A Winter Morning

His eyes were fixed on the steam coming out of his morning coffee on this cold winter day. He was wearing a shawl over his night dress and sitting in the small garden in front of his holiday home.

Somehow, the steam reminded him of her breath on a winter morning. How she pretended to make rings of smoke from her breath and how she failed to do so. He could almost hear the music of her teeth clattering in the chilly wind. The morning colors just resembled the pink on her cheeks during those cold days.

He remembered how delicate, how fragile she looked when she cozied herself in a blanket. He remembered the warmth when she melted in his arms and he hugged her with all the passion.

He removed the shawl and kept it aside. The winter was not very cold any longer.

Purchasing Memories!

Oh! Oh! That little red toy car with remote control, I always wanted that. And that gun with shiny yellow and red lights which blink every time the toy is triggered, that's so pretty.
Oh! Wow! Cotton candy or Balloon, or maybe both.
But if he got both, he may not have enough money for the magic show ticket at the fair. He also wanted to buy some popcorn and a soda.

His dad was the CEO of a multi-million dollar empire; but he only got $10 for the trip to the city fair.

"Lesser the money you have, more the memories", his dad had said.

Collector's Edition

He clicked frantically in the park, taking pictures of the kids playing around.

The little one in yellow on slide, the twins in purple playing on the see-saw, the blue-eyed girl in the sand box, the chirpy three playing Hop-Scotch, the dare-devil on the swings, the ones running towards their parents, the ones running away from them.

A few parents got concerned on why a stranger is clicking snaps of their kids.
"Who are you?" They asked
"I am a collector.", he said, "I collect antiques."
"Why are you clicking our kids' photos", They questioned
"Not them; their smiles! It is going to be a rare commodity soon", He answered.

The Confusing Truth

The sound of judge's gavel stopped the murmurs in the court room.

"Confident of his wife's betrayal, the accused shot his wife in their own bed. The weapon of murder has already been submitted to the court. It is a cold hearted murder", argued the prosecution.

"Out of her guilt of betraying her husband, she had already consumed the poison when her husband entered the room to shoot her. The post-mortem report has already been provided to the court. It was a suicide", countered the defence counsel.

The judge knew that both the counsels were right and he knew both the possible judgments would be wrong.

Truth can be confusing, at times!!

प्यार का पहला ख़त।

Here is my attempt to add some verses to the maestro - Jagjit Singh's magical work, प्यार का पहला ख़त


हमने खयालो में रहने की, मोहलत मांगी है,
इश्क के ख्वाबों को बुनने में, वक़्त तो लगता है...

आँखों के रस्ते से उनके, दिल को पढना था,
बंद किताबों को खुलने में, वक़्त तो लगता है...

छोटा सा कोई किस्सा नहीं यह, दास्तान अपनी है,
लम्बी कहानी के बनने में, वक़्त तो लगता है...

मीलों का रस्ता तो कट गया, तुमसे मिलने को,
आखरी चार कदम चलने में, वक़्त तो लगता है...

नये परिंदों को उड़ने में, वक़्त तो लगता है...

Independent Man

All his life, he had never been dependent on others. He was a self made man, worked his way from the bottom and finished at the bottom.
It was not that he did not want to be dependent on others; just that he never had that liberty. He had no relatives, no friends; a few acquiantances from the regular naggings of neighbours and abuses of colleagues.
He himself did not care to make friends, considering that he has just enough time to survive himself.
Today was going to be no different. Why was a small thing like death going to change his practice of a lifetime.
He finished digging the grave himself, entered it, and rested in peace.

Thank you men!

I am a woman.

I am a mother, a sister, a daughter, a wife; but I am more than that. I am me.

Every time I achieve a new milestone, I get a bit more appreciation than my other counterpart; because I am a woman.

Even in a crowded street with no breathing space, men ensure I am not pushed around; because I am a woman.

When I enter a general compartment of a Local train, more often than not, someone gets up and offers me a seat; because I am a woman.

I have special reservations everywhere, right from school admission to job selection to ladies compartment to parliament; because I am a woman.

I get away with bad driving, scratching someone else's car and at times, even minor accidents; because I am a woman.

My colleagues don't mind taking over my part of job at late evenings because they know I juggle between the kid and my job; because I am a woman.

I can express all my emotions when I want to and the way I want to, unlike my male counterparts; because I am a woman.

While every case where the male counterparts make my life difficult is analyzed and highlighted with a microscope; no one takes time to highlight the million cases where they try to make my life easier.

Here is to those millions of heroes who make it easier for me, a small gesture at a time!!!