It isn’t in the honour or accolades that a writer breathes,
It’s in the inner peace that writing brings,
I write to feel the warmth of the written word,
It’s effect on this cold soul within.

Many years of happiness and pain,
Maketh a writer more supreme,
A writer known for their writing will inturn,
Suffer many more years of happiness and pain.

How different is a writer from a normal soul?
How elite is this crowd that pride?
Aren’t humans a part of the stories we tell?
Aren’t emotions that we shamelessly sell?

Humans above humans, we know not what we think,
It is all for praise for a job well done,
While another human sits to decide, with malice even,
If what I write is in any way worth his while… 


Being Hurt


Being hurt is a sign of being human. Maturity should not take that from us.


When we are in a situation that has no solution, what can we do? 

I saw an ad recently issued in public interest about men and crying. It seems it  is something that has been grilled into boys for generations. 

Boys don’t cry!  Ladke rote nahi hai!

My first born is a boy and oh boy , the way he cried just after birth. His cries have kept me awake for nights together when he had the hernia and he couldn’t express what was hurting him. 

My husband cried the day our son was born. He cries when he sees any of us in pain. It’s a natural feeling to be hurt or to cry. Gender has nothing to do with it. Neither does age or maturity. 

It’s all about how much of a human we are. The daughter and I are a bit too human that way. Some insensitive people call us “too” sensitive. We are proud of it though! And no, we were not “taught” to cry because we are women. 

Yes, I am hurt. I am not embarrassed to express it. My life isn’t what I wanted it to be. I am not all what I could have been. 

I never thought being a mother would make me want to not want anything more in life. But it did. Even though it hurt every step of the way. The hurt of seeing my children grow. The hurt of them preparing to start a new life. The hurt of the first few harsh words that teenagers use. I have been there , done that and I have a few grey hairs and wrinkles to prove it. 

I see pregnant ladies in parks and malls and wonder if they have any idea how dramatically their life is going to change. The second child adds to that equation, the complexity of being “fair” and of equality. It never a ends, the battle against hurt. Yet we embrace each new hurt with a smiling face. We are only human. Humans that need love, care, understanding and a reason to continue living.

Laugh when you feel happy, cry when emotions overwhelm you.

That’s what life is all about. The simple essence of it. The essence of being ourselves. About being open to hurt and gaining the ability to overcome that pain. We mature, we learn, we grow. 

7 regrets I confess


As part of the Festival Of Words at Write Tribe.


A post a day for 7 days this week. Today is the Seventh Day.

7 regrets I confess

1. When I read about this challenge, I was so happy to enrol for it. I had planned to write all the posts a week before, so that I can concentrate on the commenting and the replying.

The last week of August was the last week of summer holidays and this was a madhouse! Last minute homeworks, shopping for supplies, last minute outings, get togethers. It was an insanely messed up week. Hence, couldn’t plan the posts at all.

2. The day before the challenge began I drafted three posts. All incomplete, one with just a title. This helped get through three days.

After reading the other ideas that my friends were following for their theme, I wish I had done more homework for the posts. Mine were basically rants.

3. My blog has always been about me. I wanted to do something different this time. Something general and something informative.

I ended up talking about my emotions, my life and my vacations. How much more self obsessed can I be?

4. I made a few errors in language during the hurried posting during this challenge. I am going back to correct them now.

I had a terrible headache the past few days. I was finding it difficult to concentrate. So kindly forgive the goof ups. I promise I will be more careful next time.

5. I wanted to comment on as many posts as I can. I managed to do this on Day 1 , Day 2 and Day 3. On day 4 I had the worst headache ever.

I didn’t go to the doc because I will know what he will say. It is tension headache coupled with migraine. Not to add to this the fact that I read three books the week before and this is the result of that strain. I am practically a hopeless person

6. I wanted to write a bucket list here as my last post today.

I was going to start it off as ” What would I do if I knew I had only till end of the year to live….” . I changed my mind. I didn’t want to bag all the sympathy comments today.

7. I haven’t thanked the people responsible for this challenge and this experience enough.

I wanted to share more, I wanted to interact more. But by the time the clock strikes 12:00 pm here, I am already in bed with a terrible headache. I lost precious blogging and commenting time because of this.

Corinne, you are an amazing woman. You held all of us together through this entire challenge. I appreciate your ideals and your dedication. I promise my next challenge posts will be exquisite beyond anything you have ever read. Just pray that my head behaves like a good boy(notice how I equated pain to the correct gender). Yeah I know. I am a drama queen. 🙂

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QUOTE : Friendships



Friendships can be made in seconds, relationships take a lot more time. The former can end in sadness and the latter gives much more pain.

Love Begins…..


In the distance as far as the eyes can see,
And in the solitude of a lonely heart,
There lives a desire to be known to one,
There is a desire never to be torn apart.

From the initial feeling of attraction,
To the later stages of attachment,
The two lives go on to entangle,
So much so that they coexist as one.

Later when fate plays a role,
There always remains a pain,
The pain that is known to love as love,
And known to hurt in hate as love too.

Even then it never ceases to amaze me,
This falling in love and in pain,
For just as soon as one story is done with,
Yet another one blooms to begin.

***Love Begins***

—–Poems are always a work of fiction. That is strange considering the fact that life is poem in itself. Not everyone can understand it at one go. They have to be read again and again and sometimes read between the lines too——

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