a poem…
Browsing Tag
love
Love stories, there have been many since agesBut few that connect heartbeats and breezesEntwined into a bond, by the pool of mysteryIt’s a besotting saga of Arnav and Khushi The attraction was there, right from the startIn spite of all fights, they couldn’t be apartInseparable they were, during war and peaceTheir heartbeats became one in the presence of breeze Their separation was painful, their unity sublimeTheir love only strengthened with the passage of timeTheir story enthralled us and made us…
sarees tell stories
a saree not so pretty, and a lady who came to mean courage
Posted on August 13, 2019
sarees, the word conjures an image of colours, bold and bright, swathes of rich fabric, motifs and intricate weave... but not all sarees are like that.…
can ads change the world? i have no idea. should advertising, a clearly commercial pursuit, even venture into discussing things that matter a little more than buying the next thing… again, i don’t know. but as a copywriter, i often felt you could add something to your story… a little kindness, a bit of laughter, some protest even if the time for that had come. just a feeling. of course, there are public service campaigns, but i am speaking more…
“unpalatable to the lord of death! first among the monkeys!! you’ve seen five feet of the snake?? burnt face, extract of low stock!!” jomer oroochi! bandorer ogrogonno!! shaaper paanch pa dekhecho?? mukh pora, bodjaat!! the swear words flew fast, interrupted only by indignant breaths, equally rapid. the frail old lady’s voice got more stentorian with each word, the affront in it resounding. “return them this moment! return them now, i say!” she bellowed, her small frame shaking, her chest…
it’s a favourite saree of mine, and now it’s fraying. a strange kind of pain at this weakening of closely entwined threads, at this clear signal of mortality, at passing. it’s a saree from orissa, now the spelling has been changed to odisha; we spend a lot of time changing spellings for some reason. my mother and i bought it, around thirty five years ago, from one of the saree shops along triangular park in kolkata (we changed that spelling…
i must have been four when i saw the taj mahal. been back many times since then. i love the gardens, the fountains, the humongous entrance, the grace, the people looking expectant, taking funny pictures, the sange marmar… the white marble; finding out mumtaz mahal and shah jahan wasn’t exactly a fairytale romance didn’t spoil the fun (c’mon, he threw pearl necklaces at her in the meena bazaar, didn’t he… and if he didn’t, too bad for him). the…
my heart was in a battlefield today defeat had touched my dreams truth as i had always known it to be writhed torn and begged to breathe demons came raging from hidden caves demolishing my faith, denouncing my dawn mortal wound crushed my land as it lay twined in my ambushed heart then a sound came near from far away so far it exceeds all my reach and yet it was here, carried on another sound whose decibel…