Writers' Choice

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In the event of writing something, I chanced upon Nostradamus the hero of quite a few centuries. For yon and yon people have wondered what their past would be like. When some wonder what will work out for them there are dolphins and men in war already lying in a pool of blood. Whither are you folks. I’d like to ask when the WTC or the Tsunami hit? In a mall, in a pub, in function r busy doing charity work or writing articles like me? It’s not your fault. So many things are happening simultaneously and we do no have hold over the situation! Some of you will say that is none of our business! What are the politicians, volunteers and NGO’S doing? We should take responsibility for whatever has happened. Just as wheezing doesn’t come to someone out from the blue but over a period of neglecting one’s own health, prone to cold, so also disasters strike when we fail to look into what’s happening and what has been our contribution for the same. Cutting prices landed some in the malls, box office...

Few people in this world are crazy. Not all. These are the people who do not crave for appreciation. No matter how much praise they receive they feel inadequate, not that enough praise has been showered on them, but, they feel they deserve less. However, clandestine is the feeling, they still are better off than those who do not receive any praise at all. It is this aspect that can easily make them gullible to those who are social and more fortunate than them. Be it in terms of better pelf and position, better societal disposition etc etc. It is this that attracts this category of these crazy people. Let me give them a name. Say CP (Crazy People). Now, the other category, say FS (Fortunate Socialites) gives CP's a chance to mold them in the fold of the present ‘gen’ mentality. (This category however do this out of choice and no to exploit a CP financially).They show their concern in more ways than one that easily brings CP’s to believe that FS are their true friends. Even lo...

The leaves of the sal tree ruffled in the winter morn. Shaking the very vibrations of my thoughts of the past. The number of leaves reverted me back to the present moment. Nature in relation to man. The tree has been standing there in the field in front of our local Meghdoot Club for over more than 30 years now. I still remember the smell of the wet soil , the scattering of the seeds in autumn and brotochari and go- as- u- like, all at one go. It has become my diary . I used to wear men’s wear when it was not in vogue during those times. Playing football and cricket waxed my childhood dreams of becoming an Olympic Champion. Riding my father’s scooter with my brother was enthralling and the tree witnessed it all. Even my father’s death. I was very young then, when he died. My father was my favorite playmate, guardian, parent. The sound of the scooter when on his morning duty found me rushing to the window to bid him goodbye and equally receiving ...

In Conversations with God Part III, God said that all our souls are like buildings where we are individuations on the present past future continuum. Each room has the same air but take up different characteristics and that is how it is with people. They are but us, appearing to be different due to our illusion of separatist feelings. I don't know whether I've put it correctly or not, but I've already made up my mind who represents which room. My mother and my sister bedroom.....for I would allow no one else there. Ipshita - Puja Room, Savita- Library, Sita-Locker, Priya- Drawing room and Art room, Shanku - Art room. Shalini and Vasantha- Playpen. Mahadev Sir- Computer room. Here I'd take Shanku as well. Choton- Penthouse. Mashimoni- drawing room. Meshomoshai - outhouse, Harsha- Terrace room, Suma ma'm- Art Room. Arunima ma'm- Study room...Yukti- Dance room, Janu- Swimming Pool,Moumita, Madhurima, Shreya, Ahana, Bandana, Soham, Ruchita, Gairik - corridor. Shanti-...

I was on my way by train to the Bangalore City . The day was fine. Eagerly awaiting my arrival at home and bringing home pictures in my mid. At last I was free from the cage…. I was alone post Bangalore Cantonment. Reached for the subway and arrivd at th bus station. My throat was dry. It would be a log journey. Pleasantly a couple attracted my attention in the BIAL bus. Ashish Rai … I saw the name on the file on his lap. He was talking to a lady who probably thought that she was the prettiest woman in the world. Dressed in a pink kurta Patiala she wore matching ornaments to give her that pinkish effect which men secretly crave for. The man, Ashish went to the front of the bus and secretly watched the girl on the rear view mirror. What chemistry!!! Each one trying to impress the other by their outlook. How much of genuine interaction worked under the veneer of their best outfits, I wonder. A model or so thought was the next inmate . She had fat but she had...