Poems for KHUSHI

  Farewells amuse me. You must be thinking this is such an absurd statement to make, and you might be right. But, let me tell you why I find it amusing or let me use a more socially accepted term for this topic… hmmm…. How about ‘overwhelm’? Sounds more digestive…Right? So, let me rephrase my first sentence. Farewells overwhelm me and let me tell you why. What overwhelms me is the fact that all of a sudden there’s nothing else but only positive and good words to utter, that too with great sincerity. In the years of togetherness whether as family or friends or colleagues people have no time to notice those qualities, let alone appreciate them. Always too busy to ponder upon how that person has wronged us and we take no time in criticizing the same. But as soon as it’s time for farewell we suddenly get the wisdom to appreciate the qualities that we never noticed earlier or if noticed, never took efforts to mention it to him on his face. ‘I will miss you’, ‘Keep in touch’, ‘Take care’...

 12th September 2020 When we read a story, we enter a new world; a world which sometimes seems very much similar to ours and sometimes just like a dream. And as we progress through the pages we unknowingly become a part of this fascinating world. A sense of belongingness starts to creep through our bones and captures our minds and hearts like a traitor. A few days back, wearing my invisibility cloak, I entered the world of March Family or it would be more appropriate to say March sisters- Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. I was immediately drawn towards these sisters as each was similar to the other yet was different in her own way. Meg’s simplicity and dreams took me back to my 17 years old self when I too had my perfect ‘castle in the air’ in my head. Jo’s ferocity and determination reminded me of the times when I was too adamant to not give up on my dreams easily. Thirteen years old Beth’s humility and gratitude reminded me that there is a sense of pleasure in doing things for others,...

  5 th June, 2006   I started my career as a Pre-Primary teacher in one of the reputed schools of Nagpur. At 21, I had just finished my Post Graduation in Human Development and was full of energy and confidence to start my new life in the field of Education. I still remember that day in the month of May, 2006 when I received the call from the school, congratulating me for being appointed as a Nursery (age 3-4) teacher. I was on the top of the moon and was ready to implement everything that I have learned during my Post graduation practical sessions with kids.  I was the youngest teacher in the school and was welcomed by everyone with open arms. The Principal of the school was not only a knowledgeable lady but also very humble. She always welcomed new ideas and encouraged us to think out of the box during the training sessions. We started working almost a month before the students would join for the new academic year. Charts, lesson plans, flash cards, manipulative, books...

Such a cliché title, you might be thinking and my blog must have already been judged by you. But I’m guessing the question mark must have intrigued your curiosity. To be honest I was looking forward to this long weekend to write about a few things which were there on my mind from a long time and this topic was not at all in the list. But today when I sat to hit the keys on my laptop I realized it’s ‘Friendship Day’ eve and suddenly there was a hurricane of thoughts in my mind struggling to burst. I have met many people in my life, some have no parents, some no siblings, some have no aunts-uncles and some no relatives but I have not met a single person till date without a friend. Even the most narcissist person like Dr. House has the  most  humble friend like Wilson. So what makes this relationship so incomparable and pure? I think a simple fact that we get to choose it. In childhood being someone’s friend or having a friend was a big deal. You wouldn’t call anyone your f...

We can't sleep early. We can't sleep enough. We can't sleep together, One room, not enough.     We must wake up early. We must stand in a queue. We must not shit in pants Hold the shit like a glue. We must stop the fights Of the husbands and the wives That's the life in the chawl One lives till he dies. We don't save at all We don't get enough We live in today Future stays in the next suburb. We don't ask for rights We forget what is right We learn only wrongs We grow in the night. Our schools are full of us, But education. Talent isn't a big deal But opportunities limitations.  We aren't scared of cops We are habitual to the allegations We are habitual to the blame For this country's demotion. When we grow we can't reach The sky-filling branches of the tree Like a mushroom we have to be Be a shelter for the family. We are poets, We are singers, We are fi...

After spending two and a half weeks in the company of Woodhouse family and their friends, today my vacation has come to an end, and I have finally bid farewell to Highbury. What a splendid visit it was! It would be a shame if I do not show my appreciation towards the people of Highbury by thanking them for all the entertainment and solace that I found in their company.   To start with,I was lucky to attend the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Weston of Randalls on Day 1 of my visit. Although Mr. Woodhouse wasn’t too pleased about the wedding but in my opinion they were quite suitable for each other. Mrs. Weston, a very kind lady and Mr. Weston a noble man with pleasant manners were a match made in heaven; though Ms. Woodhouse boosted that she deserved all the credit for the match as it was her scheming which led to this arrangement. At  one  and  twenty , Ms. Woodhouse (Emma) is beautiful, smart, and witty with a little air of arrogance (which she is unaware of). B...

Being a girl born and brought up in an Indian joint family, I have always been taught to be respectful towards elders, kind with youngers and polite to everyone. Magic words ‘Sorry’, ‘Please’, ‘Thank you’, etc. used to be at the tip of my tongue. I was taught by my mother and teachers to greet people when I meet them and to respond to them whenever they talk to me. I remember, on many occasions when there were visitors at my home, I wanted to avoid meeting and talking to them but had to respond to their usual questions because it was a part of communication etiquettes. The only people I was not supposed to talk to or respond to were strangers or the ones who according to my parents were bad people. Talking to family and friends was never exhausting or forced. Letters and greeting cards were never enough to quench our thirst of getting in touch with our distant loved ones.  Making those short duration calls once in a while from landline during my childhood was nothing le...