The funeral of a white rose

In a garden of red roses, she was a white one and her whiteness was even more pronounced for being singular in all the redness around her.

Yet, she did not derive her beauty from the striking difference of hers but it was of deeper material. For unlike her friends in the garden, who thought that after a period of blossoming, they all will die, she knew that before withering away, she must bloom!

Bloom,she must but not in a routine manner but like a princess, so that even for a second, but the universe must stop and admire her.

And it did.

For all the artists passing the garden, painted her, all the writers penned down classics on her and oh the poems…..

Yet, they were not about her bloom only, rather they were odes to her death!

This is why white roses are presented at the funerals, not because they symbolize death but because they honour it.

So you see children (and adults), when we live well, we die even better and in doing so, we live forever.




20160311_044115All your life you’re told to look inside yourself. Well if not directly, then in some indirect way. Like for example, you are told to read books and you do that and end up learning about all the soul-searching. So years after that you somehow decide to do that,the soul-searching I mean.

You simply pause all the lalalalala going on inside your head,the dha dha dha in your heart and whatever thuk thuk thuk happening to your soul and there is silence. Everything is still, stopped, except your eyes! Your whole being gathers together as a pair of eyes and sets to observe your innermost self….your core! These eyes of yours do so, just like your worldly self goes to an art exhibition and examines everything, searching for something extremely interesting, thought provoking, shocking, even sad, in fact anything of substance!

But Alas!

There is not a single thing of interest and your searching eyes find nothing of significance inside you.

So you realize that you are EMPTY to the core!

On Being Your Own Enemy

Beads of perspiration were visible on her forehead. It was not because of the heat as the room was fully air-conditioned. She was only nervous but then she always was! At least ever since her mother had left her to work at baji’s house. She was afraid of making any mistake, particularly today as there was some special party going on. She knew nothing about it. The only thing she knew was her intimidating baji and her wrath if she messed up.

Sakina, an 11 year old girl kept rubbing the furniture clean waiting to be called inside and be humiliated in front of all the bajis but it didn’t happen. She chanced a look inside the drawing room but nobody noticed her as every woman was busy shrieking, her baji being the loudest, Happy Women’s Day!


Things of importance,

Are always in twos

I presume.

Sadness, joy

And then

Sadness resumes.


Moments shared with you

Are always lived twice.

Once what angered me

I laugh at it and rejoice


And then I remember

The rainy december

We’d laughed till we got

All tired

Now I looked back at that time

and cried.


I live my every moment with you

In two alternating shades

Once with you

And then again

As your presence fades.