Haven it is !! 

This is the post excerpt.

So here I am. All set to post my first story. That is the thing about thoughts and words. They strangle you so much that you are forced to express the former with the latter. Its almost an ache…. An ache to open up something that has been tormenting you, hurting you, making you fall in love, lust or even hate for that matter. Something that has been simply there all this time, but has now found a significant place in your insignificant thought haven. 
Words!! ❤



News on the death of my roommate’s friend didn’t trigger any emotions in me expect some sympathy for my friend who knew him personally. We mourned with her out of custom and continued on with our daily chores until she narrated incidents about the boy; little insignificant things like his deep aversion for ice cream, how he swiped his hair, how he bit his nails when tensed, about his love life…. Within a few hours my heart had developed a connection to this boy whom you’d never known. Its as of you’ve known him for ages. Like he had spent a major portion of his life with you, as if you’d witnessed all the important incidents in his life. And I still can’t digest the fact that it kind of breaks your heart. This person, whom you’d never even heard of until today breaks your heart. 

That’s the thing about all of us. No matter how strong we pretend to be our hearts are still vulnerable. And this fragility is the very cure. It is a sign of how big all our hearts are and how it is accoustomed to connect with a hell lot of people, places, emotions and incidents even when you don’t want it to. Just like this boy I’d never known. 

Inky veins

The last time I wrote a poem;

Was it yesterday or the day before?

Or maybe someday even far away.

Had I wrote about people and life,

Or about love and the broken was it?

Was it to fill up my blog,

Or to caption a picture on facebook?

Whatever the verse was about,

And wherever I’d found my pen;

One thing sits habitual as day,

For the words that fill up its pallor

Are jotted by the ink in my veins.


Shoe Box 

Saturday afternoon is here,

And I, planned to dust my room;

With fairy lights hanging across the walls,

And memories hidden in cupboards.

And I did come across one,

This, hidden in a shoebox;

With trinkets and trivials of all kind,

And photographs hidden in the depth.

Faded and wet though they were,

From the dampness spreading in my cupboard;

Changing the smiling faces,

Into unrecognizable smudges.

And then amidst them I found,

Etchings of happier times;

Of smiles that mattered and smiles I missed.

Sighing, the shoe box was put away.

Dampness ate them, they said,

And tears were hot and damp.

Driving Lessons: A Memoir 

I remember the time I’d learnt to drive. My mom had come to the conclusion that my future husband will never teach me to drive and in order to achieve the so called self sufficiency it was mandatory that I learn to drive. 

And so there it was. My dad enrolled me in a driving school and paid up all the hefty amounts for the classes and the paperwork with constant monologues that he learnt to drive all by himself. Duh. And then it began. And as usual I idled around wasting still more of my dad’s money and monologues until it was finally the week of the driving test. 

It would be an overstatement if I told you that I was not yet clear about driving. The truth was that I didn’t know a thing. My parents brought me home from hostel so that I could have extra practice at the school. And they decided to accompany me so that I wouldn’t idle around any further. And that was just the start. Within the first few days me and my entire family turned out to be an utter embarrassment and nuisance at the driving school. Every time I tried to attempt the ‘H’ I had my mother shouting from the other side of the ground on how to turn the steering wheel without knowing how to drive. Or I had my siblings fooling around with the equipments. Or I had my mother asking unnecessary questions to the teachers.

Finally after all the extra classes and missed attendance at college I cleared the test. I still remember the faces of both my parents who’d locked my siblings at home to accompany me. I remember my dad missing days at the office. I remember him carrying my vanity bag around as I did the test. And I remember my mother’s tired face as she waited for me in the sun as I drove. It’s true that they try out things in the most embarrassing of ways. But I’ll tell you what’s worse. It’s when they don’t try at all.


Silver Linings Playbook

Ok. So I was late at watching it. And I know a lions share of you had already watched it and must think I’m crazy to post about this. But here goes.

The movie starring Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence and Robert DeNiro is a love story. And it is a normal love story that has dance and soccer. Loads of it😝. But what stands apart is the acting performance of the squad. You have a bipolar recovering Cooper and a depression recovering Lawrence whose done amazing jobs. No wonder she got the Academy Award for this one. Robert De Niro as Cooper’s dad brings forth a clear imagery of dysfunctional families.

Then, there is something else. Something more than love. It is the simple, easy fashion in which the movie makes you count your blessings and be thankful for what you have in life at the moment.