The moment I wake up

The moment I wake up after a night sleep…it starts my day …mostly the sun is never there…but there’s a mild light in my room. My house is adjacent to highway …very rarely there’s silence…still I chant sanskrit mantra Karagre Vasati Laxmi which been taught to me since I learnt to speak….since when I was born I had the habit of sleeping at 6pm and getting up at 5am or 6am so.

The first thing I do when I get up from is wash my face with water and drink a little cold water . Standing in the window and enjoying the fresh morning breeze on my face is one of my favourite things. The sounds of vehicles passing by never stops …very rarely chirping of a sparrow is heard…when the highway is silent. The city is still to wake up.

The next thing that comes to my mind is performing a little bit of yoga for 10-15 min with mild classical music. I get tempted to have coffee or tea and yes I prepare coffee or tea myself. Mom saves a cup of yesterday’s milk for that. I come walking to window enjoying the fresh morning breeze sipping tea or coffee.

My mother and I have spotted some flower trees in my neighbourhood and I like to visit these trees for flowers …mostly what I collect is yellow or red hibiscus …jasmine and roses. But my mother compels me to have a bath if I go to collect flowers for morning prayer. After collecting flowers the task assigned to me to bring milk bag..the grocer just smiles a bit looking at me and without saying a word and gives me the milk bag of one litre.

I either jog on the huge gliding centre in front of my house building or I do cycling. I love to see twilight sky with reddish blue shades inhaling the fresh morning air. By the time I reach home morning breakfast is ready for me. Graduation engineering exams are just over. Atlast a little break from studies after 22 years. Got selected in campus interview too but joining is in the month of February. Till then a little break..mother feels I should concentrate a little bit on cooking and I religiously help her. It will take a bit of time to enter the new phase of my life. Again there’s going to new world and new people in it. I feel I should try for Gate exam too. I may continue with my post graduation too..but it will be as per things that are going to favour me.

How’s your morning don’t forget to mention

I Shall Pass this Way But once

I Shall Pass this Way But Once
A little smile

Quivers on the lips

A leaf falls

A tree swings

Wind sings

Tears glide

Prayer echoes

From the

Depth of the soul

To a point of being pointless is sometimes the wisdom of the ages which we have to perceive. To contemplate on the transitory nature of all and yet be there to see the grace of beauty that lace defining moments is what life is all about.

And to think that we travel only in one direction forward and ahead. We can never turn back to the road we came. Our mind records the journey in detail, though no two minds have the same detail. Even if you have walked with a fellow traveler both will have different version to narrate.

The roads stretch in front of each one of us. We travel without any choice. Sitting and resting is allowed, but then we have to get up and walk. Time milestones have no meaning if you perceive the eternity of life. We have always been here and there, now and then. We might not remember but some ancient memories are embedded in the depths of our minds. At times we might recognize at turning on this road of life.

The road is one way. We shall pass here but once. It will then reside in our mind. At times when we rest, we might connect with someone we met on the road one yesterday of life. It could be a helping hand, a caring smile or some shared smiling moments. Painful memories are dull ache which remains even when the thorn embedded in the skin has been removed. Let it pass. Do not hurt yourself by pricking. Whatever it was it has gone away. Let it go. Just be with the happiness. As pain and pleasure are born in our heart and torment us in mind, we must calm it.

Life flows with us, in us and around us. See it to feel it. Near a river bank, just looking at the passing water fills me with wonder. Something changes deep inside. And oceans are a different story. A river has boundaries an ocean has freedom.  Together they teach us the boundaries of freedom.

So while I may pass this road just once, let me experience life in all glory. Let me not worry about tomorrow or mope for the yesterday.

The excitement of life throbs in each moment. The only thing we need to sense it is a child like mind and wings of imagination. Light the flame of hope and no dark night will scare you. Lend a helping hand to yourself be kind to your own self.

At some difficult point in my life, I found the art of keeping a visual journal very helpful.  A sketch book, colors, sketch pens and my words just flow. Whenever I can spare time I sit with my muse. Using the colors I play with experiences. Believe me the process is very therapeutic. After the entry is done it is laid to rest. Later when the impressions have had time to sink, I visit the pages. Each entry reveals a truth about one exact moment in my life. I meet some long lost friends to experience tranquility of sublime moments. Not all is just fine sometimes I can see the scars and tears. However, depicting these on paper helped to let go and just that is needed.

Words I write here are impressions, echoes, reactions and meditations. It hardly matters what matters is the art of putting them on the white sheet. Blue is a recurrent color theme on my pages. It takes on to Indigo. Recently, I find myself attracted to the color purple. Yellow and orange are mostly on trees perhaps representing flowers. Another element here is water sometimes serene; at times flowing. Nature brings out the thinker in me and is my muse.

Whenever I flip through the pages I am reminded of the point of time. I may pass the road once but can revisit with the pages. It is just as getting a magical key to the past.

Thought for the Soul 

A young girl and her father were walking along a forest path. 

At some point, they came across a large tree branch on the ground in front of them. 

The girl asked her father, “If I try, do you think I could move that branch?” 

Her father replied, “I am sure you can, if you use all your strength.” 

The girl tried her best to lift or push the branch, but she was not strong enough and she couldn’t move it. 

She said, with disappointment, “You were wrong, dad. I can’t move it.” 

“Try again with all your strength,” replied her father. 

Again, the girl tried hard to push the branch. She struggled but it did not move. 

“Dad, I cannot do it,” said the girl.

Finally her father said, “Young lady, I advised you to use ‘all your strength’. You didn’t.

You didn’t ask for my help.”

Our real strength lies not in independence, but in interdependence.

No individual person has all the strengths, all the resources and all the stamina required for the complete blossoming of their vision.
To ask for help and support when we need it is not a sign of weakness, it is a sign of wisdom.


​The words meditation conjures up the images of hermits and sages sitting in dense forest in equally deep reflection. 

We have read stories about how they would meditate for ages and sit still for eons the birds would make nests in the knotted hair on the top of their head.

 You can see the mountains around and the forests singing the wild tune. The nature and the five elements create, nurture and destroy at their own pace. The hermits would sit still to observe the cosmic motion and commotion it creates. The order of chaos or the chaos of order whatever it is. 

The nature in the wilderness can be merciless, very fierce and can make you totally reflective, in the great heights of the mountains which are covered with white shawls of snow the trees with the leaves or even without them as fine silhouette on the backdrop. 

The seasons in forests are very intense. The five elements – space, fire, earth, wind and water the Panchmahabhutas as called in Sanskrit are literally that Mahabhutas-strong, wild, ungoverned, unsuppressed …Each plays its part to perfection, the earth blossoms, blooms when Sun touches her with love. It is amazing to watch the colors with infinite shades of green and yellows and crimsons rise of the barren landscape as spring paints with deft fingers. 

The blooms live the life in a day, dancing in the wind, soaking in the rains, and soaring to the space above and then go back to mingle with mother Earth. A life where regret plays no part neither do the feelings of envy, jealousy and competition. 

Rivers flow through the forests meandering their way through valleys and plains to flow to the sea. Silence in such places is echoes with spirit of the wild. 

The birds chirp and flip the wings, the leaves rustle, the twigs crunch and crackle, the water of springs hums a lovely forest song while the rivers sing a soft symphony. To sit among these trees and just to listen to all the surround sound is pure delight for the soul.

 No wonder our ancient mystics used to meditate in these places. That is one reason why many of the temples and pilgrimages are situated on the mountains, lest we should visit and see the grandeur of such heights.

All the rituals in every religion do have a sound scientific base even if we do not realize. The knowledge must have been lost under the dust of time.

 The instruments of rituals always fascinate me. The shining silver, the golden brass, the rich copper, the dazzling gold all have so many tendrils of myths and history around. 

Every household has these heirlooms. As a small child I would observe these rituals with keen interest and curious wonder. I asked questions which were answered with great patience by the elders. The clay lamps with cotton wicks, camphor and incense spreading the fragrance around, the flowers, the doob grass and leaves in the room-a scene which is etched in my mind.

 The flickering flame on the delicate cotton wick of a lamp has strange strength. I always feel blessed sitting near a clay lamp. The Earth and fire come together. It is an irresistible attraction which connects with the divine. 

Praying is essentially very personal. I can never pray in the temples which are in the center of bustling markets. You hardly connect with the divine. Such temples are all business centers, involved with the monetary side of life.

The temples which are isolated, ancient, in the deep forest intrigue me. Not many people can be seen there at any given time. But the atmosphere is positive and mystical. The myths and tales around such places are captivating. Here, the whole being resonates, bows, meditates in the silence of nature. For me God is Nature, the five elements.

Alchemy of Blue 

​Alchemy of Blue

 It felt strange today with some pleasant cool winds blowing after a hot humid night. Somewhere it had rained and the breeze bought the news. Cotton clouds never bought rains. Dark thunder with lightning was what we looked for in the sky. That place where it may have rained seemed so blessed. However, the morning was pleasant, and I decided to be with it. Our mind is ready to dampen the spirits if we permit, and mostly I don’t permit myself the luxury of depressing thoughts which can lead to the blue mood.

MOOD….a small short word but has so many meanings. How many times we hide behind our ‘mood’? Yes, I understand we cannot always be up and about happy whatever life has to offer at that particular moment.

This blue mood can be helpful in a very different way. Blue is my favorite color and also the color of the sky and the sea. It must also be God’s favorite. I like to think that way he has used it so much in the Universe and perhaps beyond it. And we refer to this mood of ours as ‘blue’ why. I have no explanation. But I feel and believe in the alchemy of the blue.

Yes being in this blue transforms something deep inside to make you see life in  a new form. It alters perspectives to give you direction.  Sometimes feeling blue is a sign for you to amend something inside so that the outside changes. The outer world is the reflection of your inner world and before the inner changes; there cannot be any change in the outside.

This color of the sky is soft blue and very near to the soul, I feel. For yes Blue is my favorite color. All shades in this color tell me different tales. As a small kid I remember I would lie on the roof staring at the sky in the early morning when the darkness melted away by the new born suns’ rays.

Blue is lyrical blue is mystical blue is for sadness and ironically blue is for healing and death at the same time. But an end is always a new beginning.

Anything blue pulls me towards like a magnet and on the ropes of blue the mood swings At times I have noticed a fierce angry passion lies dormant inside the silent volcano. The explosion will let go of the angry lava and fire, the dust and ashes as it settles and gets soaked with the rains that follow a new beginning is made. Watching nature can give you an answer.

Just as a good cry will cleanse you as nothing else can. Sit down and cry your heart no need to feel ashamed it is a way to feel lighter. It is the way to heal. The world always looks different after a good cry. The world is the same but something deep inside you has changed something has been cleansed something has been washed away. The sadness might still linger, but you will definitely feel lighter and perhaps a little brighter.

So feeling blue can change, cleanse wash and heal. The alchemy seems to amaze

The alchemy ushers creativity, where songs are born, stories are told and poems unfold.

Even a simple act of walking after a good cry makes you feel the pulsating energy in mundane surroundings.

Sad lyrics touch you deeply. Sad songs are carried in hearts, because sadness stirs you like a storm slowly building the momentum. It bursts with full passion and breaks the walls of dams you might have created. Nothing remains the same. Rivers flow, rains lash, winds sweep things seem broken, but you are restored 

Thoughts #14

​Forevers float, I don’t.

Just a moment for that damp sand by the beach. 

Nobody wants to hold it. Nobody can seep it through their fingers. 

It’s hard to judge cruelty when you’ve never know kindness. Isn’t it? 

People change, not with time. But because they’re too afraid of being remarked as constant. 

I’m always a little sad, not because there are millions of songs on heartbreaks. But because my thoughts are deep and fear brimming. Over thinking has become my salvage now. Maybe; Probably!
Poetry is not just about wanderlust. It’s petrichor to my dried blood. A sedative drug. It’s about the clouds, caressing the sky until they dissolve. 

Wondering when will I be able to say ‘Maybe I am not myself but a reflection in you; as you walk,’ to someone. 

Dreams are nothing but human and everything but an illusion. Memories are black souls, screeching And whispering. 

All it takes is juggling of a few words and some excliamation marks. 

An awful life! 

Can be a life full of awws!!

Still miserable?


Therefore I am.

Me ,myself,  my thoughts 

​“I  am pushing myself every day, to be a better person, to learn, to be someone worth something some day. 

Trying to do it all, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Nothing I do ever will, it never has.

 At the end of the day, I’m just a small girl with dreams that are way out of her league – stuck between living in the moment and planning the next 10 years of my life, between being okay with not having life figured out and crying myself to sleep because i have no idea what to do. 

Trying so hard and still not being good enough, having people who expect great things but tell me I’m worth nothing.

On good days, I’m okay with everything I’ve achieved. I’m okay with who I am and who I have become.

 I’m okay with not having my life figured out at 19. There’s gotta be more to life than being right and making sound decisions, there’s gotta be more than just following a plan.

But on the bad, all i can think about is turning 20 in two short days, and being nowhere close to achieving what I’ve always wanted. 

Nowhere close to being someone who’s on a path to greatness, no one who deserves a damn thing in the world. On the bad nights, I can’t figure out if my existence has even a tiny bit of importance. 

So what if i do my hardest every day? The bad days make me question everything I do, have ever done. Make me question every decision I’ve made, I keep thinking that if I just vanished, nothing would change. 

On the bad days, every mistake, every little error is a demon of its own, telling me I won’t ever be enough. And with each bad day, a good one seems to get further and further away.

I’m stuck and i don’t quite know how to rescue myself. 

No one can say things worse than what I tell myself every second of the day. 

So what do you do, when you are your own nightmare come to life?”

Why do I write ?

​Many a times 

I wonder 

Why do I write?

The question seems to be like

Why the sun rises and sets daily? 

I write because 

Words are my true companions

In times of loneliness 

In times of sorrow

In times of happiness and joy 

They reveal my feelings

My state of mind 

They provide a solution to my problems

Mostly I write for myself 

It gives me a feel of satisfaction 

If my words are 

A helping hand to ones in crisis

Soothing to bones in pain 

Healing saddened and hurt minds.

Wiping off tears from eyes that cry 

What is it?

What is it?

That keeps our souls glued to our bodies

What is it?

That gives a sense of feelings

What is it? 

That gives us vision

Colours to see

What is it?

That makes our heart beat

What is it?

That enables to hear the melodies

What is it?

That regulates our world and the universe too

What is it?

That makes us think 

What is it? 

That separates our soul from our body

When we die