Showing posts from June, 2017

he made woman out of a girl

i loved a boy who knew nothing about prose his tongue got tied if i called another name for a rose his words were straight his thoughts crystal clear love so pure and acts sincere Only a folly he did that night held me by my waist very-very tight i scurried through my brain no words came out but my body was screaming ever-so-loud as a poet, you'd say i should know a perfect rhyme hell, it was neither the place nor it was time i turned into something better the moment he touched the curves i became woman from a girl and poet of a few words the waves came crashing like there was a tsunami inside if he'd left me that moment i would've died that night twisting-turning on my wrinkled bed sheet i felt different i felt complete *image source - here **posting a light romantic poem after ages

A walk down the Walmart aisle

‘It all started with a smiley,’ she said. ‘Smiley!’ ‘Yeah, a cute little smiley on the ovulation test. The one which shows your most fertile days,’ she clarified. We have been trying for two years then, casually. Nothing serious. We were young. 25 and a few months here and there. Then, just before holidays, I bought an ovulation test for myself. I picked it from the aisle in Walmart, close to the condoms section. I said, ‘gift me this for Christmas,’ and he agreed. Just like that. He agreed, picked a 10-count box and threw in the cart, along with sanitary pads and dental floss. I still remember. We laughed, made a few jokes and went to Roy’s home for dinner. It was there in the trunk of the car the entire evening. We picked it when we came back home. I didn’t use it that month. I was busy, very busy. ‘Hmmm… so you never get it wrapped and he didn’t place in under the Christmas tree,’ he joked. ‘No, no, no! He bought another gift for me and put that under the tree, ins

7 Things I Learned about Money from My Indian Dad

My grandfather was a farmer. My father inherited his property but in Himachal, the land is not very fertile to cultivate enough crop to provide well for your family. My father took a different course. He started working with a local explosive firm. He retired as Managing In-charge. He raised two children, gave them the best of education, multiplied his property and has enough to maintain his lifestyle. He is very modern in his approach but behind the desire to send his son to America for higher studies are core Indian money habits. My father taught us that to build a solid base we have to make the right choices. It is because of him that being in my early thirties, I am able to achieve what people dream for in their forties. The simple and easy-to-follow lessons I learned from my dad are: Deferring Pleasure for Long-term Goals For Indians, savings is next to religion. We try to save as much as possible. We even live below own means to save for future. But my father told me t


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We could've been 'us'

I wish I could go back to college and sit on the bench under which we held hands. I can still feel the tight grip of your bony figures. A squeeze so tight - it pained. I never told you to let it go. 'Pain was a bitter-sweet aspect of love,' I thought. Afterward, when I rubbed my sweaty palm on my jeans, the cold air ignited the passion instead of repressing it. That was my first brush with love - true, pure, naive, and intense. It made a woman out of a girl. I even longed for moments I never knew existed. But it's a shame I learned way too much. With time, I could tell when you wanted me or my body - when you cared and when you didn't. The world felt like a lonely place then! Love felt more bitter than sweet. We started fighting. We cursed. I even threatened to leave you in the lurch. Love became a liability. We dragged the relationship somehow. 'It was a mistake,' we concluded in the end. But you know what was the actual mistake? Saying and doi