Reviews & Musings

“ I thought I am missing you, and then I realized I am not missing you. I am missing the person I became when I was with you; I am missing the feeling of being wanted that I got with you around… most importantly I am missing a part of me which I have left behind with you somewhere…. .” This was my status message on FB few days back. Someone commented – romantic yet painful .  I replied – It’s always a pleasure to miss your loved ones.   So I was asked how it is a pleasure when that person is no longer with you .  To which I replied – The person might not be but the memories with me are priceless. Source: Google Images

Source: Google Images I am beaming right now as I strike off the first thing on my wishlist 2013 : Sit on a merry-go-round.

Today I apologized once again. For no fault of mine. And yet it killed another part in me. I somehow cannot comprehend the relationship between me and forgiveness.  Source: Google Images

I have had a beautiful affair with the rains. The slight nip in the air, the darkening skies, shimmering lightning, cool breeze, swaying trees as if to welcome the rain God – all this giving away to first drops of rain; sheer magic!! Who would not be in love with them? Source: Google Images Every time they come they bring along a flood of memories. Beautiful, heart touching memories of first love, romance in the air, holding hands, feeling the underlying passion, freshly washed leaves adding to the greenery, the misty smell of earth after the first few drops of rain, grey somber atmosphere sometimes making me a poet and sometimes a dancer… while sometimes it makes a thirsty soul waiting for the raindrops to quench my thirst.… all this is synonymous with rains for me. But this time somehow the rains have brought loads of pain and hurt reminding me of broken hearts, shattered dreams, unrequited love and of passion which went cold with the passage of time. Tod...

Source: Google Images I began writing when I was 10. Having written my first poem I was very happy when my teacher had displayed it on the notice board for weeks together. Gradually I entered my teens and love happened. And so was born the poet in me. Love, love and more love that's all that I could write about. It all meta morphed only into poems - lyrical and rhyming. Love brought along heart break and pain which only deepened my poems.  Somewhere in the coming years that poet got buried beneath the hurt, jealousy, anger and the other things that come along with busy-ness in life, leaving me no time to pursue what my heart loved the most. Very soon my first love, with words was forgotten. 

Source: Google Images I was 9 when all this had happened for the first time. What do you understand when you are of that age… you just know your world is full of rainbow colours, sweetness of chocolates fills it, with lovely dolls for company and beautiful dresses to doll you up. Your mother is the magician for you as there is nothing that she cannot fix – broken dolls, injuries, torn notebooks, incomplete homework, pending projects anything was curable by her. I wish life continued to be in this blissful state as broken hearts and shattered dreams was something nobody could mend. 

Sometime back I had reviewed a wonderful book called How about a sin tonight? by Novoneel Chakraborty and had said in my review how this book had made me look at love and relationships from a very different perspective. I had also shared a few beautiful quotes from the book with a promise to do a full post dedicated to the wonderful thoughts from this book which definitely deserve much more than a thought. So here it goes: Source: Google Images

Yesterday when the Delhi gang-rape girl succumbed to her injuries somewhere in Singapore there was something that died in every Indian woman. More than anything else it was the hope, hoping for things to change, hoping to feel safe in her own country and hoping to not be blamed for a crime committed on her. That girl might have died physically yesterday but actually we had killed her long back already. We killed her when we blamed her for all that she went through. Though if I ask who is to be blamed for this, there are a lot of voices which will say the system and law and order. But there are also many voices which said it’s her fault to be out at this time. Or rather should I say it’s her fault she was born a woman in our country. I am shocked at the thoughts of the society where they surprisingly blame a woman for any untoward incident happening with her.  When I was abused as a child – I was blamed for it. When as a teenager some random youth molested me on th...

Introduction ISBN: 978-0-00-745689-3 Publisher: Harper Collins Publishers Price: Rs. 350/-  I have admired Paulo Coelho’s style of writing mainly for the ease with which he deals with such profound things in life. Personally I was going through a very rough patch few weeks back and a random visit to the library made me land up with this book. I somehow believe that books talk to me and that is what makes me read them.

I flip through some pages of life and revisit some old memories - wrapped in beautiful flowers, engulfed in their fragrance...missing some special people and smiling as I feel them ~ Me

Today's Whispering Wednesday Word  is Need. 

Source: Google Images Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons.  ~Author Unknown

Today's Whispering Wednesday Word  is Soul ~ mates . Off late I d on't know i f it is sheer coincidence but I have been hearing a lot of discussions on this topic around Me. Hence curio sity led to Me to my eternal friend Mr. Google who ver y happily offered me the best reply I could have ever wanted. Sharing it with you here: Source: Google Images Apart from all the usual mushy definitions I found on the net , th ese were perhaps the most practical words of wis dom I could lay my hands on .