The Run

[Image by Jagriti Rumi; place – Dhenkanal, Odisha]

The trouble was near

And I could hear

Songs and shouts like

An old leaked mike;

The dance of the dead,

A wobbly white head,

Smiling bones hanging high,

Not at all shy,

Revels without a reason,

‘It is our season!’

They looked at me,

The key lost me,

I turned to run,

Spot running isn’t fun.

Funny dream I left,

Lights on, I slept.

See-ya reader! Ha-aaa haaa haaa!
[Image by Jagriti Rumi; place – Dhenkanal, Odisha]

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Failed Successfully

View from the window…
[Source – Pixabay]

Sitting by the window and watching the wind do its customary dance, Kent wrote a line in his diary and stopped. The line said, ‘I failed again.’ Dry leaves and twigs joined the wind hesitatingly…a bit shy but tending. Kent took a sip of his hot coffee. He flailed the pen in his hand and then began to write-

Again. I try and then I fail. I wonder how I have reached so far when all I can do is to fail. I sink low every time and it becomes difficult to make a comeback. The sympathy, the taking my side, the hiding my faults…I hate when people do this to me. It hurts me more. But I am the reason of the burden I am carrying.

After another sip, Kent again checked the rendition. He couldn’t hear it clearly but was sure about the charming song that the wind played. Huge trees rhymed along, they were so great yet so modest; nature knows some marvellous secrets that make it awe-inspiring.

I have nothing to say anymore. I wish I could visit Mrs Graceland’s house, the backyard and the trail that led to the jungle and the brook with leaves and twigs wafting in it.

If only I could sit there for some time alone. My heart would pour itself in the brook and I am positive that I could then breathe without feeling the knots. The jungle, the brook they don’t know that I have failed. They will not demand any answers nor will they console me. I will be with them and they’ll welcome me.

But with time things start eluding and you feel silent, empty and helpless; a mere bystander.

Kent’s sigh sounded heavy and blue. He searched for something in his room and finding it his eyes rested upon it; a wall clock that made him conscious and humble. He lost himself for some time. Coming back he looked at his diary and wrote-

I think I have failed in putting my thoughts in words. I am sorry dear diary. I think I should just stop writing and….

A green leaf in autumn.
[Image by Jagriti Rumi]

At this moment he found a leaf knocking on his window. He stared for few minutes waiting for it to fly away but it didn’t. He stretched his hand reluctantly and opened the window.

Taking the leaf in his hand Kent watched the scene and without waiting for his permission the wind touched his face and made his hair dance. A smile came on his face naturally.

The power of the wind amazed him, the music enthralled him; he could feel the spirit, the liveliness that was abundant in nature. Peeking through his window Kent stood for long in that position unaware of the clock, the pen, the diary, the leaf and himself.

It was getting dark. He forced himself to shut the window. With nature you don’t know when the time passes and if you happen to know you wish it to go slow.

Sitting back on his chair and before he could finish his diary entry, he examined the leaf in his hand. It was green. It was autumn. It was a message. Life loves to live. Who loves life lives…happily.

Kent finished his diary entry.

I can’t believe myself but I am going to try again, maybe I’ll fail again. It doesn’t matter. I’ll never stop walking because I never know what is there for me on the next turn. I am going to die one day, I don’t want to die before that.

Cheers to the green leaf!


And now, listen to Vashti Bunyan’s album Just Another Diamond Day, this is one of Kent’s favourite tracks, one that he listened to after finishing his diary entry –

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Charlie was a happy kid but his shoes were sad. The shoes weren’t wrong to feel so you know, because they were badly torn. White was their initial colour but now they looked dull brown and dirty green. Charlie loved the shoes; he loved everything, especially food. Most of the time, i.e. 93% to be precise, he had food thoughts like about a cupcake or a milkshake, a chocolate or a marmalade, or a lime pie perhaps. The other 7% he gave to the rest of the world that talked to him. Hence, Charlie lived in his tasty world and enjoyed it immensely.

That day while he was going to the school it started to rain. Charlie didn’t miss a single puddle on the way, making his trousers and shoes wet. The trousers were fine but the shoes weren’t. The water entered the shoes and soaked both Charlie’s socks and his feet. The shoes thought them to be a failure; after all they couldn’t protect the feet from getting wet. But Charlie didn’t know about remorse, rather he was relishing the sound that was coming from the wet shoes – ‘Puchuk Puchuk’.

Charlie had brought bread and jam that day for the lunch break and his mind was stuck with the wonderful image of the bread and jam (complementing each other so well). He had no intention to attend any class before the lunch break. Luckily his wish was almost granted. First of all he was punished in the assembly for wearing dirty shoes, which meant at least a ten minute late entry in the class. This was huge for Charlie. Nothing much happened in the first four periods that allowed Charlie to be out of the class, except twice for the toilet break. But his wet shoes took all his concentration from whatever the teachers were teaching and he never realised how the time passed.

Sometimes he was busy in making sounds ‘Puchuk Puchuk’ and make his bench mate laugh along or else he got himself involved in opening the shoes and removing the socks, then laughing at his pink wrinkled feet; then again wasting time in wearing them back. Oh! Time rushed quickly for Charlie, this is not a tough task for Time. It rushes…as if it’ll miss a train.

Back to Charlie, who is now eating his lunch. His eyes close every time he takes a bite. A delightful moment for Charlie, a fulfilment, a never forgetting instant. And the shoes are also not sad anymore. They are dried up and ready for a walk or even a run.

Charlie you radiate happiness. And I love you.

A Religious Goof

Wishes upon wishes burning                                  
Carrying prayers with air
Endless love and faith
With some clean care
Oil soaks oil lamps
Incense rubbing against air
Mood transcends but we
Are busy paying fare
We make the God
We create him here
Only to be afraid
And forget him there
Affordable power not manageable
Still we always dare
To act blindly and
Trust the Almighty’s heir

Go Mad!

Pip-pi-pipeee… It is time to go mad.
Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

It’s time to go mad, I told myself. The world looks best through the eyes of the mad.

Even history tells us so. But it’s not more about the world than it is about myself. I have seen right into the eyes of the mirror and all that is visible is a question mark.

Now I’ll check it when I am upside down, if nothing, I’ll at least enjoy the inverted me.

I’ll fly from now onwards, at least I’ll fall. I’ll follow the bird and visit its nest. I’ll keep a secret diary and make sure that it leaks.

Secrets are good only until they are not kept otherwise they are dull dead details yawned away by the majority.

I’ll rub the window clean with my hands so that the dirt makes my skin shine in black.

I’ll spin round and round and stop; I’ll shout loudly and then add a whisper to it; I’ll befriend the thorns and love the cuts…. Is it too much?

What is too much? Do you know it? Who knows it? No one!

That’s the real fact we forget. So why not find it out, by ourselves. Yes!

If not now than when…waiting for another life to do all that we dream about? That’s a strange fantasy to believe in.

Because you are not given new wings in the next life, you carry on with what you already own.

This almost endless journey needs a mad soul…mad for the goal.

That’s why I will go mad, I need this energy drink to drive me forward. I’ll hear no one, I’ll not act anymore, I’ll just be present. 

I’ll just be present… and also attend Mad Hatter’s tea-party.
Image by Clker from Pixabay

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The Pen Knows Not

I am a pen. I write. I decorate the paper with various styles. Recently I did some cursive work and believe you me it was fantastic. I can write about anything one can and cannot imagine. Mostly I deal with feelings, a heavy range. From love, anger and joy to dark, bizarre and alien. I find myself busy when topics like nature, god, politics and business are discussed.

I have been wondering for some time now about questions. Umpteenth questions come across when I am put to paper. Millions of them and some are very common like, what should I do, why is this happening, why me, how can he/she do this to me, where is god etc. I don’t like questions anymore, not because of the sudden increase in their number but because most are left unanswered. Just imagine how I feel with endless questions staring at my face along with that twisted question mark.

Oh! I have a question now…where are all the answers?

Anyways, my job is not that bad. In reality, I adore my work. Maybe that’s why I know calmness. I have good, light moments; I happily keep a secret a secret; meeting every emotion is in itself a great reward for me; I get to know a whole lot of things, you know science things. What I really-really relish is when I scribble and make faces on the margin of a sheet or the last page of a copy. I get a feeling at that moment of being with someone else, a connection, shared exclusively with me. Like I am in a vacuum with a confused mind or a happy smile or an angry look or a scared soul or a naughty remark and this gives me wings to fly.

Ha! Funny me!

I don’t know when I may dry, on which word, which feeling, so I keep my spirits up almost always as I already said I never know….


The sun was fiery, it was a blazing fire. And the path was fiery. The moon was serene, it was peaceful. And the path was peaceful. The trees canopied the earth, it knew all the secrets. And the path knew the secrets. The rivulet played music, it amplified the magic. And the path was magical. The soil was alive, it was the love of the plants. And the path felt the love too.

The traveller was walking on this path, barefooted. His feet could feel the path. The wind was also telling him something. The music he heard was intoxicating. Trees above him silently told him to stay, relish the hidden secret, because what is hidden could be found. He agreed and changed his path. A rough fresh path took him deep in the forest. He settled in the lap of a gigantic tree.

Lush greenery tickled him, relaxed him, and made him quiet. Time was moving but he had no knowledge of it. With eyes closed he was slowly seeping into the life around him. He could now feel their pulse. Some creepers were crawling on him. He was ignorant of it and soon was at bliss. The nature took over him. He became one with the nature – green, thriving, beautiful and tranquil.

A day came when he was overwhelmed to such an extent that his third eye opened. It spread a ray that was fiery, serene, quiet, magical, alive and full of love. That day his body became dust and we know nothing else as words, language and intellect falls short when magnificence takes birth.

Faded Yellow

The lovely faded yellow flower.
Image – Pixabay.

I saw a beautiful little flower on the road. The wind must have brought it on my way. It was crushed by someone and was faded yellow.

Extremely beautiful and what a smile.

Saying hello to me it beamed. I couldn’t resist my curiosity and straightaway asked it about its amazing colour…the depth of the faded colour had seeped in me.

I, somehow, could feel the faded colour, I was arrested by the colour.

Smiling again it said, ‘because of your eyes’. I didn’t understand the reply but I too smiled.

I was influenced, captured and enlivened by the faded colour of the yellow flower.

Smooth, dull, faded magic touched my heart. Its lightness entered me. I was with kindness, love and serenity.

The encounter was of a split second but the little crushed faded yellow flower left me beautified…forever.

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Know Time?

I never knew time moves
Then I saw it slip
I never knew time walks
But I saw it run
I never knew time loves future
Oops! I saw it kiss tomorrow
I never knew time is invisible
As I saw it in wrinkles
I never knew time is a quiet winner
Soon I saw it with the trophy
I never knew time and its friend
Strangely I saw it in my watch
I never knew time is kind
Again I saw it fall as a blessing
I never knew time is mighty
Only when I saw it with the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park
I never ever knew time
Jumping, crying, laughing, assuming
Truth is, I always knew time
I just never felt it
Until now

Behind All That Twinkling


This is a story of the Star People who lived far away on a beautiful star named Blue Blink. There is a reason why it was called so. The land of that place flashed a blue light since time immemorial. The Star People acquired energy from this radiant land and it supported everyone’s life. It was a very happy place, as all the Star People were satisfied with their lives. There was only one law in that place and that was the Law of Sharing. It was a rule, more of a habit, for the Star People to share their things, their feelings, and their lives with each person on the Blue Blink Star. Everyone knew everyone.

They worked and ate together, studied and played together, all the buildings were connected and so they also shared their houses. They knew nothing about anger, greed or ego. Though they understood death, they never shed a tear while biding goodbye to their fellow Star Mates, as they believed that their late friend would merge with the radiant land of the Blue Blink and still remain in touch with them. One who died on the Blue Blink Star was never forgotten; they celebrated a day, each week, in remembrance and in dedication to the dead ones. One could always hear songs and laughter from the Blue Blink Star as every animate and inanimate part of it enjoyed themselves and danced in the spirit of love and sharing.

One day a child refused to share his book with his friend on the Blue Blink Star. How could this happen? It was a bizarre act and the child’s parents didn’t know what to do. There were many books on the Blue Blink Star but each had only one copy, as people always shared it and mostly read it together. Soon the news spread everywhere that on the land of Blue Blink Star a child had refused to obey the law. It gave birth to a monstrous wave and everyone started disobeying the law. No governments or rulers ran that place. The administration was run by handful of volunteers, but things got imbalanced then. The Star People for the first time in their history came across the feeling called ego. Wherever the wave reached, that place lost its radiant blue light. A catastrophe had hit the happy people of Blue Blink.

There lived a Monk on Blue Blink Star. Everyone called him the Quiet Monk, as he never spoke to anyone but only meditated on a spot. Still he obeyed the Law of Sharing as the place where he sat was the most radiant on the Star. People weak or sick took energy from that spot and thus he helped others in this unique way. He had never opened his eyes, he simply sat and meditated and smiled. Now his spot was the only place which was left with any radiance on the Star, the only energy source. When all the Star People gathered around him, he opened his eyes and stood up. Everyone was shocked as the Quiet Monk spoke for the first time. He said, ‘I would like to meet the child who refused to share.’ His harmless and rather sweet piercing voice was heard by all, even who stood at the very end. The child came forward, he didn’t look afraid but his parents were, because ego gave birth to such feelings like fear.

The Quiet Monk asked him, ‘Is the story very interesting?’ All including the child were clueless for a minute and then the child replied with an exciting smile, ‘Yes! Very interesting! Do you know when the superhero enters with a bang…’ and saying this much the child went silent as everyone around him were looking at him blankly. ‘No…I don’t know how interesting it is, and neither I nor anyone, including your friends, will ever know how good the book is. And you will also not enjoy the book to the fullest because you can’t talk about it with anyone for no one would know what you are talking about’, said the Quiet Monk. The child was quiet like all the Star People. The child, looking down, then said, ‘I… didn’t know so…’

The Quiet Monk smiled when the child said so. Then he spoke, ‘Everyone, please listen to what I have to say. The Law of Sharing is the greatest law in the Universe, sharing means increasing of whatever you have; as you followed it till now you faced no problem, every individual shared everything with the other including himself, this pure and selfless act made you closer to the radiant land of our Star, you all took energy easily from it and used it for the good of all. As and when you stopped, the pure and selfless connection was lost.’ The Star People were speechless after hearing this.

Before they could say anything, the Quiet Monk added, ‘Life is lived to the fullest if lived for others. It is only the Law of Sharing which promises true happiness. If the feeling of sharing dies, life loses its most essential flavour and becomes bland.’ A realization had struck all, the child was sorry as were the rest and with tears mixed of shame and rejoice they hugged each other. First thing they did after this was sharing a forgiving speech within their now awakened group… and then laughing together. Since then no one questioned the Law of Sharing and the Blue Blink Star continued shining and twinkling forever.


I looked at the kids, who expected something more but I said, ‘Kids that’s the end.’  I knew Jim and Esha would not say anything, they were too young but Leon was in seventh standard and was a studious kid, I expected some remark from him. He did speak after thinking for a minute and said, ‘Uncle Sheldon we have read in our class that stars twinkle or shine because of refraction caused by small-scale fluctuations in air density….’ Here I interrupted, ‘Leon you are out here in the open for a camp and you can see the sky shining with millions of stars, with millions of stories not known to us and all you can think of is this definition that your science teacher told you to memorize? Didn’t you like the story?’ Leon replied, ‘I liked it… but it is imaginary.’

I was shocked to hear that, what are schools teaching the kids these days, only to learn facts and to discard imagination? I told Leon and little Jim and Esha who looked enchanted by the starry sky (not bothered by my and Leon’s conversation), ‘Listen you three, imagination is as important as studying the facts. Just see my imagination took you to that Blue Blink Star over there.’ Hearing the last sentence, both Emily and Jack suppressed Leon’s another technical question and shouted in chorus, ‘Which one Uncle Sheldon?’ I took my telescope and adjusted it in such an angle that a bright blue star was visible twinkling. Jim and Esha pushed each other to see the Blue Blink Star first. In few seconds Leon joined them too.