Perpetually Yours



That willowy frame I saw in view,

Dusky skin that drew my gaze anew,

How you withdrew into yourself on my stare,

That nonchalant shrug, as if you didn’t care.

Unaware of what was good or bad,

You stood insouciant and glad,

Even though you’re no longer here,

Those memories still linger near.

Your dissolution has taken you away,

But the bond we shared remains, day by day,

Though you’re gone, your essence remains,

In my mind, heart, soul, it sustains.

Weekend Writing Prompt #307 –Dissolution

Written for # SAMMICOX’s weekend writing prompt- Dissolution (81 words)

Good afternoon and see you next time.

Greedily Yours


My heart aches with envy and desire,

Consumed by greed that never tires,

I’m like a bird in a gilded cage,

Yearning for more in a never-ending rage.

I hold a golden egg, but it’s not enough,

I want a golden hen to lay with golden stuff,

To have what others have, and even more,

To satisfy my hunger, to even the score.

Oh, to be content with what I have,

To be grateful and not crave,

How to find joy in the simple things and be brave,

And let go of this golden egg,

and nest that I so tightly save.

But will my envy ever cease,

Will my desire for more ever decrease,

Or will I always crave the golden fleece,

And be forever caught in this cycle of increase?

Oh, to break free from this prison of need,

To find contentment, to plant a seed,

Of love and kindness, of a life that’s freed,

From the golden egg and the endless greed.

Help me Lord! Thou shall be kind…

Good afternoon and see you next time.

Written for : Reena’s Xploration Challenge #275

Reena’s Xploration Challenge #275

Daughterly Yours


         You do not really get to realize that you are aging unless a fine morning, not your better half but your daughter who until now was thought to be a kiddy, admonishes you for not having gone for a morning walk. This is particularly true for all artists and more so for writers, I guess. We tend to write on hypothetical permutations, emotional culminations, ideal conditions, or extreme complicated issues which have got nothing to do with “normal sweet life’ which goes on at its pace be what may. This is exactly what happened to me this Sunday.

      I have carried over all the traditional wisdom & knowledge and undisturbed routine thereto of taking it a little easy on Sundays like many other fellow Indians. Owing to 3 days off from office in a row and no imminent spine-chilling policy level meetings scheduled for the coming weekdays, I took all the liberty of being the only boss in the only place that I can be, home, and forayed onto the heavy breakfast. But to my utter dismay, my daughter just in adolescence who I always thought was a nicely pampered child of mine, took that away and asked me to exercise first, since walk time was anyway over.  When I retorted, her answer left me bewildered as never, and she said, “so next time onwards, please do not preach me for any such thing like playing outdoor games in lieu of indoor games or exercising”.

      You know what is this called as- a perfect and absolutely Indian style of saying Papa, Don’t preach” with the only difference that someone more beautiful and outspoken than Madonna has said it. You won’t mind this Madonna Mam, Please don’t.

Good evening and see you next time.

Poetically Yours


                  Poetry is one of the tenderest mode of portraying delicate feelings, sensitive ideas and emotional outbreaks in humans. Audience reach to one’s poetry is as important as penning down nice lines of poetry itself. With the objective of enhancing reach to at least local audience of work by lesser known writers like myself, I did start a YouTube channel with meagre recourses that I could muster and I am satisfied with the response received so far, effectively in about a fortnight’s time.

                I urge all those who want to take their work to an audience beyond the blogging world to come out of inhibitions and not be even a fraction afraid of any kind of failures in such an effort . Please venture out to give more opportunities to your own work and that of writers you like by paving new avenues yourself in the language you prefer. Please remember that poets are noble hearted persons and they must be heard by many for a better world. Till you do it yourself, I would request and welcome short duration poetry (audio versions) of yours which can be mailed if you wish to. In the world we see today, language is not a bar as such, technological interventions have smoothened it considerably.

  Please like and subscribe particularly if you tend to understand even a bit. I sincerely hope to take it to the level I may contemplate it to go to and adhere to the noble objective envisaged at the same time.

Good evening and see you next time.


Solicitaría y daría la bienvenida a versiones de poemas suyos de corta duración que pueden enviarse por correo si lo desea. Por favor, dale me gusta y suscríbete especialmente si tiendes a entender aunque sea un poco. Acepte mis disculpas si se escribe aquí alguna traducción absurda o incorrecta.

Buenas noches y nos vemos la próxima vez.

Vorrei richiedere e dare il benvenuto alle tue versioni di poesie di breve durata che possono essere spedite se lo desideri. Metti mi piace e iscriviti in particolare se tendi a capire anche solo un po’. Si prega di accettare le mie scuse se qui viene digitata una traduzione assurda o errata.

Buonasera e alla prossima.

Eu solicitaria e receberia bem as suas versões de poesia de curta duração, que podem ser enviadas pelo correio, se você desejar. Por favor, curta e assine, especialmente se você tende a entender um pouco.

Por favor, aceite minhas desculpas se alguma tradução absurda ou incorreta for digitada aqui.

Boa noite e até a próxima.

Je demanderais et accueillerais vos versions courtes de poésie, qui peuvent être envoyées par la poste si vous le souhaitez. S’il vous plaît aimez et abonnez-vous, surtout si vous avez tendance à comprendre un peu. Veuillez accepter mes excuses si une traduction absurde ou incorrecte est tapée ici.

Bonne soirée et à la prochaine.



(un) Remorsefully Yours


You realize or you don’t,

I forgive you always,

Just the same way as,

I loved you always.

You realize or you don’t,

I always wanted to forgive you,

for it’s difficult for you, to walk a distance,

than for me to say 69 words.

You realize or you don’t,

We may not be for each other,

but, made to complement for sure,

So, Honey be unrepentant and unloving.

Weekend Writing Prompt #305 – Unrepentant

Written for # SAMMICOX’s weekend writing prompt- Unrepentant (69 words)

Good afternoon and see you next time.

Jealously Yours


To start April in a lighter mode, at least for all those who somehow had a busy March, (In India, we have financial years from April to March) here are some seemingly lighter but analytically heavier difference among a Poet,  a Prose writer (henceforth writer) and a Satirist

1- Usage of Words-

Poet– Very Smart, very stingy with words, leaves everything to viewers for their versions on the poem. A viewer is as happy to give a version on ‘each word of the poem’ as the poet is to (un)write it; ending up with the case that far too many versions than the poet might have even thought of.


Writer– An extravagant with words, does not give any chance to others to come out with a version of theirs. A viewer who understands the writer’s version is absolutely unhappy and disenchanted and the writer has no idea about those viewers who don’t go through it. In the end, far too lesser consented versions on the topic than the writer might have thought of.


SatiristPoorest of all, puts just the requisite words, still neither the viewers get to understand fully what the article means nor they want to give any version at all. In the end, there might pop up an opposite version to the effect.

2-Theme or Subject

Poet– Again Very Smart, All poignant issues. Poet is happy on making viewers misty in the eyes.

Popular and considered an Erudite.


Writer– Honest and vocal on important issues. Trying to raise all general issues, but finds it hard to get his voice heard generally.

Uncommonly Common.


Satirist– Innocent of all, puts forward ironical articles on all burning issues and in the end gets his fingers burnt.

Odd man (you hardly find a woman satirist) out.

With all the envy with poets out here, all the apathy with a few writers and nothing for satirists (for I do not find one here),

Good evening and see you next time.

Spiritually Yours


Recently, an ex-colleague of mine, a staunch Hindu devotee, went to Mauritius for a fortnight. As he would do it daily in his hometown, taking a dip early in the morning in the holy Ganges and then pray the rising Sun with a palmful of Ganges water, a ritual named “arghya”, how overwhelmed he became with emotions of ocean in front of the Indian Ocean performing the same ritual with the ocean water is my pick of the day.

He explains, “I was searching for the water of Mother Ganges in the sea. There is a very old saying that out of 100 different types of milk, someone had smelled and identified his cow’s milk as different. This can be true because the thing with which we get emotionally, spiritually, and materially connected, we also become familiar with its every part and all the parts; one gets acquainted with its form, colour, taste and smell. Mother Ganga emerges from the Gomukh of Uttarkashi district and merges into the ocean in the Bay of Bengal. Sagar means ocean which must have been made drop by drop, synonymous with vastness due to amalgamation of rivers and thus becomes like infinity. This ocean keeps innumerable rivers just like the gopikas for Lord Krishna’s form; every Gopi is a Krishna and all gopikas make Krishna. Similarly, here every river is an ocean, everyone left it’s form, even gave up its taste and uniqueness. The one in whom ‘He’ is absorbed has become ‘His’, destroyed ‘My’ existence, there is no scope for infidelity either. The Ganges, holiest of all the rivers, which has attained the status of mother and all others however small or big are such kind. Indian scriptures say that in the churning of ocean between the Gods and Demons to get nectar, the urn of nectar spilled and whichever rivers the drops fell into, they became nectar-filled. The Ganga is considered the main amongst them all. Whatever may be the mythological facts and present reality, but Gangaji falls in this sea and its nectar water is in this sea. If it is not complete, then at least, for sure, a tiny & partial part will be here in this ocean.”

I, too, like many others, have all the faith in the Almighty and have a very special and private relationship with HIM, but I do not really want my faith to be very ostentatious or made to be known to others. Still, I adored his composed wisdom, vastness of thoughts, and acceptability of anything more than the religious frame of it. I was taken aback by his staunch devotion to look for the Ganges anywhere and everywhere. And that is exactly it ought to be, unaltered, unchanged, unaffected.

He applied that sea water on his lips to do what is called “Aachaman’, for peace on the mind, for Surya Arghya, for ‘Pitra Tarpan’ and also for their salvation. I would definitely do the same when I happen to approach the sea water next time more so for clarity of my thoughts even if not for what he did it for.

Good evening and see you next time.

Affectionately Yours


A place where you ain’t you, I ain’t me,

A space though small but with happiness,

Where you choose from the heap of desires,

You put the sorrows in the detritus,

Time not needed to heal wounds.


A place, I tell you nothing, you hear everything,

A space with dignity between us-no illusion,

Where customs to follow, but no hindrance,

You and I can laugh whole heartedly,

And tears taste only sweetness.


A place, You and I can embrace all others,

A space, nothing for us but all for all,

Where no discrimination-all affection,

You and I can live forever and never to leave,

Even tiny moments not for ages.


Written for dVerse Poetics: Poetry of Place and Space.

Good evening and see you next time.

Responsibly Yours


Today, its not a poetry, not a prose, not an essay about any ritual or custom and not even a read on any prompt. Sometimes, a spontaneous conversation with an acquainted person or a line or two in someone’s feed on social media platform is no less a poetry or a delightful prose or a better practice than any ritual. Like many others, I also have time constraints for other engagements owing to my professional job and therefore, its very cumbersome to be regular on these social media platforms and in particular, where you are an audience rather than an active participant. I happened to check Facebook the other day so as to see what the other friends have been doing who are not available on other platforms. One feed there from a ‘literature- erudite’ who is very active in local magazines and news dailies drew my attention and it goes like the following-

“It is a common belief that children are not able to serve their parents the way parents bring up their children. Albeit, sometimes it also happens that the children serve their parents more than their own upbringing depending upon individual capability, parents’ will and own desire. The fundamental difference between kids upbringing and that of parents’ care is that the parents also enjoy affection in their children’s upbringing while taking care of old parents in whatever way we do is basically caring or service only.”

He sums up in the end saying “since parents really relish their children’s upbringing, taking care of one’s old parents is much more a pious responsibility than the children’s upbringing”.

Bringing up our children is an important responsibility bestowed upon us but no one can deny that we enjoy it; their innocence, watching them grow up, their sweet lisp, their childish mischiefs, etc. Still, everyone is free, independent and sole decision makers on such individual matters, so am I to write about this. Hence, excuse me if the opinion doesn’t align with that of yours. A satirist commenting on this issue clearly shows how free “the bloggers” are, and to my delight,  I am a proud blogger up to my fingertips.

Good evening and see you next time.

Flowerily Yours


Another proud ritual of ours in the form of the festival of flowers called “Phooldei” was celebrated today in the hilly state of Uttarakhand by the children with much zeal and enthusiasm.  In this festival, which is at the start of seasons change from winter to warmer days, all the children of a village accumulate all kinds of available flowers in their carry-bags and scatter it on the door threshold of all the houses and sing the auspicious lines as below of prosperity and well being-

And the beautiful meaning of that goes like this-

May the threshold of this house be full of flowers and auspiciousness, 

May the threshold of this house protect everyone living inside,

May the threshold of this house and time  be right for everyone, that is, successful for everyone living in, and

May the threshold of this house bring full stock of food grains in this and everyone’s homes in the village.

Its the will and desire of well being of all the members in the village without any discriminations and with all equality that makes us prouder than the pious objective of it.

Good evening and see you next time.

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