Everyman's

I needed a life’s nest For a day in a bird’s nest But I found no sorrows for a nook Only a cleavage in a wall was there to look And I twanged my long bow The arrow refused to kill my mocking shadow Right at the heart of my bone marrow Only to come back the next day after tomorrow After a long night... Sign in to see full entry.

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(This was written last year on the 60th. anniversary of India's so-called freedom from British rule.) The celebration is on and right before the day's mid-night sun. And there is so much gung-ho as ever. Right in the nick of the moment and in right earnest. With flying colours and mightbe with much... Sign in to see full entry.

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(It was written last year on the 60th. anniversary of India's freedom from British rule.) I am not 60 over and even not yet 60. So, I have not seen or experienced the rising sun at the stroke of that midnight when the independence of this holy land has crossed the Rubicon to sail across the oceanic... Sign in to see full entry.

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(Pat B got confused with the way I have reported my mother's death. I tell you all with a deep heart that everything that was written here is factually true and This happened just today. I am very sorry for this confusion. This is not an obituary. I am thinking of writing an obituary of my mother's... Sign in to see full entry.

There is no reason. There is no reason to lose hope. Why losing hope unnecessarily? No pains in hoping either. It is only hope that keeps one hope alive. I always console myself whenever I am on the tenterhooks. I console myself so that despondence or diffidence does not push me back to the wall.... Sign in to see full entry.

We have come a long way. Too far from the verdant splendour of life. And as if we are all lost in the wilderness of life - the life that endows us with the bounty of pain and pleasure, the summum bonum of our being and essence. We have exhausted all our energy in quest of more and more extravaganza... Sign in to see full entry.

The old woman Old enough to live by In years to count her days Or in the number of her hairs Graying in hiding With the ticking of clock In grazing moments of eternity A few lapses Of footsteps away From the rushing autobahn She was standing alone With a big burden Of a sackful of dead woods On her... Sign in to see full entry.