When Silence Speaks...

Guilt is a hunter. Fear is a hunter. Shame is a hunter. Fate is a hunter. This novel reaffirmed my faith in good writers. The last few WWII novels that I read left me disappointed, there was always something lacking. I was told by a friend that maybe it's because I am reading too many similar genre books that they don't excite me anymore. But if we have good artist, even the billionth book or painting or movie on the same subject can still make it's audience catch their breath. " The poet Emerson said that when we have worn out our shoes, the strength of the journey has passed into our body" -The Shoe Poet. I liked Ruta's style. How she is making us constantly read every character's thoughts on a given situation. And, yet the story is not stuck in that moment, it keeps moving. To keep switching sides and analyzing conflicting views at the same time, it's a different reading experience.  I loved all the characters, they grow on you. The way she chose to

I am not a relationship guru. Never was.  And have never understood what it really means either. I believe, no one is an expert when it comes to emotions. Having said that, I also believe in a simple logic, something that applies to all aspects of life, especially relationships -  Communication . It's strange. All the tools and techniques that are forced upon us as kids, is to enable us to communicate. Alphabets, words, languages, speaking, writing, reading, listening, analyzing  - all the skills that we spend a good part of our initial 20 years, focus on our communicative abilities.  And what do we do with it?  For the rest of our lives, we shy away from using those skills in the situations when it's most needed. What's also strange, is compared to olden days, today we have more platforms that enable different mode of communication. You don't want to meet in person, you have FaceTime or video calls. You don't want to see or listen, you can leave voicemails. Or just

I remember the first time you laid hands on my shoulder, and we both knew instantly that we were made for each other. Well, the first few days was special for both of us. We both, trying to take care of each other and giving special attention to one another.  I remember the glow in your eyes when you had named me - Bagheera. You had a way to make it sound cute. I enjoyed the races with your college friends, your favorite hangout places, those stunts you would pull off. I loved the romantic double rides with your girlfriend, although at times you would have very cheesy conversations, but I loved listening to both of you. I have silently watched you sit alone at the bank of the river, when you would be lost in some distant thoughts. We would sing together when you were happy, ringing my bell and humming weird songs. We both loved the wind against our face on the downhill rides. I could always feel your grip loosen on me, like you were ready to fly.  I had felt a stab of betrayal when you

  जो मुहोब्बत का इज़हार किया  तो इलज़ाम लगा नुमाइशगी का | जो टूटे दिल का दर्द छिपाया  तो इलज़ाम लगा  बुज़दिली का | जो हर हाल में इलज़ाम लगना ही है  तो फ़रियाद कैसी और किस से | और जो इलज़ाम ले ही लिया है  तो क्यों ना आशिकी में ही बदनाम हो लें | 

There it was.  I was cleaning my bathroom cabinets and it was hiding in the bottom shelf.   A small plastic pink soap box. I held it and was instantly taken back to year 1999. When I had been in a hostel for the first time in my life. For the first time I was staying away from home, away from my family, all by myself in some unknown place with strangers. Not until 7 years later that I finally moved out of home and started living independently, did I experience that same nauseated feeling again.  But that day, that moment, it was going to be the first time in my life, staying away from my family, and first’s are always special. It’s funny, how this pink soap box takes me on a time travel right back to that moment. The school was just about 15 minutes walk from our home. But that year they had some summer camp, that required kids to stay for 15 days in school’s hostel. I remember my uncle and mom dropping me off near the hostel gate.  It’s funny, because I d

Just like any other bridge, this one plays a role of connecting you and me. Some are brand new, very inviting, clean and pure, presenting to be strong, yet to get exposed to the harsh reality of life. Some have weathered in many seasons, with few bars of railings missing, few broken planks, yet they stand strong, like huge metal bridges.  Some are reinforced with fresh materials every few years, so we stay connected strong and safe for entire lifetime.  Some are beyond repair, standing there rusty and broken. Not because it's impossible to fix the gap, but just waiting for equal support from the other side to mend it. Some were meant to serve one another just once. The need to cross that bridge never arose again, doesn't mean we don't remember how important that bridge was in our journey. To new and old, deep and shallow, strong and weak, connected and broken friendships, I am grateful to have known you one way or another.  Happy Friendships Day! 🍻