An unfulfilled appointment 

Our dreams lasted too long
But all the reality
Nothing but an unfulfilled appointment!
For once I was unable to decide
What pains me more
This poignant or the life without it!
The feeling of this aloneness
Amongst everyone around
The torment of this love unsatisfied!
It was so easy to love you
Never realised
Would be so hard to forget you!
I hear your voice — in silence
That you speak to me
In unspoken words!
You detach me from God
And replace Him by yourself
And I wonder whom to worship!
Now I am waiting
Till your memory leaves
The chambers of my heart!


Rain and Me

Semester exams are over…but holidays started with fever and weakness for’s over now. 

Enjoyed welcoming  getting wet in the first rain of this year…I love the first rain especially the petrichor…inhaling it gives me an immense pleasure with a cup of steaming coffee it’s like heaven.

I love the first rain, and rain loves me too 
Rain drops dance when I come to sit by the window to watch the rains.

Some drops start beating on the sill of the window in excitement and hope to bounce back high enough to reach my face.
I stretch hand out of the window and let the drops rest on the softness of my palm. 

And sometimes, I bless the rain by coming out myself and letting the rain touch me; my face, my body and my soul.
I stand out there, completely still, with my face tilted up towards the clouds, and my eyes closed as if I going to embrace it all.

In that moment, nothing crosses my mind. It’s just the rain and me. I live the rain while the rain feels me 

Drops sit on the hammock of my eyelashes and fall one by one to kiss my lips. The ones i kiss back, find salvation and lose their being to become one with me

Those are the days when the rain is quenched of its thirst and there is a celebration in the skies. Clouds are elated, winds go euphoric, birds sing and rainbows appear.
Those are the days when I yearn for my salvation. Those are the days when I live and die; both at the same time, both because of the same person.

First Book Review “Malgudi Days “

They say a man’s best friend is his dog and a woman’s best friend is her diamond. But I say their best friend is books. Books are one thing that remains faithful – you just have to make sure you are looking at the right ones. Good books are just like good friends – they will always remain sincere to us. The beauty of a book lies mostly in the presentation style along with its contents.

One such book which is overall a great package is “Malgudi Days” by “Rasipuram Krishnaswami Ayyar Narayanaswami”, better known as “R K Narayan”. Though its 100+ years since this legend was born, he still rules in the hearts of any literary lover. 

Compared to other books by the same author, this was the most widely appreciated, and even made into a television serial. Narayan certainly has an extraordinary command over words. A similarity between most of his books, whether it is novels, stories, short stories, memoirs or even essays, is the simple language and the play of words as he narrates each incident, each location & each personality. These stories written with Narayan’s simple style and characteristic gentle irony, portray the variety and colour of Indian Life. The vividness in the explanation makes each character dear to us. Infact, though the characters of “Malgudi days” all belong to a small village; these people are still alive amongst us. The characteristics of the village Malgudi seems universal to any part of the world. 

Malgudi days is a collection of 32 short stories told by R K Narayan. In each of the stories he narrates the extraordinary ordinariness of a human life. The artistic innocence of his words at once hits a chord with our hearts. It deals with a small village in India having a multitude of personalities having various characters, outlooks, habits and day-to-day philosophy.

Each story in this collection, deals mainly with one character or emotion of a typical person, which captivates the reader’s imagination. Though the crux of any story can be explained in a couple of lines, the elaborateness makes us feel that we are at that particular village scene watching the incident and prying inside the character’s heads and knowing about the feelings of their heart.

The stories all ends with a surprising note that makes us think from the character’s point of view, on their emotions and what prompted them to do their deeds. It gives an exposure to traditions, life and emotions of various kinds of people. This makes a very interesting reading as it throws light into the minds of people in general.  

For example, the story “An Astrologer’s Day” Narayan introduces us to a typical market scene. The story revolves on an astrologer seated under a tamarind tree which flank a path running through the Town Hall Park. The astrologer’s appearance – the ash and vermillion on the forehead, turban on the head, sparkle in the eye, even the unique location of the eye is beautifully expressed. The author goes on to enchant the reader with his beautiful explanation on the astrologer and the other traders doing business in the busy path. Yet, the focal point in the story still remains with the astrologer, his astronomic techniques and dealings with his customers – particularly one of them.

The resplendency of the language of R K Narayan’s Malgudi days prompts the readers to go back to the book and turn the pages yet once again plunging into the various human minds. It leaves any reader spellbound with emotions. The excellent vocabulary of the author’s words leaves the readers thirsting for more.

A great book that adds value to your collection. 

I can clearly see

To lie awake each night

Body aching


Almost screaming for rest

But how can I drift away

Softly slip into slumber

When my thoughts run wild and free?

The night has become the dawn for my imagination


The stars hold the key to my inspiration

In the darkness I can clearly see….

She decided to die

Its about my long time friend who tried to end her life two days back due to exams tensions that she may not score well 

I remember her from a long time
The girl with twinkle in her eyes
Chubby cheeks, round face
And a smile in her lips that never dies
Always with a gang of girls
Her never ending babbling
Someone you’ll never find alone
And sans her laughing
Always crazy and always carefree
Someone,who can never stop talking
A little naughty, a little witty
Who would hop a little, jump a little just for nothing
Then something went wrong
That changed her drastically
And she went inside her cocoon
Slowly, silently and surely
Without disturbing even the dew drop
She closed all her doors
And decided to be completely on her own
Unmoved like stone
I still remember the girl
With twinkle in her eyes
Who had decided to go away
Without even a single good bye
No bird could hear
Her silent cry
When without letting anyone know
She had decided to die.
No note, not even a word
To leave behind
So sulky on life that
You didn’t even tell the reason why.
So many still love you
You didn’t even consider
Your near and dear ones too
You decided not to bother.
I still remember her
The girl with twinkle in her eyes
Unmoved, who closed all her doors
And finally decided to die.

Control systems 

Trying something to write based on my yesterday’s paper Control Systems. Attempt to mix electronics with our lives 

Their coming in are routed about, 

molded and shaped on their way out.
Outputs are exchanged for things coming in;

and the cycle starts all over again.
Systems are loops,

they’re cycles of events. 

Focusing on “parts” doesn’t make much sense.
If you would make use of the systems view, here’s some well-meant advice from me to you:
When observing systems from the outside, trace their outputs back to their input side,
for what systems “do,” 

or so I believe, is act to control the things they receive.
A system’s first purpose is to survive; it takes new inputs to keep it alive.
Some are changed, transformed, and these pass on through; others nourish, they sustain and renew.
Outputs for inputs: these interactions are more technically known as “transactions.”
For the human race, it is much the same; we all are involved in the systems game.
But stand well clear of the digital view; it doesn’t fit me, it doesn’t fit you.
Our lives are continuous, not discrete.   Besides, bits and bytes don’t love, sleep, nor eat.
Though behaviorists rant, and some might rave, stimulus in doesn’t make us behave.
The S-R model is a mindless one, human as “black box” – an automaton.
Conditioning can’t work, so why the fuss? We human beings are autonomous.
Behavior results in things rearranged, the measure of which is perception changed.
Saying what should be requires believing; gauging what is depends on perceiving.
Perceptions tightly linked to intentions; any gaps soon closed by interventions.
Made up of people and thus perception, organizations are no exception.
Remember, all those goals and objectives are nothing more than human directives
conveying some boss’s valued “druthers” (to be achieved through the labor of others).
Problems regarding what other folks do can best be resolved from the systems view.
Step One is to Align the Reference.   

Mind you, this is more than mere preference.
Feedback is not found in your words to me; it’s found weighing my goals with what I see.
Perception.  Reference.  

These are the keys to unlocking mysteries such as these:
Why? Why do we humans do what we do? Who’s in control? Is it me?  Is it you?
The answers are there, waiting to be found in studies of loops going ’round and ’round.
There is a moral, a point to this rhyme of cycles of events tumbling through time:
Listen with great caution to those who shout for you to focus on what you put out.
Their self-serving clamor, their raucous din, should not distract you from what’s coming in.
There are no hard rules for what should go out save this one: It will somehow come about that what goes out will affect what comes in. What you produce is irrelevant, then,
except in light of its impact on you. That is the essence of “the systems view.”
Enjoy these few small truths, ponder them well, and perhaps some day in turn you can tell someone you know – be it family or friend – how there is no beginning and no end,
no cause, no effect, not one can be found in closed loops going around and around.

Happy Marriage Anniversary

Today is your Marriage Anniversary Di …I am sharing this post once more for you ..despite of my exam tommorow…you must be busy celebrating the same with Jiju…wishing you a happy married life forever.

Here’s  a pleasant surprise for you

How would you feel to know that I was present at your marriage ceremony even though we didn’t knew each other.

It was 22 May 2015. For first time I had come to Shanti Nagar…where my father’s friend Rakesh Soni once lived. Now he has shifted to Pune.I hate the humid and hot climate of Mumbai in summers as I literally get drenched in sweat.

I had just come to the venue Bapa Sitaram Temple  thinking it was a temple of Lord Ram and Godess Sita.But it was a temple of Saint Sitaram. At the same time there was a marriage ceremony going on.I felt the presence of someone very close to me.

Curiosity pulled  me towards the marriage pandal even though I was an uninvited person by both the parties.The feeling of someone close to me became stronger and stronger. 

I stopped. I saw you dressed in red transparent saree and blue blouse standing alongwith your sister.

I realised this just 3-4 days ago when I saw the photo your sister in one of your posts .She is an unique person and can be identified easily.

Your spouse wore a dark red sherwani.The remarkable thing was he hadn’t shaved yet he looked very handsome. The stage bore his name S –  –  –  – – H and yours written in yellow colour.

I could sense the feeling of happiness and satisfaction on your face getting married to a person whom you like most and at the same time a feeling of sadness for leaving behind your family… the persons whom you love the most.

I felt like I should walk upto the stage and  talk with you but since we were unknown to each other ..also I was a stranger and uninvited guest …somehow I controlled myself and walked away.

Yet happy to be a part of most important day of your life.

Her world through an open window 

The open window,
Is Gayatri’s only portal to the outside world,

Because there is ice in her legs,

That has frozen,

Numbing her legs,

Saving from constantly hurting her toe against the edges of the staircase.

At least that is what Ma(Mother)told her.

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.
Her butterfly heart flutters,

As the wind caresses her face,

But more often than she wishes to acknowledge,

She must remember- that dreams and capabilities are two different words.

She dreams to run towards the setting sun,

Which gets lost somewhere on the other side of the horizon.

The open window lets her see this much only.

From the open window,

Gayatri can see little Tanvi riding the bicycle,

Her legs unfrozen,

Moving in perfect harmony like the sun moves up and down the horizon.

Gayatri smiles looking at her four wheeled wheelchair,

Remembering how Ma (Mother)told her- that the number of wheels decided the worth of a vehicle. 

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.

From the open window,

The sun rises up the horizon.

No cuckoos have time to wake up Gayatri.

The sun is Gayatri’s cuckoo.

With the rising sun,

Comes Baba(Dad) too,

A genial smile plastered on his face.

He comes from the other side of the horizon,

Where cuckoos sing,

And unicorns ride on rainbows,

Where the sun never sets.

That is why Baba(Dad) doesn’t like Gayatri’s house.

Ma (Mother) is a good liar.

From the open window,

Gayatri can see herself running in the meadows,

The raindrops colouring the blank canvas of her body,

The wet mud spread all over her like streaks of brown paint.

Ma (Mother) is painted completely in brown,

Like a wretched painting without art,

Lying on the ground,

Outside Gayatri’s window.

Baba(Dad) is a bad painter.
In all this rain, 

Ma’s  (Mother’s) eyes have decided to help too,

Trying to wash away the dark colour she seems to be coloured in.

The sun has decided to part with Gayatri and Mark. 

Ma tells Gayatri that the nights are shorter in this season.

Ma(Mother) is a good liar.
From the open window,

Seven seasons have passed,

But the sun hasn’t returned.

It has been the longest night in Gayatri’s life.

Life has just been a 90’s film,

Of black and white.

Baba’s (Dad’s)genial smile,

And the stories of unicorns and supernatural beings have stopped,

Ma has stopped talking too.

She just sits in a corner silently,

As if her legs have frozen too.

Maybe she got tired of hurting too.

There is light every morning,

And dark every night,

But who would tell Gayatri’s wretched soul,

That Baba’s (Dad’s)smile was her cuckoo,

And sometimes cuckoos fly away,

Because the other side of the horizon is a beautiful place.

But who would tell Gayatri that sometimes,

Like her legs,

Hearts froze too,

Numbing it from getting hurt over and over again.

But who in this whole wide world,

Will tell a little girl, 

Waiting for this night to end,

That her mother was a liar.


“Why are you standing in this row since so long ? 

“So that I could get a ticket to my village & finally go home & meet my mom dad”

“I want to meet my mom dad as well, could I also get a ticket?”

“sure. come and stand behind me”

A 6 years old made everyone speechless when he asked, 

“A ticket to heaven, please.”


Exams exams exams

Tension mounts 

As the date comes closer and closer 

Getting inside study books 

Throughout the whole day 

Mother serves  breakfast, lunch and dinner on my table 

Also milk and tea in between 

Disconnected from the outside world 

It’s just me and my study books 

Whatever you have learnt 

For the last 6 months 

Will be drained on the answer sheet 

In just a time of 3 hours 

Is this called exam ?? 

Preparation leave is like hell

Time moves like a tortoise