Life is a code

Rain comes pouring down curvy lane
Don’t know if it’s a boon or bane
Although it makes me more insane
Love still remains.. Love still remains..

No matter if I win or lose
Have no time to indulge in blues
Reveling in life’s lovely hues
My soul’s enthused.. My Soul’s enthused..

The monotetra is a new poetic form developed by Michael Walker. Each stanza contains four lines in monorhyme. Each line is in tetrameter (four metrical feet) for a total of eight syllables. What makes the monotetra so powerful as a poetic form, is that the last line contains two metrical feet, repeated. It can have as few as one or two stanzas, or as many as desired.

Stanza Structure:
Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated; A4, A4

Aug 5, 2010


Club Mahindra Resort, Varca Beach, Goa, India.
Do check out more photographs of the outdoorsy world at Thursday Challenge for fun & learning.

Guest Post #4- by Ritu Lalit

Fashion & its Emosanal Atyachar

I have been a tomboy all my life. I can never remember myself playing with dolls, I always wanted books. I also liked to climb the trees in the neighborhood with a water bottle slung on the shoulder and a book tucked into the belt of my shorts, so that I could enjoy my book in relative peace and quiet. The problems I faced were many

1. A pesky and nosy brother

2. A mother who was very feminine

3. My own (rather unfortunate) tendency of losing myself in the book which led to two

sad fall outs

a) Me losing track of time which had the entire colony running search parties for me

b) Me losing my balance and falling down

Ma would treat me like her personal doll, her muse was Bollywood and at various ages, depending on the leading actress she liked, my attire and hair style underwent a change. I have sported front fringes like Sadhana, crimped and wavy hair or pony tails like Mumtaz and Sharmila Tagore, and she would have loved to iron my naturally wavy hair to give me a Zeenat Aman look. All I wanted was to go grunge like Joan Baez.

It was easy, all I had to do was finger comb my hair and wear a shirt and jeans. Our clashes could have rivalled the bitterest board room battles. Then mercifully I went to college and hostel. I heaved a sigh of relief and I suspect she gave up too.

Sigh!!!! I dont even know how to tie a sari, and have yet to master the art of applying eye make up. I guess if I survived 50 years without learning it, another twenty or so can also go by. Besides beauty parlours love me .... I have been known to go to them before any important social event, conference, office meet and get my make up done and saree tied.

Vibhuti asked me to do a guest post, and I wondered what to write. I remembered her profile pics on Facebook.
Vibz darling, Ma would have loved you. You are quite the fashionista, and I love your profile pics.
 Yup! All 75 of them :D, :P:.
What is more, the camera loves you.
 I am so in awe of you.
Keep smiling

Aug 4, 2010

C for Control

Cramps my style
Overseeing every move
No lesser than abuse
Terrible is hatred 
Resulting from domination
Oh! I'm no motor
Let me live, free

Aug 3, 2010

Guest Post #3- by Bikramjit Singh Mann

They say, love is quite enough reason for two souls to be tied in matrimony. It being a sacred and long lasting bond the person who’s being married should have the right to choose his/her spouse. In socially developed countries, it’s usual for people to fall in love and tie the knot. There are also cases of arranged marriage where the families assess each other and agree for the marriage. And then there are cases where matrimony is forced onto the bride and/or groom. When one or both parties are married without his/her consent or against his/her will it is termed as a forced marriage.

The practice of forced marriage was very common amongst the upper classes in Europe until the 1900s, and is still practiced in parts of South Asia, East Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. Forced marriages are done mostly for family pride, the wishes of the parents or social obligation. In India and Pakistan, a lot of such matches are made in hopes of getting a British citizenship for the spouses mostly women.
United Nations views forced marriages as a Human Rights violation as it abuses the mere essence of human freedom and autonomy of individuals. Forced marriages are often the seeds to acts of cruelty and torture. Women are inflicted with domestic violence at the hands of abusive husbands. Dowry death is one of the serious implications. Sometimes the married women try to escape from the clutches of such forced matrimonies and end up being killed by their family members where the murder is termed as an honor killing.

United Kingdom parliament passed an act in the year 2007 called Forced Marriage (Civil Protection) Act 2007 which aims to address to the victims of forced marriage or those threatened with forced marriages, with civil remedies.

A person threatened with forced marriage can apply to court for a forced marriage order. The court tries to prevent the forced marriage from taking place with any evidence it can get, or tries to protect a victim of forced marriage from its effects which may include measures such as confiscation of passport or restrictions on contact with the victim. The subject of a forced marriage order can be not just the person to whom the forced marriage will occur, but also any other person who aids, abets or encourages the forced marriage. A marriage can be considered forced not merely on the grounds of threats of physical violence to the victim, but also through threats of physical violence to third parties (e.g. the victim's family), or even self-violence (e.g. marriage procured through threat of suicide.) A person who violates a force marriage order is subject to contempt of court proceedings and may be arrested.

Also, there have been many cases where a person is lured to another country and forcibly married to the local of that country. In such cases, the marriage is considered null and void in UK. There are also provisions to extradite the spouse to whom the person is forcibly married to, for criminal proceedings.

Forced marriages may not seem to be creating ripples but they are strong catalysts which initiate lifelong chain reactions of other inhuman acts of domestic violence, physical and mental abuse, rapes, etc. Such acts of cruelty sometimes drive helpless women to even commit suicide!

It is high time that the Indian system awakens to this fact too and takes steps towards protecting the oppressed women in the Indian society. This post is with a wish that like in the UK, forced marriages will soon be treated as criminal offense and that Indian women will also recieve equal justice.

Aug 2, 2010

Life so colourless without you...



Born is a life anew

Into mumma’s safe arms

Rearing to grow

Treat to watch its charms

Hence, every year, celebration day

Does the road wind uphill

All the way

Yes, Yes, Yes

Prompt #64
The opening line of Christina Georgina Rossetti’s poem Uphill
Does the road wind uphill all the way?

Aug 1, 2010


The role of evolution.
The state of fruition.

Life altering change it brings.
Fly away butterfly!

Experimenting with Haiku. Can a Haiku poem be written in two stanzas? or is that a big NONO?