Words

From fresh roses in the lawn, To the aroma of deep frying. Ah! Fragrances remind me of merrier times... Washed cotton sheet on the bed, Trailing fragrance of Agarbatti in the house. Whiff of Liril talcum powder from Mom, Quick sniff of petrol from scooter, if Dad allows. What else could make home a better place to be? A jubilant celebration, a nostalgic potpourri! Royal scent of rose petals in Nimbu Paani, Aroma of Basmati Rice. Mouth watering tinge of dal fried in Desi Ghee, Freshly baked cake that doubles the appetite. Fragrances of home made cooking sets spirits free, A tempting invitation, a nostalgic potpourri! Aura of wet soil in the summer, Moth balls smell from winter clothes. Intoxicating scent from a new book, Chai made from cardamon-tulsi-cloves. A gush of aromatic emotions fills me, A jog down the memory lane, a nostalgic potpourri! Stench from tiny box of Cherry Blossom, Musty odor from damp shelves. No...

Few closed doors Reaffirms, never defy My hunger to excel  In cocoon, yearning to be a butterfly Half-baked wings Fluttering with hope I may fail, fail again Only endeavor is to stay afloat Nothing can weigh me down Far away from maddening hullabaloo Nearing my goal Taking a step or two Setbacks on the path Will arouse my thirst I'll rise from ashes I've witnessed worst Success - will not quench my hunger It will only multiply I just learned to flutter I will fly high *Image Source - Arpit Rastogi Photography

Dusky complexion. Messy hair. Short-rounded frame. Am I beautiful? Like many of you even I ask this question to myself many a times. And to be very honest with you, I think I am . In fact, during my growing up years I thought, I was very beautiful. Quite an overstatement and you will ask me why such over-indulgence? There were many girls in my class who were much more beautiful than me and some went on to become models. Then why I thought so? Well, after a lot of pondering, I realized, I equated my lack of height, abundance around mid-riff with my brightness, with my high scoring mark-sheets and my extra-curricular record. I generously compensated my lack of physical beauty with my other qualities and called myself beautiful. I believed… 'You are what you do, irrespective of your looks. If your work is beautiful, others will never judge you for being dark or fat.' I remember once when I was rejected for a school play and was shattered. Then I developed a theory t...

Clad, tucking pallu She covers her frame Under sun, in rain Beating the mundane She rose above her man When he cheated on her Earning bread, raising kids With spirits, undeterred Covers her dignity Albeit, a menial job A smile on her face Nudging toes at her own pace Content, without a man Efficacy, she possess Selling knickknacks on road side Not her flesh Unwanted advances Lewd remarks by men Unaffected, she remains Even when they condemn She is a hero Many would concur She sells sea shells Not her

I always thought schools and teachers are in shortage and books are in abundance. As a kid I always had more books than what I could read. Though all of it were text books, but surely, books were always more in supply. Sadly, this is not the case in reality. Watch the following video and you will find that we don't have enough books in India. Twenty kids have to share a single book as per statistics. Now, how can we expect children to read without books? And more importantly, how can we progress without education? And when I heard about Pratham Books' mission - A book in every child's hand , I felt it was a far fetched dream. When the government's way of luring the kids into schools with food and other laws are failing, how can they possibly achieve that mission? Also, as far as I remember, reading has never been that much fun. Then I dug deeper with sheer curiosity of how Pratham functions and how a book reaches a child. I must say, I was amused and I had fun...

Don't do it, Don't even try, Seasons yearned for it, What autumn just complied. Don't you tuck, Fallen hair behind... Till the spring blows a whistle. Till the summer harsh up a little. Or else, you may allow My fingers to tuck them in. To be close to those perfect lips... To feel the velvet of your skin... To sing a song into your ear, And light up the evening a bit. Then, let the body do the talking If only, you permit... Stepping close I wonder, Beauty so sublime. Speaking only with her eyes, She pauses time. *Aphrodite is the greek goddess of love and beauty. Reposting one of my favorite poems. **Image Source here

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