"I read the headlines, I see the hard times 
I wonder if we'll survive 
But I know there's no worries 
With just one look in your eyes 

I work 40 hours to bring home a dollar 
At times it barely keeps us alive 
But I know there's no worries 
With just one look in your eyes 

With just one look in your eyes I see 
Someone who believes in me till the end 
Through thick & thin 
With just one look in your eyes I know 
No matter how far down I go 
You lift me up, up, again 
With just one look in your eyes 
One look in your eyes 

So I make you a promise, when it rains down on us 
We'll always have blue skies 
I know there's no worries 
With just one look in your eyes

With just one look in your eyes 
I know there's no worries 
With just one look in your eyes"
(Lyrics of With One Look in Your Eyes)

When the display picture on my Gtalk turned to a cropped pic of my eyes, I got such amazing compliments :) [Vanity is my vice]
What do eyes tell you? Do they tell about me? Or can you see what your soul reflects? I feel we all can see what we want. I can see sadness, happiness, fear in the same pair of eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul. 
What is it about eyes that make it so special? Do they truly never lie? Do they really reflect the soul?
Answers to this I truly may never know. But, I think the reason eyes are special is because,
"There is a road from the eyes to the heart which doesn't pass through intellect." -G. K. Chesterton

P.S: I have tried very hard not to cite research from my psychology text !!! :) Hence, it seems abrupt!
Prompt from: HoT


Arises slowly from the ashes,
The smoke from the coal
The orange, red flashes,
Arises slowly from the ashes,
Of the fire and smoke clashes
Giving my soul some console,
Arises slowly from the ashes,
The smoke from the coal.

Everything charred by the smoke,
All around covered with soot.
Beyond recognition, like in a cloak
Everything charred by the smoke,
Things stir, I choke
Everywhere,I look or my step I put
Everything charred by the smoke,
All around covered with soot.

Attempted at OSI

This form of poem is called a Triolet. Learnt it here

Also submitted to Monday Poetry Train.

Thanks Prats, for always exposing me to new forms :)

Pain is addictive

Attempted at Acrostic Only. The prompt is Pain Is Addictive.

This is about Self-Injury. The less I say about it, the better it is. However, I found this first hand experience about it and it does speak volumes of it.

Part of me, it is now.
An indestructible part,
Indifferent, I have become,
Nonetheless, to your presence.

I am no longer me.
Slave to pain, the feeling of being alive.

Alive from the passive death.
Death, the slow death from the pain
Death, unlike the death of my happiness.
It is not unlike the blood flowing from a
Cut on my arm. Painful. But
Therapeutic. It screams aloud,
"I'm alive!" Unlike my broken heart
Veins throb. I revel in 
Elixir of life: Pain.

After hours

He: We lost 4-1. 4-1!! I'm not going to work tomorrow. 

She: Haha! Don't be stupid now. I bet they made an earnest effort but well you guys do suck.

He: Yeah. That's what I'll have to listen to all day tomorrow. Maybe all week. I work in an office filled with Gunners and Blues.

She: Come on. Its ok. Just their 2nd defeat. They'll come back.

He: How was your day? Didn't you have their HR meeting today?

She: Yes. That was fun. HR came up with a fun activity for a change.

He: Not all HRs are bad. I'm pretty good at it.

She: I bet, darling. So, today our team had to sit down and think of an object that we can identify with the other person.

He: That is interesting. You were?

She: Maggi Noodles...

He: Haha.. Seriously? 

She: Dependable and Reliable. Low maintenance.

He: Low maintenance? Do they know you?

She: Well, not as well as you do!

He: Smart.

She: You would say I'm..?

He: Hmmmm... (a long pause)

She: I'm waiting... 

He: A chemically reactive substance.

She: Excuse me..

He: Yeah. The unstable chemical element. That has many layers. Many stages before it finally reaches stability. What it touches doesn't remain itself. It changes. Maybe good. Maybe bad. But it changes. Like you changed me for life. You've scarred me. *smirk*

She: In a good way?

He: Maybe.

She: Sly. It is ok to compliment once in a while.

He: (yawn) yeah. I know.

She: I think you should sleep now. Gnite. See you tomorrow? 

He: Yes. Same time. Same place. Sleep well.

Attempted for 3WW: (Words were Earnest, Reactive, Layers)

Love v/s Arranged

This is post is basically my 2 cents on the entire love v/s arranged marriage issue. I read it on a fellow blogger's post of how love and arranged marriages both have pitfalls. Obviously nothing is perfect. Neither love nor a relationship.

For me the difference between love and arranged marriage is the difference between practicality and idealism.

Love is ideal. It sees everything with rose-tinted glasses. Everything is perfect. Nothing is bad. He is cute. She is beautiful. Life is one happily ever after fairy tale.

An arranged marriage is the other end of continuum. It asks what will you provide for the family? Will you understand me? Will take care of my needs, my wants? What is your salary? Prospects?

Yeah, I know this is black and white. But look around you. How many couples in love survive college and the hard life ahead? How many couples getting into an arranged marriage can truly say they are in love like they were with their college sweethearts?

Sorry, maybe things around have made me a cynic. These wouldn't be my words a year back. Now, this is what I believe in.

In life, we can't get the best of both worlds but we can try. Give the love of your life some time to prove themselves. People change drastically when pushed into the hard life. Let them find themselves and then decide if you still love the person they have become. When deciding to marry a stranger, see if you can see yourself loving this person for the rest of your life.

I, for one, have been blessed that I can actually make this decision. Most people have to just go with what their parents decide. Sometimes, I wonder would it be better if I didn't have a choice?


Nothing would change
Everything would be the same
Equals we would be
Just as always,
Forever it would be.

The calls stopped
So did the emails.

Left at the crossroads,
Wondering why did I ever trust?
Friends we are not, never can be
When a heart breaks,
It doesn't break equal.

You got a bigger piece,
And a  little bit of me.

Prompted at OSI

Of Martyrs, Mumbai and Me

It is been 78 years since 3 great men were sent to gallows for the billion existing today. We owe our freedom and the ability to breathe in open air to these and other countless others. But truly, do we value their sacrifice.

(Edit: I was trying to find a link to actually explain who those 3 men are to the clueless ones. Not one link available for 2009. Has everyone truly forgotten Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev? After the spurt of movies on them , has their commercial value waned or disappeared altogether?)

Today, when I look back, I wonder if these men regret their decision. Did they truly give up their lives for THIS apathy, this indifference?

What does freedom mean to you and me? What is the cost of one life? What is the value of that ONE vote? 

Close to nothing. Freedom means nothing because we were born with it! One life means nothing because we have seen countless lives end with one bomb. Not once but over and over again. That one vote means nothing because according to us, it has no power. 

We all recoil into our shells like tortoises. We all bury our heads into the sand like ostriches. We fail to realise that danger lurks irrespective of whether we see it or we hide. 

If we fail to remember, we fail to appreciate those who gave up their lives for us, I wonder what the life of that common man means? Of what value is it? 

I saw Mumbai Meri Jaan yesterday (finally) and realised one thing. We all have different reactions to violence, to terrorism. But with time it fades. Madhavan with his chronic fatigue syndrome, Soha fighting the loss of a dear one and the "news" (read: mockery) everyone is making of her pain, Kay Kay Menon with his prejudice , Paresh Rawal and Kadam (I think his name was in the movie) fighting with themselves about feelings of helplessness, EVERYONE moves on. Those who lost someone will remember it and then MOVE ON.

When will we learn persistence? This happens, but it SHOULDN'T.

This isn't a test of patience. We are losing lives here. When will this issue become of prime importance? 

Maybe, I'm reading too much into it. But, in the movie, when everyone stands still for 2 mins of silence and then moves on. That exactly what Mumbai does : gives itself 2 mins to bleed and mourn and then no more. One life, one thousand lives mean nothing when there are a billion people to cater to. A billion people to take their place.

(Btw, I love this one line from the movie where Paresh Rawal says, " Yeh log nahi peeyenge toh Mumbai mein spirit kahan se aayega." When he sees how rich folks are still drinking and enjoying even after the serial blasts)

These lyrics just seem so true now : 
Kahin building kahin traame, kahin motor kahin mill Milta hai yahan sab kuchh ik milta nahin dil


Not every memory is special,
Only the times that I
Spent with you.
The thunderstorms, the cold or
Azure, warm sky
Leave my lashes moist.
Ghosts of the past, whisper
Is the same you that
Allured life into me?

Prompted at Acrostic Only

Ripped Passport

Attempted at Weekend Wordsmith

Today, I didn't want to leave. My baby girl was in a playful mood. I didn't want to leave her. Her cute little smile. It seemed it was just yesterday that I had got in from my business trip. It was OK when it was just me.  Now I had her. I hated leaving her with my mother and go. But I had to work for her. Our future. 

She looked at me with her big brown eyes like she wanted to say " Don't go,please."

"Oh baby girl. I have to. Don't hate me," I said aloud as I heard the door bell ring, "Nana is here to take care of my baby doll." 

I went down and let mother in. As I chatted with mother and go into the room, I realised with alarm that my passport was in Ani's hands. Now, my baby is that stage where she needs to tear everything, put everything in her mouth. I tried to cajole her into giving it back to me. She just wouldn't listen. She just kept looking at me, teasing me. 

Suddenly, she just ripped it apart. Now, it was time for my eyes to widen. My meeting, my work, all gone. How would I explain it to my bosses? 

I would lose an important account. Mother calmed me down. I made calls and explained the situation. My boss was surprisingly understanding and said that she herself would take a later flight and take care of it. 

She said that she understood what it meant to be a single mother.

I smiled at my baby girl and wondered if this was her ploy to make me stay. Anyway, I was happy for the day off. I spent all day with her in my arms. That smiling face gave me joy that nothing in the world could give. Not the riches. Not all the meetings in the world.

All in all, I was very happy for the ripped passport!


This is what I wrote for WL.. 

Then the tide came in. With waves as big as her itself. She sailed on courageously. But she was no match for Tsunami that the tide brought in. She broke into a million different pieces. Pieces of her were scattered in lands far and wide. Some parts of her, the tide carried away with him.
Last I saw her, she was picking up the pieces to join herself back. "I won't be the same," she said to me, "I'll be new. Maybe better? Definitely something stronger!" She said with a smile oh-so-divine. She maybe safe in the harbour but her love lies in the tide, the same tide that destroyed her once. Sail away to your love, to your true calling.

After I wrote it, a lot of people asked me what it was was about. I tell here. This blog has seen me rant about a lot of stuff. Most significant events of my life have been converted into stories of fiction. I've been hurt (no, not in love) but at work. People I trusted misunderstood me. Maybe they never wanted to understand. I gave in and I broke down. It hurt tremendously that my efforts went in vain and some innocent kids that to pay the brunt of me giving up. But if I hadn't I would have lost myself. (This is the story of that time of my life. I gave it the time of a love story but it was my life)

I had lost strength. The ability to trust myself. It has been more than a year since. Now, I have gathered strength back. Now, I'm going back to my tide. Well, not to the same people who hurt me. Because I do have self respect. But I'm going back to work. I'm going back to my children. I'm going to now MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

Smile please...

Ubiquitous seemed the gloom,
Inevitable seemed the doom.
Along, you came with your flair
Pushed away all the despair.
Naturally came hope,
Problems were easy to cope.
Because you, a smile, I wore,
Life was a burden no more.

This is a dedication to my sweet friend Leo (Vinay, Vinu). When I told him that I was not feeling ok, he wrote me this. (It is an acrostic so see the first letter of each line)

Means a lot to me
Your friendship

Feel you're there
Really by my side
In gloom or cheer
Every moment
Not forgotten
Dear baby you are

Radiant when u smile
Awesome when u write
Star always to me
How I wish I was
In your heart Always

Pray I do
Love you a lot
Ever if i stop
All that would mean
Still everything would stand
Even God would laugh

Say he would indeed
My dear Vinu, you
Indeed will have your wish
Love her till your last breath
Even from heaven u can see her

Oh yeah, it spells "My Friend Rashi, Please smile." Isn't he the best? 

This is my entry to 3WW. Words this week were : Ubiquitous, Natural and Burden


As I bid goodbye to you, 
I wonder if its a farewell.
I take a step closer,
Kiss you on your cheek
And turn around 
To hide my tears-
A futile attempt.

I want you to not leave,
A desire I keep hidden
In the depths of my heart.
I want to run away.
It hurts to see you go
Will you miss me?
I wonder.

I walk with you to check-in
Like on auto-pilot
Emotions overpowering
Mind whirling,
Thoughts running wild
Voice caught in my throat
Hands numb.

Finally, it is time
For the one final hug, 
Tears dried, muscles frozen.
You take my face in your hands
"This ain't farewell, just a 
See you later". I smile and
Whisper back, "See you later, alligator"

At One Single Impressions, the prompt was given as Farewell. Just that word sparked so many memories and out of those memories, I wrote this. I have so many poems, write ups inspired by that one series of incidents that I wish I compile it all and make a book. It would be perfect. But then, who would buy?  :P 


At Acrostic Only, this week's prompt is COURAGE. These are my poems for it:

Conquer fear, I do
Overcoming pain of
Untoward dangers.
Raging to slay
Anyone in the way. 
Gentle spares life. From him
Emerges benefit.

Cowardice, I know not.
Of Fear, I care not.
Unrelenting is my thirst of
Reaching and dispensing the worst.
Ageless is my valour
Gentle spares life. From him
Emerges benefit.

I know I have kept the last 2 lines the same but then I liked them a lot... It is borrowed from a line in  Tao Te Ching which says "One of courage, with audacity, will kill. One of courage, but gentle, spares life. From these two kinds of courage arise harm and benefit."  I really liked this explanation that courage is derived from love . It explains so much. Even courage at the wrong time can be harmful. Only that which benefits others is what is needed. 

Why do I do this?

There is no point blogging any more.I spent days together in its conception and design.I had started enjoying it but i too is over flooding with negative emotions.What's the point of doing anything when nothing is helping you out.I am deleting this blog.I want to thank everyone who kept reading it and poured their advices.Shared facts with me.I can't continue with this any more.Time is running fast,I can't see the horizon.I have no idea when all this will end.

When I read this on a fellow blogger's blog, I started to wonder: Why do I blog? I started to blog in 06 though my blog shows first post as Dec 07. I deleted my blog because of my frustrations. I felt exactly like her. Now, I have been back to blogging and there is very little, if at all anything that can make me delete this space.

My blog has been my voice. Those around me can relate every post of mine to an incident in my life. Some are as trivial as a sentence said by a person. But that evolves as an idea. Most of the time, my emotions are over- exaggerated, but they are all mine. 

Blogging has given me great friends. Some of them who understand me. Some who offer constructive criticism. Some who can relate to what I write. Some who expect me to explain some of my posts. Some who may think its nuts. But I really don't care. I do (really really) love those who comment, those who actually follow my blog and come and read me each time I update. But truly, from my heart, I write for me. I write because I like it. I like expression. I can't imagine me if I didn't write. If there are thousand who think I write non-sense and one, just one can relate to it, I'm happy. And because most of the time, I write about me, I know my problems aren't unique, hence someone out there can relate.

Basically, I just want MM (who deleted her blog) to realise that blogging maybe cathartic or maybe not. Blogging may be understood by many or no-one. Like most things in life, we must do it for ourselves first. Sometimes, we must cater to other people's needs and wants but we must think about ourselves too. 

Smile of an angel

This is my entry for today's 3WW: 

Words were Cajole, Recluse and Temper

As I looked at her, I felt my temper melt away. My anger toward fate and life. When she caught my finger with her tiny little fingers, I couldn't help but smile. My little angel who had forced me out of my recluse. My baby who was now cajoling me to live my life for her. After my wife's death what did I have to look forward to but the smile of this angel?


I dreamt a little dream, tonight.
I saw him whisk him away like a knight.
I saw him pick me up from my recluse sole
I felt him cajole life into my soul
I felt tempers no more, hatred ceased.
I know there is hope, in my dreams, at least.

Manic Monday Meme

At Manic Monday, they asked,

What would you do with an extra hour each day?

Almost everyday, my grandmother tells me that I should have 36 hrs in the day, so that I can complete my work. You can see me work till 2 or 3 am at times too. (I'm bordering Type A personality and proud of it.) I make a list of things to be done everyday in the morning and try to get everything done. (I love lists) Now a days, since I have holidays, most things seem to go smoothly and have enough time to blog and talk friends too. But otherwise, sleep becomes a rare commodity and life is hectic. 

So, in the end if I had an extra hour, I would probably spend it with family because they are the ones who face the most brunt of my sleepless nights (and hence my sharp tongue).

Do you wear a watch? If so, tell us about it. If not, how do you keep track of time?

Most of the time, I do wear a watch but otherwise I use my phone to keep a track of time.

If it was possible, would you want to know how many days you had left to live?

Not at all. I want to think I would live forever and plan accordingly. I like my plans to be BIG. :)
For those who don't dream have nothing to look forward to...

Woman' Day - A virgo woman!

Today is Woman's Day and I wrote this poem for Acrostic Only. And on Woman's Day, I dedicate this to a very special woman in my life- My Grandmother.

The epitome of care and perfection.
Her smile -divine as that of an angel
Every action- grace personified.

Virtuous by nature, she 
Imbibes everything around with
Reasoning of a calm mind.
God sent, to she is each 
Of those who know her.

Wherever she goes,
Of whatever path she takes
May she always be the calm
Azure and the rebel crimson.
Never ever may she change.

And to all the virgo women in my life and those who light up someone else's life too.. May all our dreams come true and you get all that you deserve.. Be safe!!

Rain Haiku!

Tears want to avenge
Rain from clouds genuine, not.
Rambling to place new.

Prompted at 3WW

This form of poetry is called a Haiku. Prats explains it wonderfully here. My other attempts are here!

I love Prats for introducing experimentation in my style! Thanks a lot :D


Call me, if you can
Or maybe send me a letter
Never leave, without saying a word. 
Very often, I do wonder if you realise that
Each time I hear you
Ramble about your day, your
Stories about life,
Anything and everything,
The satisfaction of a CONVERSATION
I get, of just listening to you, my dear.
On and off, do keep in touch, OH!
Never ever leave, without saying a word.

Attempted at Acrostic Only

What is an Acrostic Poem?? The answer is here. But it mainly means that the first letter of each line spells the name of the poem and the theme. 


Diary of a 30-something

Dear Diary,

Today all records are broken. The number of lies I told V, the number of cigarettes, the amount of crappiness I felt. Each reached a new high today. 

Today, as usual, I left for the office earlier than I was expected to be there. This has suddenly become my routine. When did it stop being exciting and full of strong emotions and become mundane. Is this numbness just a phase I'm going through?

These questions are not new. They have always plagued me but I always hid it. But whats the point? Nobody knows about P ! How do I explain to them? I'm a part of the perfect couple. I'm the perfect wife, the perfect mother. Everyone thinks V is the perfect husband. And yes, he is. I don't know what more could he have done. But somehow I could never have broken off my ties with P.

P and I were together in a love-less relationship for 4 years. What others might have called 'Fuck-buddies'. We knew it was more. We truly cared about each other. Sometime, with passing time, care left us and what was left was the sex. Even that lost the passion for me.

Guilt had left me. Love had left me. Passion had left me. I wonder if I could ever be normal again. I wonder why had I ever gotten myself into this? I wonder if I could get any further from what I had thought my perfect life would be. I wonder if I can ever put an end to this?