Sunday, 17 May 2015

Why dawdle when it is about you?

Today was a normal day. As normal as a day during vacations goes. The only highlight of the day was the birthday party I went to, this evening. It was a party, yes but not the kind wherein people are jumping around and yelling and shoving food down their throats while trying to keep up with the dance beats. It was a peaceful party. Few of us girls, seated around a table, everyone cheerfully talking and occasional expressions of surprise as food was served. That was pretty much it. But, everyone was happy. I was sitting with two of my very close friends. We were busy eating and having our own conversation when the birthday girl, being the tiny little package of liveliness she is, popped up on the side of the table and flashed her perfect smile. After the obvious interrogation of if we were comfortable and needed anything, she looked towards me and started a sentence with, "Your blog...". I personally, smiled a little. The kid in my mind went off to happy dancing because yes I like it when people (constructively) criticize or appreciate my blog. My friends looked at me and smiled. I waited till the sentence was completed.
"Your blog has been dead you know! It's isolated. I keep having to read the same things again and again." This had me covering my face with my palms out of embarrassment. I tried to justify my mistake by stating the obvious - I have no inspiration to write, I am sorry. She nodded in understanding but before she moved on to greet the rest of the guests present, she told me, "If not anything else, just a musing at least" and smiled. It felt good, but also made me wonder if the justification I put forward was accurate enough.
People mention writer's block and how it is necessary to have strong emotions being stimulated within you to write and there are tons of more things that, as I have been told, have been proved as valid reasons for why a person is just not able to write. Honestly, these are not reasons. These are excuses. Now that I think of it, I lied to someone and not justify myself. Agreed that to write something there needs to be something that pricks you, or stimulates a stream of thoughts in your mind and the only reason why these things do not happen often is because we all are just plain lazy.
I took up writing, someone chose maybe music or dance or painting or maybe even origami to express themselves but, the fact that most of us end up using random excuses that sound all deep and philosophical to cover up for the fact that we slacked off is pathetic. Not generally pathetic but pathetic to ourselves. Yes I managed to cover up by saying that I have had no inspiration to write and lucky me that my friend understood that but, what if tomorrow I come across someone to whom it strikes that it's just an excuse to camouflage my inability to be consistent? Forget people, what about the fact that I took up writing (and someone music, dance, painting, etc) because it helped me express myself and made me feel better?
Motivation is necessary, yes but that doesn't give us a right to use that need as an excuse. This entire write-up pretty much sounds like a rant, I admit, but the fact that I poured my heart out after 25 days of procrastinating makes me feel happy. Gives me a surge of satisfaction. And so, somewhere, I think, all we need to remember is - "When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time."
It's nice to realize the importance of expressing ourselves from within than have someone point it out to you.

Wednesday, 22 April 2015


Sunday, 22 February 2015


Monday, 26 January 2015

Paradise within the wild.

The safaris were hopeless, yes. I didn't get to see any sort of predators, this fact agitated me - agreed. I found it all disappointing, I admit. I lost interest during safaris a lot of times because herbivores are something I can even get to see in my own city, to be honest. 
But, sometimes, when one bothers to look beyond the shadow of the hood covering their head, they get an opportunity to see something not pretty, classy, elegant or cool but, fascinating. Who knew I would get a chance to sing the Coldplay song, "This could be para- para- paradise. Para- para- paradise. Could be para- para- paradise.Whoa-oh-oh oh-oooh oh-oh-oh."

Ranthambore Trip , 2015. 

Sunday, 18 January 2015


On the suggestion of a dear friend (thank you Zeal), I have decided to put up my random musings on the blog. Attempts to improve the content will be made, I promise. 
Here's to the first one. 

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

The Party.

Shimmering lights,
Gazing eyes;
Boasting might
And, saying lies.

Shaking hands,
Warm hugs;
Making friends
And, raising mugs.

Stroking beards,
Blushing cheeks;
Playing billiards
And, the alcohol reeks.

Avoiding embarrassments,
Exchanging gifts;
Expressing endearments
And, offering lifts.

Wishing farewell,
And, walking through the doors
Leaving for the host, cleaning chores. 

Friday, 17 October 2014

The missing fragment of ardour...

The book lay open,
With memories forgotten
The present unopened
With the time to come, unwoven.

Pages with burnt edges,
Underlined clauses
And, dramatic utterances.
All, binded within a frame
Which was nothing
An evidence of the time
 That had already lost its fame.

The chapters, as they perpetuated,
Love stirred and so did hatred.
Intensity prolonged,
Misconceptions formed
And, our story was eventually torn.

Pondering about what is gone,
And, acting all forlorn.
It is not a crime
Squandering time.

With a few emotions at cost,
The tenderness in me became sore
And, the faith in you got lost.
I ask for nothing more

The piece of my soul that you once tore.