Morning Walk

A yet-to-wake-up-from-sleep body..
Picking up the pace of the day in the morning walk..
Replenishing the tired soul to live yet another day of test, turmoil, dejection, love, friendship, success and fatigue..
Gathering all the healthy spirit..
From the man exhausting his energy running to the winning line..
From the guy jogging to make an impression on his girl..
From the girl working out to better her curvy figurine..
From the friends running in the joy of their coherence..
From the clan discussing worldly issues working their gossips out ..
From the old walking their limping legs in the hope of an extended but healthy senility..
From the kids running behind their mom and pop knowing no bounds of their energies..
From the birds mirth in the serene time of the day..
From the loner regaining the lost tranquility of his busy life..
And when all of them fail to cheer me ahead..
Then from the breeze that swayed across my sweating face and whispered..
“Come on .. Keep going .. U can .. run .. Run for those who cared for you .. Run for those you care for.. Run for you.. Run for life..!! “
And….. I Live !!

My TOUR to our terrace !!! – a small funny story

2-3 days ago ..when I felt that I was being strangled by the confined man-made structures around me
and was longing to feel myself present in perpetual space … I decided to go upstairs to my apartment’s terrace ..
our building has a pent house on the 5th floor on top of which is a terrace with a ladder to climb on to it..
accompanied by my Ipod I walked up there and started to enjoy myself with the tunes cheering my tour to the terrace..
It was hard for me to stare into the skies and load myself with thoughts .. though I have to say that the dark space above you looks amazing with loads of twinkles to count …
I wished to play the role of a merry kid .. And started to move myself to the tunes in rhythm..
Though I felt cautious for a while that I have taller buildings around me and people living in them can mistake me to another mental Krishna for wobbling on the terrace at 10 in the night .. I taught myself that having fun for my own self I have no time to bother myself with my surroundings..
After few minutes of acquaintance with space out there .. I found myself trying to balance on a small brick lying there ..
it’s been fun rolling my hands in all ways to gain balance on the brick..
after a few moments of glee and effort to stand strong on it .. I jumped off it like a kid.. taking pride in all the balancing act I did so far ..
synching myself back to the rhythm of the tunes playing in my ears .. I took a swift turn back as a part of one of my dancing moves .. and was awestruck to recognize that the hazy figure of a person who climbed half way through the ladder is my dad and took off one of my ear phones to find myself taken aback to hear that he has been shouting at the peak of his voice ..
waking myself from the trance .. I helped him come up the stairs and couldn’t stop giggling , as I could read through his mind.. after seeing me through all those balancing acts..
I knew that irrespective of it being my dad or whoever would take my act to be funny .. but answering to his enquiries was the real fun .. as I had no other answer but to say that I was enjoying just like that .. oorike .. and to every such answer I could see him more surprised at my silliness J..
He took a few minutes to scan the terrace and the water/lift facilities that our builders have setup , and also took the chance to see that the building beside had a sophisticated broadband instrument on their roof .. hope he took pleasure in the beauty lying above him .. the roof of the world from our roof..
We went down to our flat where my dad began to explain my mom of my deeds and i was happy to see him laugh while narrating it ..

It was a good time out there with a hilarious climax to my tour to the terrace J

Did u Listen ?? they are asking u for a treat!

Ever thought you need an exciting party to let yourself out of the tiresome routine..
Listen carefully there is someone else asking you for a treat..
Close your eyes..
to see what they dream to see..
Lower the decibels thumping on your ears..
to hear your heart pound the music that they yearn to hear ..Empty your to-do list ..
to find your mind wander in thoughts that it always loved to visit ..Outcast yourself from the man-made surroundings..
to feel the joy of your soul embraced in perpetual nature..
Unlearn the rights and wrongs , the good and bad , the do’s and the don’ts
to find your conscience do the justice..
Innocence discovers the purest of emotions that the kid inside can cuddle in ..
P.S : Starve your stomach until it can learn hunger .. then you will hear it begging .. to treat it with chicken 65 :) … yummyyyyyy :)

THINK OF THEM-- they are our responsibility ! ! !

“To me an Indian is one who has got a Vedantic brain which probes deep and soars high; an Islamic body that is vibrant and valiant; a Buddhistic heart overflowing with compassion and kindness and Christian limbs of service and sacrifice”
- Swami Vivekananda
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THINK OF THEM. ! ! !

He was sitting crouched, helpless in a nook of his ever big home. He knew that this was the same day that came yesterday. Not same in numbers but same in its daily routine, devoid of hope for future. He was sad and helpless not because the day wasn’t any different but because in his very big home he was all alone. Despite of having such huge mansion it was not possible for him to have one companion to think about him, to help him bring that difference, and neither was his home able to show him one corner that could shadow a shelter upon him.
He was one more orphan in the home of our country. He was one more soul longing to find a meaning for existence, his amorphous existence, but all he knows is to struggle for existence. Amorphous, in the sense, that he had no unique crystalline identity for his living.
He woke up every day from his sweet “never to become true” dreams where his life was acknowledged by success and recognition and above all a decent living. But it was always obvious for him to know what surrounded him the minute he enters reality, where he can see every other child take his role of his dreams. He was one of them who knew what education meant, to enlighten your role in this society. He knew it much more than others just because he was ripped off the chance to make his impression on his contenders (fellow generation). Physical existence took priority over eternal. He had to go for the least opted methods to earn his living.

He felt it crazy when ever he pitied looking at his fellow orphan eagerly looking out for help. Toughest of his daily routine was to accept people refusing to help him. He now realized that it was neither money nor a sudden transition in his abject living, all he searched for was a benevolent and feeling heart and a helping hand.
Despite so many people around him, it is strange that he became an orphan just because he lost his kith & kin. It should be the responsibility of we Indians (who live in the same house) to render the helping hand to needy and the homeless. Don’t let the hope die in those tender minds as they are the hope of our future India.


P.S: I might not be that good at bringing out agony of the homeless but all I want to give out is that our concern for them could at least keep their hope intact for some more time.


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Society comes first. “We have only one passion, The Rise of a Great Nation”

My First Love

October 12th evening 5’O clock

before u start reading it i request u to go through it twice

My First Love


I had been asleep for so long a time that I was not able to perceive my surroundings. I struggled to get out of the chains of laziness I guess with the strange gestures of mine. Of course that must have troubled my beloved ones who took care of me all these days where I had been hibernating. But now I start feeling the curiosity inside me growing hard to dismantle the scenario I had been ensconcing (comforting) in, only in order to show my gratitude towards my care taker. It was so long a struggle when my nerves were on the peak to burst out and my blood which was influencing not only the mechanism of my living organism but also my complexion which can be claimed as blood red with loads of assurance. As my ardor became contagious and people around begin working to get me out of this I suddenly experienced an anti climax where my gushing blood has retained its placid flow not only through my veins but all over me and I was awake. I later realized that it wasn’t mine, my blood, it all belongs to her.

I knew her for a long time. Truly speaking I knew only her for a long time. Now when she held my little finger in her hand I could feel the similarity in the warmth I experienced when the same fingers used to caress me (over the blanket that had been covering me) the time I required a lullaby. This time they were more perceivable and more warmth, her fingers. She was my mom.

She was happy to see her little dream come true while I was not. I was crying at the highest pitch that my vocal cords had permitted, but why. May be I was repenting for hurting her for the past few hours. Yet I was happy to see her happy.

I remember saying that I was awake but I still encounter a problem. Seems like my eyes have forgotten their purpose or they haven’t learnt yet what they are supposed to do. Everything around was hazy until I saw him. This is the first time I saw him but strangely I don’t feel him strange. He was all smiling with tears in his eyes, which have rolled down on to my brow when he first kissed me on my fore head holding me in his big warm hands. I knew it at the moment that he was in love with me, my dad.

Even now I believe that I can get to know my mom’s concerns and apprehensions in the warmth of her hand (or say her touch), and my success in the smiling tear of my dad’s eyes . They were my first love.