The Redemption

The Redemption

Temporary Love

Permanent Lust,

Spiritual Pain

Sexual Pleasure,

      Adult Innocence

  Childhood Rape,

Drug Insertion

Internet Ejaculation,

Tearful Happiness

Smile of Sorrow,

Ugly Dimples

Beautiful Redemption,

True Story

False Allegation,

Gentle Wave

Rough Seas,

Intentional Insults

Accidental Praises,

Silly Thoughts

Intelligent People,

Sweet Tooth

Bitter Truth,

Terrible Sight

Lovely Eyes,

Trustworthy Gun

Cheating Rose…


and the Bugle was heard again..


Everyday is just another day or probably it is not and like everyday I, like many out there, hurried to work with a my hair rolled up in a tight bun. Yes, it was just another day, just another day …

Source: and the Bugle was heard again..

and the Bugle was heard again..


Everyday is just another day or probably it is not and like everyday I, like many out there, hurried to work with a my hair rolled up in a tight bun. Yes, it was just another day, just another day of many out there, like me .. but probably not just another day for the souls who were lost in the war.

Today is Remembrance Day, here in England, where I stay. All observed a two minutes silence as a mark of respect to who were lost in the fierce battles of WW1 (any battle), I heard the bugle. I heard a tune which was very familiar to me, The Last Post.  For some reason, unknown to me it send shivers down my spine. The Bugle spoke to me again after many years.

The Bugle has had many meanings for me since I grew up as a proud daughter of man who served the Indian Army all his life. The bugle signalled me war, the bugle whispered me half mast as if the Flag was sad and, a very sad connotation for numerous innocent souls lost, the bugle has always spoken to me volumes, the Last Post on the bugle has always meant ‘something has ended’.

End, where is the end? As Plato ones said ‘ Only the dead have seen the end of war’. For some there is no end to war, for some the war ends but there is no closure. The Bugle tells me, that there is no closure. No Closure, whatsoever, because all wars are meant to end all wars, but they don’t. That is what the humble bugle reminds
me off. No Closure, because the end is always near for those who survived, or were survived by loved ones.  When I see my flag unfurled that is when the Bugle plays in my mind, it plays The Last Post because I never forget those who were lost, just, so that we could see the flag unfurl, free against the sky.

The Remembrance Day shall pass and I, like  many others, will get back to being what I am. A girl rushing to work, her long hair rolled up in tight bun. The Flag shall always stay, standing tall, unfurled probably making everyday feel like Remembrance day, soulful bugle will keep reminding of those who gave us and made us what we are today, Free. Lest we Forget!


to the Infinity…


She stared out into the Infinity..



She started out into the infinity

Hoping to seek answers from the stars

Which, twinkle just like her two eyes.


She started out into the Infinity..

Seeking the placidness from the moon

Which, glows just like her face in love..


She started out into the Infinity..

Asking a million questions to the vast Galaxy,

Which, accommodates all, just her mighty heart..


She started out into the Infinity..

Pleading to the clouds to clear off

Which, for long have blocked her vision


She started out into the Infinity..

Forgiving, the numbness of a silent night sky

This creates loud banging noises in her mind.


The Infinity does not seem to answer,

The Infinity, although has the answers,

Which, she cannot find..


This is a small Tribute to Princess Diana, the Princess of Wales, who tragically passed away in 1997. The candle has burned out  but it still seems to light us.





Some things are unanswered

Somethings are just unsaid

Somethings are unclear and 

Somethings are bewildered…. 

Somethings are left for time to solve

Somethings remain buried

Somethings live with us

Somethings are lost even before delivered 

Somethings are distant memories

Somethings have tragic ends

Somethings survive and

Somethings shine like a diamond in the night sky

Somethings we go in search off

Something are just a mirage 

Somethings we create and 

Somethings are God sent 

Somethings need attention 

But a few things need courage 

Else,  the love ends….. 

An arranged affair…


The outsiders failed to understand the concept of the arranged marriage in the era of free love.. The foreigners found it extremely strange for parents choosing a spouse… I was also blamed of being lazy and of not doing my “job” well… 

The idea of this write up some to my mind when I was trying to roll back and on the affairs and flings I had or my friends did… I found love in a “hopeless” place… I found love in the arms of a stranger, whom I never met before marriage… 

The initial phases were strangely excellent where two friends seemed to have met… Love grew and continues to grow day by day.. It nurtures .. Ones in this you tend to love and hate at the same time!! 

Arranged marriage is the most beautiful affair I have ever had.. It is just underrated..  With time every beautiful song becomes “the person” ..  With time you feel it becomes the wine : with age it just gets better.. Being married to a stranger keeps my faith alive that love happens and can happen again..

For the believers of love, this is pure bliss… My arranged marriage affair is a beautiful one …
Keep the faith up… All the people in love …. And all the ones those who are broken….  Certainly there is this “certain” some one for you! 



Like a river and not a ravine,
it flows, goes and tows.
the generosity of love,
in this world, Your Holy Shrine.Travelling through the wide lands,
the forests and mountains
cutting through the rocks,
and seeping through the sands.Who stops you?
Why don’t you stop?
Do you grow old?
But, I do,  like a haggard beau!

Just when obstacles show you down,
you create shapes like the ox-bow,
you do look lovely even then,
seems you have shades to show!

One day you will meet your end,
just like all do,
you will bury yourself
in the lap of the seas,
after all death is certain and true.

Death is not what makes you shine,
its you identity, entity
of passing through the obstacles
creating ripples, on everything you touch
your love, care, help; you so kind!

Trees need you, animals do too
but, who remembers your story
that you were brave
to pave your way through!

You have no weapons,
then how do you fight?
I know, it’s your shower of love,
strength, glory and might.

Flow till you bury,
life isn’t long
but, a life lived for others,
‘is worth it’
is glorified in your song!

A letter to the angry saviour 


Dear angry saviour, 

This letter is to find we’re you are in The pink of your moods and feeling absolutely glorious about your envisages 


You have been extremely brave and courageous to have served the nation not only at wars but even when the country was battered by natural calamity.

 And communal riots……
You have recovered bodies from snow clad mountains and also of your own fellow mates! Isn’t a an easy task… 
The hot desert and the sub zero temperatures of the glacier didn’t stop you, but then, what stope you now? Why are you an interesting headline of the “breaking news”, well forgotten two days later.
Are you angry with your fellow citizens, who sit at home and watch you arrive, wrapped in the Tri- colour, unloaded from an Antonov, saluted at and the regiment war cry screeching the skies! 
Are you angry, that you deserved to be at the award functions in place of the politicians and Bollywood stars? Do you feel frustrated when a film star meets you at your bunker and dances, gets a “star” treatment but doesn’t remember your name maybe, when you, yourself become a star…..
I realise what you have given when I see my flag, free and unfurled… Come back angry saviour, the country will always need you! 

Live For Me……


Live for me and I will live for you,
Life is so true for you and me, of course,
When we both touch the blue!

In this wilderness and madness
a rat race everywhere,
Somewhere you have lost me, and
I have lost you

What is the cost of lust
love, today charges too!

They said love knows no boundaries,
say love knows no rules,
to have loved a man’s poetry, after his death, is love too!

I have not known him,
Where he was born and where he died
Or,  what did he do, who cheated whom,
He had lots to say for sure  and I want him,
I confess with a sigh!

After years of his end, i find a few books
of his in debris,
I pick one, read through,
fall in love and think through the night,
what a man was he!

This ain’t lust
This ain’t love, maybe
These are the tears that want to flow
for the grave of his lost son
which he  mentions in his poetry, melancholy!

I am your disciple
Going on your principles,
Walking on the lines you drew.
Forgiving and forgetting your murderers
may be that’s what you wanted to teach me professor,
I got the clue.

I love you is a small expression,
This world did not know you,
You live in me
so, live for me and I live for you

India – the land of the Goddesses

India – the land of the Goddesses

This was about a month or two back when I was just bored of the usual data flow and office work, I just happened to check news and there it was… On the very first page of BBC (. For the india ) section, they had reported the case of two girls from badayun, Uttar Pradesh being raped and hanged on the branches of a tree. My reaction to this article was the same as it would be to anyone, but to my dismay, I was ashamed that such a news spread about India, As the most “important” news.

This article kept me wondering, rather, took me a back! The emerging superpower and the quotes like “India shining” faded away in a quantum of a second. The case of nirbhaya had made no difference and somewhere deep within, we all knew it wouldn’t make a difference anyway! The candle marches, followed by a few bills pAssed in the parliament may be and a random t- shirt or a new “women handbag” friendly pistol by Kanpur ordnance factory, may be. More than this, did we really expect anything else to happen??
Again, much to my dismay, there was a list of rapes in india which had been long forgotten. Is that is how india is portrayed.

The cradle of so many customs, India, was ones known as the birthplace of so many religions. This country had a uniqueness, India was known for so many goddesses! Dating from the Indus Valley civilisation’s “_female figurine” or the mother goddess , to Durga, KAli, Lakshmi, sarswati, usha , all these goddesses were personifications of the powerful creations of the nature and it’s forces. The essence of living, why are these Gods “females”, is something wd need to think about.

My recent random travel to bahuchara Ji mata, one of the shakti peeth, was a temple for the eunuchs or the “third gender”! The eunuchs pray a goddess and not a god! Also, please pardon me my half knowledge about the vast mythology but I find gods accompanied by goddesses or their better halves.

We live in a land where women are the “gods” or next to the supreme force, but are we so much into idol worship that we have forgotten the living creatures those Goddesses are personified from ?