Capturing a moment, a poem.…
Browsing Category
Rambles, Rhymes and Tales
I woke up early in the morning. Somehow I knew it was early in the morning. But, one thing I didn’t know. Where was I? I glanced at the ceiling. A fan, brown in colour, was running at a normal speed. On the right side was the attic, covered with beautiful wooden doors. The walls of the room were coated in dark pink colour. ‘This room is beautiful’, I thought. Still lying on the bed, I glanced to the other…
My dreams were small, never so big When you show a big dream, I don’t know what to do with it I never dreamt for a car, or any vehicle to own I loved going by bus or walk as far as I could go Any car, whichever size, was just a box with wheels for meWhen you buy me a big car, I don’t know how to react to it I never dreamt of diamonds or any glittery things…
more than 3,300 years ago it is believed, god gave the torah to the jewish people on mount sinai. shavuot celebrates this deeply spiritual moment, with prayer, joy, gratitude, the reading of the commandments, and of course, food. in this case, food with dairy is customary. every year, just before shavuot, which is celebrated in may/june, my husband reminds me we must have lots of nice dairy dishes and desserts at home. clearly thoughts of buckets of ice cream, cheese,…
durga Rambles, Rhymes and Tales
Reservations: An observation – All in good humour
Posted on June 3, 2019
Dealing with reservations is a part of life. Whether one needs it or not, it is inescapable. Whenever I fill out an application form, whether it’s for applying for a course or a job, I always get peeved at a certain point. Among details like name, age and qualifications, there is this little tab that asks us to fill in our religion. I always wonder what purpose this little information would serve to the institution or organisation. How would this…
my world collapses every now and then in the middle of an afternoon under an indolent sun when the air doesn’t move and the fan’s whir is a reminder of a thousand other worlds in a million different snapshots of time that linger as languid as the mid year sun minstrels of all my worlds that did sooner or later coalesce and cease the earth turns inexorable, programmed i am time’s magnet, how can it escape now it races, now…
It is always hard for a new mother, whose maternity leave is about to end and they have to go back to work. Not just them, it’s hard for every mother, who leaves behind their baby, to complete a chore or have to go out regularly for some purpose or another. It is never easy. The heart wails, not wanting such a situation to come. But then, they do come. This poem depicts the feelings of the mothers when they…
she’d not seen yellow butterflies take over the strawberry patch or the beds of nasturtiums, dog flowers, and phlox in the garden. she hadn’t run through yellow mustard fields under wide open skies, and felt the drag of wind in her hair, the rub and scratch of mustard greens on her arms and legs. she had never seen buttercups growing wild on a hillside. no, she’d never seen or felt any of that. she had lived all her life in…
sometimes, i think, just let it go even if most certainly absolutely positively you know something someone’s saying is not quite so just let it go strange how those lines came out rhyming was it my thought or was it the timing you know, astrology and stuff that keep stymieing nuptials and negotiations, the stars and their diming? but really, just let it go even though reality may be different yet who’s to tell it is just so isn’t yours…