Sunday, December 25, 2016

Man(un)kind

The horrible videos of the suffering of children in Aleppo makes one wonder about the perpetrators of such crimes. Whatever be the cause of the fight, is it so much more important than lives? Is it just the piece of land, or the politics or the fragile ego that is more important?

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Social Medi-ot

Morning, in the midst of the whirl
A message pops with a tone of twirl
I pause my work and to the phone I rush,
Fearing something exciting I will miss

Friday, December 16, 2016

Thinking and Thinking

That moment between thinking and not thinking.
That moment between thinking and acting on that thinking.
That moment between thinking and acting on something without thinking.

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Inching Up Step by Step

"I got A+ in English, and aunty said very good for one of my essays," my son said with a broad smile. My heart jumped with joy. In the previous exam, the first he was writing in his 9 years of schooling as the initial years were in Montessori, he had shocked me when he said, "They asked me to write what I want to be in 20 years. I wrote, cricketer. What ma, they gave 20 lines to write! What am I supposed to write for 20 lines?"

Monday, December 5, 2016

I Pray

Photo courtesy: Srikant Ranganathan
I pray, I pray, I pray

For what?
The mortal body
That will leave us one day?


For health?
That will fail
As we slowly age?

For wealth?
Which we will leave
When our soul flies away?

Sunday, December 4, 2016

A Tough Match

She swung her racket and then paused in disappointment. She had missed. The silence was deafening, accusing her of failure.
It was coming at her again and she swung again. This time, the crackling sound as the mosquito hit the electric racket brought a smile to her face.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Innocent, Who?

I was taking my customary evening walk a bit late in my apartment complex when a bunch of children came running my way. They were 8 years and younger, boys and girls, prancing around the complex in a carefree manner. My own children were upstairs, their curfew time starting earlier than that of these children.

One of the girls suddenly chimed, "Aunty, your son threw stones at us."

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