Showing posts from January, 2015


Long ago in the kingdom of Fair Meadow , the queen of flowers lived in a beautiful palace filled with glittering butterflies and little fairies. They rested in Queen Rose's kingdom. They played and sang and danced. They zoomed in and out of rainbows, and sometimes, fell into warm slumbers in warm , fluffy clouds.Queen Rose was very happy to have these happy, little fairies living in her kingdom. The fairies kept order in the meadow, and everybody lived happily and peacefully. One summer, the fairies decided to take a holiday. All of them went to Blue Rain Forest to visit the pixies. This was when the trouble started.One day, Miss. Yellow Daisy went to the queen. She seemed to be in a foul mood. She bowed and said, " My dear queen, I can not tolerate it anymore. Tiny Tom Mouse broke into the glade again last night, tore the baby blossoms out and scattered them all over the ground." Miss. Yellow Daisy was quivering with rage. " The baby blossoms wre too young, and cou…


Dowry in its formal sense means "an amount of property or money brought by a bride to her husband on their marriage". 
It was an ancient custom, along with bride-price ('kanyashulkam', amount paid to the bride in marriage) that had been prevalent across ancient European, Greek, Russian and Asian cultures. 
Originally, Dowries were considered as an early division and payment of the daughters' inheritance.After this payment, the daughters could not exercise a right in the division of their parents' property after their death. Also, the dowry (money, estate, property etc) were in the name of the woman/bride and the husband or his family could not exercise an independent right over them without the bride's consent.

Unfortunately in today's world men have confirmed it as their birth right to be given expensive gifts and to have all their desires and whims satisfied at the hands of their fathers-in-law. And as has surprisingly always been the case, women becom…


Sitting here in the balcony, I can hear the Suprabhatam being played over the tree tops and terraces. A light , cool breeze is blowing. The sun has risen and flooded the whole sky with bright day-light.
akers of a nearby Vishnu temple. I wonder what his story is, why is he up at this early hour, at his age? Why is he walking back and forth on the terrace? Don't his joints hurt? Why hasn't he brought his grandchild up with him for company ? Summer vacation is going on, the child can enjoy a healthy walk with his grandpa instead of huffing and puffing down the street to catch the school bus.
The old man has stopped at the left end of the terrace. There is a Gulmohar tree in full bloom, next to the house. He's bending over and trying to catch hold of one of the higher stalks of the golden-orange flowers. He's plucked two think stalks full of the small, fragrant flowers. Now, he's walking across the length of the terrace to the staircase that leads downstairs into the …


Dear H,

The beautiful personal blog! I'm impressed. Since I learned that I was abnormal, which would be around age 6, I wasn't sure if i should go the vampire way or the fairy way. But since I've met you, there suddenly was created a sweet little nook between the two. Here live the folk that don't want to or can't cross into any one, fully solid culture. We belong here in the shades, my love, with the pixies and the elves and the dwimmer folk. I'm so happy, we've finally arrived here, and I hope to live here with you forever and for always, happily ever after, Mwah!



Long ago in the country of Zuma , there lived an old woman. She was deeply fond of sparrows and had built a bird haven in her backyard with little water pools, minature wood houses and sofy hay-filled cornices. She spent every morning and evening, out in the yard with her many winged friends--- feeding ,cleaning and singing. She picked her tunes from the sparrow trillings. One day a young girl of sixteen passing by the house heard this song and was entranced. She stood next to the wall listening till dusk fell and the old woman finishing her daily rounds went inside.
The girl thrilled with the melody and beauty of the song walked around to the front of the house and climbed the seven stairs up to the door. Holding the round brass knocker in her hand, she admired the intricate design of primroses along the edge. It reminded her of her own cottage--rose cottage it was called after her beloved mother. Her lovely and kind mother who sacrificed herself to save Miriam and their village. -- T…


AIRPORT : INDIA - POEM People travel
up then down
swarming in over crowded planes
glass beads, tie-dye tees
pampers and rice crispies
landing in hyderabad, India
temperature 25° centigrade
people wonder if that's 75 in normal grade
a child cries out
because Kinley is out Indian water, oh choleric fate.
People straining their necks from the aerobridge
surely a swaying Cobra, a fleeting bengal tiger
should them in sweet thrill freeze
India of babas and snake charmers
Entertainers and beggars
stunned and red they stood
a mistake a mistake!
detoured to Heathrow?
to JFK?
Rajiv gandhi? Gandhi?
the naked, starving man?!
Dreams of wildebeasts and beastly men shattered.
They sail down escalators.
glassy eyes and slackened shoulders and disappointed souls.
Sorry, my good fellows
We tried to be poor and degenerate
believe me, our leaders' efforts were great.
But we resiliently rose up and developed
East turned west
east disappointed west
Now, they have nowhere to run away to
no magic, mys…


Dear H, 

I really, really miss you a lot. When I spoke to our friend James today, a lot of memories came flooding back. We had just met and hit it off, I had a couple of courses in your class, and we always sat together. You won't know this, but I was going through a rough patch, nothing as bad as now, but quite bad in its own right.  I remember sitting in the back and crying uncontrollably and silently while my classes were going on. but when I sat with you in some classes, I felt better, you were there to hold my hand through that pain. and because I had your support I felt stronger, and slowly started rising out of the blues. remember the time we went to this restaurant, and saw James across the lobby talking to someone, I had you to rant into. and you always let me blow off my steam. i was very happy that I was in your company; that I had someone I could call my own, my very own. 
I can not believe my luck that I found you at such an unlikely turning and age. Usually people don&…


There is something I don't understand. This is your life . It belongs to
you. You are responsible for it.
So, when our life belongs to us why don't we have the right to take it
away, why cant we end it and start a new life?? After all, the soul is
immortal,right? why then is it a sin to end it and start a new chapter
when we please? 

All our religious books say that committing suicide is unnatural. They
say that if we end this life on our own due to difficulties we think we
can't face ; then our new life will be a continuance to this . We shall
again be born in the same sad environment in which w ended the previous

My question------- Why is this so?

How can suicide be unnatural when everything takes place according to
god made laws. We are all mere toys----- puppets. God makes us do
everything he wants whether we like it or not. God knows everything and
his consent is necessary for even a leaf to fall. Then, this means that
he knows about suicide. He wants it to happen , otherwise…