Fake Identity

A fake smile, a fake hug, all to please people,
There are times we fake even a dimple,
Just to belong to a bracket of society,
All this with a wide fake generosity.


A fake hello, a fake nod of acknowledgment,
All made up for other person’s enjoyment,
At the cost of one’s heart bleeding,
Just to show them of our belonging.


Was it the raindrops on your face, in the rain,
Or was it a teardrop that I saw, when you stood in the rain,
You were always good at faking happiness,
When all what was happening in your inside was sadness.


Tear away the mask you wear so often,
Put out your real face, let it not become an orphan,
Do you have to cover up your life with a veil,
For don’t you too want to simply sail?


Is it the people’s judgment you fear,
Is that why the mask of well being you wear,
Fear not, I hear the voice inside,
But its the exact opposite I feel outside.


Will you let me inside you, if not others,
Let me wipe the tears away with peacock feathers,
Be true, to me, your ownself with dignity,
For once, drop away your fake identity.



Do you believe in love at first sight? I for sure didn’t; till the day I met him. I still remember the day I saw him, Lo! There he stood all of a sudden, just 10 to 15 feet away from me. I saw him first, and couldn’t take my eyes away even for a second. But fearing the crowd who stood with me in the bus stop, I looked away only to return my glance at him with out anybody noticing . This went on till he noticed me. I stood stuck to the ground for sometime. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I forgot, everything around me, why was I there in the first place? Everything went out of focus except me and him. And our eyes locked with each other.

Slowly he started to walk towards me. And I started to shiver from head to toe, no – nobody would notice that shivering, as it happened inside me. I wondered what to do if he came near me. Should I just avoid his glance, and look away as if I was not interested. Oh no! My heart didn’t agree to that; for I longed for him as much as he longed for me or more. He was nearing, I was shivering. And then he came and stood beside me and looked at me with eyes full of love for me. As if he was declaring his dedication and profound love for me with his eyes. Tell me which girl in this world can resist that.

I too couldn’t and didn’t think twice, I scooped him up in my arms, unmindful of people around me. To hell with all of them and the society. I am his, and he is mine, I decided.


By then, he had started to lick all of my face and hand, and was uncontrollably shaking his tail and shivering with excitement. Without even thinking twice, I called him Cadbury, for he was chocolate brown in colour, my very own Indian Mongrel breed puppy. It was love at first sight for both of us.



Role Reversal – A Short Story

Lily had gone to visit her office assistant’s wife who was admitted for a minor surgery in the Government aided hospital. That is when she saw that girl, who must have been around 10 to 12 years of age. The girl had a small little parcel in her hand. And she ran up the stairs, knocking down who ever came in her way. She almost knocked her down too. The automatic reaction of Lily, was to shout after the rushing kid, asking her what was the rush. Lily heard a ‘sorry aunty’ from the top floor above her, the kid’s frail voice drifting away.                              IMG-20180124-WA0001
When Lily came after two days, to the hospital to check on her office assistant’s wife, as she was genuinely concerned about them and being not much educated, they leaned on her for interpretation of doctors medical instructions. On the entry gate, she saw a small van like vehicle with it’s dicky open and lot of parcel’s were being distributed to those who were assembled near the vehicle. On enquiry to the security of the hospital, she got the information that every noon and evening free food were distributed among the poor attenders and inmates of the hospital.                           IMG-20180124-WA0007
And that is when Lily saw that small girl a second time. Her little frail body wriggling into the already accumulated crowd. Somehow the girl managed to snatch a parcel from the distributing man and she took off on her feet ready to knock down anybody who came on her way.                             IMG-20180124-WA0003

Curiosity got the better off Lily . And she followed the little girl, trying to match up to the speed of the tiny little feet which just took off with a mission.                              IMG-20180124-WA0004

     Lily almost caught up with her as the little girl ran into the general ward. And Lily saw her approaching a bed in the corner of the general ward, where a woman was lying down.                                IMG-20180124-WA0005
And what Lily saw next brought tears to her eyes. The girl sat beside the woman and opened the parcel she had brought, and started to feed the woman on the bed. Lily became rooted to the spot where she stood.                         IMG-20180124-WA0006
Lily casually asked the nurse who crossed her, about the girl. The nurse answered “Oh! That’s Anu and her mother, they don’t have anybody else to call their own, so Anu takes care of her mother, and feeds her. Anu’s mother had a tumour in her brain and after the operation, the right side of her body became paralyzed. Now Anu is taking care of her mother’s needs as and how she can. She runs all the way to the food van and back as she knows that is the only food her mother can get. Anu takes care of her Amma, as if she is the mother and not the other way around.
As Lily slowly walked away from the ward, the picture of the daughter feeding the mother stood in front of her eyes and her lips muttered ‘Child who became a mother to her own mother.’


Somewhere far, deep down, I lost myself,
My real self, my inner most true self,
I lost me along with my self esteem and my entity,
My existence is a mere truth, sans my identity .


Did I loose myself, in the deep dark woods,
Or did I leave myself in the thick dense forest,
Or was it in the middle of all the falsehoods,
Pertaining to the society’s deep down dark secrets.


Where ever it was, I  couldn’t find myself,
I searched everywhere, except deep inside oneself,
Should I ask, someone else to look for me,
Or Should I, just take a peek within me.


Slowly, I took a minute to inhale a deep breath,
Then dived inside myself, to get a view,
And Lo, I saw all curled up, all twisted and Oh so blue,
I found myself, Somewhere far, deep down underneath.


Come with me I said, and she shook her head,
What was that she was scared of on this earth,
I didn’t force her to leave her hiding place henceforth,
I stayed by her, With her close by me, loosing her I dread.


Will I ever come out, feeling alive, back into the world,
I want to, but only with my self esteem along with me,
I will come back, along with my self identity and all it’s entity ,
With head held high and with the same walk, Oh so bold!








Tribute To A Month’s Completion


Today, a month ago I took my first step towards online blogging. I published my first ever post in WordPress. From then on, it has been baby steps forwards. My heartfull thanks to all those who liked my posts and all those who are following my blog. All these encouragements have helped me to carry on.

        In one way blogging has helped me to scribble more in terms of writing to my heart’s content. Not putting a full stop to my flowing thoughts and to make it as a glowing reflections in my blog. Any action, at any station of life’s  ongoing journey became an inspiration for communication. An intrapersonal communication turned out to be an interpersonal communication between me and you the readers.

          Writing is like a mother in labour, desperate to give birth to the words forming inside the mind. Once the labour pain starts, all what the mother wants to do is, to push, and bring the baby out, in to the world. The same way a mind full of thoughts are in a hurry to bring out the words formed inside us, in to the world.


          My liking towards writing was a responsive reaction of my reading habit from days young. Earlier day’s reading, helped me to form free flowing thoughts without interruption, but it took more effort to pen those down. Writing is a craft inbuilt, which when encouraged and nourished in the proper form flourish and give it’s fruit, that is beautiful by nature. As a person who never had the habit of maintaining a diary, any paper in front of me became a canvas for me to note down without inhibition. But saving up those tid bits, chronologically never crossed my mind. But this platform gave that a chance, and more.
When life gives a second chance, grabbing that and paving a way with it, is the wise choice. And words in any form of writing in my life was given a second chance to be documented and thus liberated. So marching across, here I coss a month of my new found liberation of sharing my thoughts and views through these posts in my blog. Once again ‘Merci’ to all ‘Mon Amies’ . ‘Au revoir’ till we meet again in the next post.

If I Were …..!


If I were a bird, I would fly away,
To an island far away,
Far from these worry and bruises,
To a land full of merry and cruises.


If I were a horse, I would gallop all the way,
Far from this maddening crowd, and it’s bay,
From these memories which hunt,
And the ghost of the past which haunt.


If I were a fish, I would swim across
Crossing over all these carcass
To an all together different horizon,
Where a new life so beautifully beckon.

If I were all these above, and I meant the core,
I would have done all this and more,
But I am just who I am, so I ought to shine,
In this little corner, in this world of mine.


A world through my window

Her favourite spot was her window near her bed. It’s her comfort zone. Every time her heart sank like a sand dune, she resorted to her window sill, and looked beyond the accumulated fog, as if somebody will come to rescue her, some where from the midst of the dense fog. Tearing away the density of the fog, she expected, a hand to reach out, during her lows.

Every happy moment of her’s was spent in her happy zone of her window, she sang to her heart’s content staring out of the window, as if somebody was, on the other side yearningly listening to her. Sometimes she laughed at herself, and at the  fabrication of her imagination. Yet she had to admit she loved every bit of it.

Every morning of hers, started with the bird’s calls to her, or at least she believed they sang to wake her up. Funny, isn’t it? In this era of waking up to alarms in the mobiles, she had her own personal alarm, selectively snoozing away for a while and then calls out to her again. The first thing she does after opening her eyes, is to turn her head automatically to her window, as if heart in heart she wishes, good morning to some body on the other side.

She loved to look out through the window, looking beyond all the mist and fog, slowly clearing away; thanks to the shining sun. The sun light playing peak a boo with the last existing adamant bits of fog. She went beyond all that to see a world only her eyes could see. A world in she and her selective imaginary characters existed, some times to be interrupted by the people who existed in her real life. She preferred reel life to her real life. At least there she was a free bird not tied down with the real world’s realities.

Fantasy, some times helped her to be in a sane mode, delaying her slipping away into an insane dilemma of; to exist or not to exist. Life was always full of opportunities, and her window of opportunities was very much in her bedroom. She was thankful to the window in many ways, when she went blank in her mind, she just laid down and stared through her window , and she felt comforted and fulfilled at the end of staring outside for sometime.

For since she could remember, her bedroom window was her only friend, from the time her legs gave away and she was stuck to her bed, her window opened up to her a whole new world. A world which only belonged to her, where she soared into heights and ran against the winds tearing against the fog. Her window was her world. Welcome to her world through her window.