The most authentic of human pursuit is not victory

it is, struggle

We touched down on the earth not to conquer it

but to survive,fail,evolve,adapt,co-exist and then continue to our fleshly demise

it was all going fine

until winning came along

The three

were friends

dwelled together

but lived different lives

and different deaths

The turbulent one,dig up some else’s grave and decorated her tomb with the spoils.

She wanders the tombstones for new spoils

The peaceful one,dig her own grave,didnt yearn a tomb and gave away her spoils.

She mendicants in the living world

The intoxicated one,celebrating her own spoils,fell into someone else’s grave.

She lived some one else’s death


The 1 rupee note

School,during lunch hour

Every day ,boring home food

Depressing dry sandwiches

Felt a burden,carrying them in my school bag,

Felt a drag,against the sweat whiff of fried “bread pakoras” from the school canteen

Bread pakora

Until one day

My mother went ill ,she couldnt pack lunch

She gave me a crisp 1 rupee note, that looked like this


It sent a surge of joy through my veins, b ecause now I could attain joy

No more depressing dry sandwiches to carry

Walked into the school , with a bloated chest

I had the 1 rupee note, I had joy

Could hardly wait

For the  luncheon gong

It went off, I went off

Shot to canteen,first in line

To savor the “bread pakora”

Secretly wishing mother doesn’t get well soon

Because I could have another 1 rupee note






Is it childhood again ?

3rd birthday

Really ?

Yes,feels like it !

The nostalgia of slow time travel has returned

Planning , re planning imaginary trips across great lands on the great railway

Standing still in wonder,eyes unblinking in a vast gaze, wondering what the great land will hold in it’s clenched fist,the faces that i will see,the conversations that I might have

Is it childhood again ?

The mind is a bouncy ball , wild day dreams,  aspirations

The aspirations make you sweat nervously but they are stubborn,persistent,wont dumb down,wont get lured to safety

Is it childhood again ?

Yearning for hot summers,of achieving nothing,of lying under the neem tree , awaiting monsoons to roll in

The hot , still , muggy evenings . The rolling thunder making your heart race , in anticipation

Is it childhood again ?

Discovery of lost love in music, the classics,the humming of them,

the boldness to sing

Is it childhood again, that my children around me are ushering ?



A race or a quest



yes i have it too ,infact i suffer from it

it is not, rather , of the next car upgrade , the private school that my kids need to go to , the accolade that i must win, the places that i must visit

it is not about how far am i in the race

it is rather about what is yet to be discovered in this quest

the quest

to learn from mistakes and the audacity to make another one

the quest

to reflect at the end of the day (when there is nothing to do anymore till the next ) and discover what new(good or bad) did I do today ? (There always is something)

the quest

to express gratitude towards whatever I got to do , today

the quest

to make things better , for the folks around me, folks directly or indirectly connected to me.

knowing that

the quest will carry on,


and I need to be making mistakes,reflecting and expressing gratitude

and making things better


image via ~|~

Am I in my senses?


I closed my eyes and the memories took me to a place that I pined for, wish that place had missed me too

I closed my eyes and the fragrance took me to a day of triviality, wish triviality took me seriously too

I closed my eyes and the touch took me to a day of pleasure,wish pleasure was obsessed with me too

I closed my eyes and the hum took me to a day of rejoicing, wish someone sang back to me too

I opened my eyes and ,

I wish I would have never opened them 


Gif source – Tumblr


Ajmer Sharif



mein Moin de rasta,usdi waat,usdi awaaz pehchaan dee si

oh khetaan which buldaan naalon waadh hungaa laaunda reha

tarke to shaam

tarke to shaam


osda deedar hoya

mein keha , “mein roti leaaye haan tere khattir”

“murg makhan which taleyaa”

“saag haandi aala”

“te mere niaare hatthan de naan”

parr us ne ik wee niwaala chakkhnaa taan ki,

mere wal dekheyaa wee nai ,

bas Ali de taak which Makke kani us deeyan akhaan giraftaar sigiyaan

usde bullan te bhukkh de nishaan nai , Ali daa raag siga

te mere bullan te Moin da