Hopelessly Romantic

My endless love yearns to break,
Break all the borders and barriers;
My stagnant world won’t start spinning,
Until You and I become We and Us!

My timeless love yearns to make,
Make you feel immensely precious;
Pardon me if ever so much,
So much love makes you nauseous!

You are the reason why,
I’m Helplessly Poetic;
You are the reason why,
I’m Hopelessly Romantic!

The Thin, The Thick, and The Perfect!

“This guy is so skinny we could use him as chopsticks!”
“This guy is so thin that he could be used as a replacement for a skeleton in the bio labs”
“This guy is so…”
Hahaha. I know these are funny jokes or should I use the politically correct word ‘Body-shaming’?

Personally, I don’t give a dime about being body shamed. Maybe because I’m used to it since the time I was Four years old. And moreover I have made up my mind to not get offended about anything at all in this era where people have assumed it as a birthright. This is also why I hadn’t written anything about this issue so far. But today, I think it’s high time I vented it out and gave it a voice. (I’m just a bit scared if that might reduce my body weight a little)

What started in a concerned tone of, “Don’t you eat anything?” took a turn and became a wacky “He is so… hahaha ahaha”. I felt like an outcast when the neighbourhood kids wouldn’t let me join their games because I was skinny. What in the world? They nicknamed me ‘GaaLi’ which literally translates to ‘Air’.
Yes, I survive on air and light. That’s part of the reason why I’m lightweight. But in my twenty years of existence and sixteen years of hearing people talk about my low BMI (Body Mass Index), I have never realised why people take so much interest in the way I’m structured. Maybe it’s their low BI (Brain Index).

When people try to measure the circumference of my wrist by grasping it with their fingers around and check how many fingers of the other hand they can thrust in the gap, what game are they playing? Wrist coitus?
When they call me a victim of malnutrition and in someway it is hysterically funny, are they suggesting that I note down their phone numbers so that I can book them for a stand up show at my wedding?

As Humans, we are said to have been blessed with empathy and ability to express them through words. But are we deploying them in the best way? When you point at someone skinny or obese and laugh or you ask them hurtful questions, aren’t the other fingers pointed at yourself for being an outright jerk?
I have never been a fan of society and its countless fingers pointing at each other for one or the other pointless issue which instead, could’ve been clasped together to build a strong and harmonious society. But no, we want to be jerks. That’s what we have the Masters’ degree in.

Through this post, I don’t want anyone to sympathise about people having “ABNORMAL” body structures. All I want to ask on behalf of every victim of body shaming is this. Try to understand that nature is not fair with everyone. Some are overweight while some are underweight, some are ‘Tall enough’ while some are short, some are perfectly normal while some are victims of some sort of disabilities. Let your actions not hurt someone else’s feelings. While you should be thankful for the privilege of having a “PERFECT BODY”, you should also pray for a Perfect Mind that is compassionate and apprehensive. Let your silly jokes not make a person feel uncomfortable with his/her own body.

And to my fellow victims, Let not their needle sharp comments prick and deflate your confidence. You don’t have to feel inferior or insecure about yourself. A measuring tape doesn’t define who you are. It is about the size of the fire within yourself that matters. You are as awesome as you are. Live everyday happily. Because when you look back at your life after decades, it should have been nothing but LEGEN-WAIT FOR IT-DARY!

Peace out. ✌




Soon after the news arrived, the whole city of Ayodhya was immersed in joy and there were uncalled celebrations everywhere. Prince Rama had won in the Swayamvara contest- The Royal wedding audition held at Mithila. The contest was to lift Shivadhanush – The Holy bow, which was considered nearly an impossible task for one man. But Rama had not just lifted it, but had broken it in two halves. He was going to get betrothed to Seeta, the daughter of King Janaka. A Royal procession was to go from Ayodhya to Mithila for taking part in the wedding ceremony.

Prince Rama was in the guest house along with Prince Lakshmana, his half brother and Maharshi Vishwamitra, the Sage. A royal attendant knocked on the door and delivered a letter from the Palace. Rama read the letter and had a smile on his gracious face. He told the two of them that he was given the opportunity to meet his fiancée at the regal garden that evening. Saint Vishwamitra nodded his head in consent. Rama asked Lakshmana to come along with him. Lakshmana refused to intrude in a private moment but when Saint Vishwamitra backed Rama by saying that it was all for good, he had to agree inevitably.

Time rolled quickly and the two of them left the guest house and headed towards the garden, following the directions mentioned in the letter. It was an aesthetic estate covered in shades of green, pink, blue, red and what not? They appreciated the beauty of it as they began strolling towards the said location. It was not long before they noticed two women dressed in splendid attires waiting beside a pond at a distance.

Lakshmana told Rama to go talk to them while he would stand there and wait for them to conclude the meeting. Rama shook his head disapprovingly and grabbed Lakshmana by his arm and pulled him along. Rama had seen Seeta at the Swayamvara ceremony. His eyes twinkled as he saw her encaptivating face once again. Seeta was a gorgeous woman. A beauty every girl dreamed to be. Rama was a handsome man. A physique no less than that of a Gandharva, a heavenly being. Seeta blushed as Rama got near. Rama offered her the beautiful rose he had managed to pluck on the way through the garden entrance. She accepted it and looked at him with curious eyes. Both of them were lost in their own world.

But they weren’t the only ones. There was another person who was losing herself at that point. Urmila, the second daughter of King Janaka. Blue eyes, brown hair, fair complexioned and her divine smile could easily steal any man’s heart. Just as her name suggested, she couldn’t anchor her waves of passion for him. No! Not for Rama! But for the equally striking man, Lakshmana! She was numb and light. She could barely feel her physical existence as her soul was levitating in an unprecedented joy. Tall and handsome, well proportioned, wheatish skin tone, a solemn countenance, he was a treat to her eyes. But Lakshmana stood without a hint of acknowledgement for her. None of them were speaking, for silence spoke more than words.

Dusk fell even before they realised. Lakshmana didn’t want to disturb them but he felt that it was his responsibility to make sure that the women returned before it was dark. He picked up a small pebble and flung it into the pond. The sound brought everyone back to reality. Rama and Seeta bade farewell as they looked at each other one last time before their marriage. So did Urmila; she filled her eyes with his image before they left.

The Royal procession from Ayodhya arrived at Mithila in a few days. The Dhols and Shehnais reverberated in everyone’s ears. King Dasharatha of Ayodhya was received with a grand welcome by King Janaka. They were taken to the palace where the two Kings discussed about their children’s wedding. The outcome of the meeting was not just about the time and place of the wedding but a whole new wedding itself.
Urmila had divulged to her father, her love for Lakshmana. Janaka had put forth the proposal before Dasharatha to get Lakshmana married to Urmila and it was fruitful. Lakshmana obeyed his father and cheerfully agreed to marry Urmilla. Her dream had come true.

The happily married couple steered to the capital city of Ayodhya. The people of Ayodhya welcomed the newly wed with celebrations. A strong bond of love was formed between the couples in a short span. Lakshmana couldn’t thank the Gods enough for bestowing him with such a loving and beautiful wife.

Very soon, the coronation of Prince Rama as the King of Ayodhya was announced by Lord Dasharatha. But one of his three wives, Kaikei demanded Dasharath to fulfil the three wishes that he had promised she could ask for, a long time ago when she had saved him in a war. She asked him to send Rama on an exile for fourteen long years and crown her son Bharatha as the King. Tied by his promise to grant the wishes, Dasharatha inevitably asked Rama to go on exile for fourteen years.

Rama being a virtuous man, obeyed his father as a course of ‘Pitruvaakya Paripalana’. He decided to leave alone but Seeta being his life partner demanded that she would go with him as it was her duty to be a part of his good times and miseries.

For Lakshmana’s respect and servility towards his elder brother, he decided to accompany Rama and Seetha and protect them. Rama refused his plea and reminded him that he had a wife whom he had to be with. But Lakshmana was insistent and finally Rama could no longer convince him and he agreed.

Lakshmana returned to his room where Urmila was anxiously waiting for him. She wasn’t yet aware about the decision her husband had taken.
He had a timid look on his face. She recognised it without any difficulty.

“What is the matter dear? Why do you look so tensed?” she inquired with concern.

“I have to tell you about a significant decision that I have taken. It is going to affect our lives in a way that you’d have never imagined” he replied.

“What is it?” She was anxious.

“As you already know, my father has asked brother Rama to go on an exile for fourteen years. I have decided that I go with them and serve them” he asserted.

She was shocked but she recovered in seconds and said, “I do not see it as a predicament to go with them and serve them. I’ll be contented to be an aid to them”

“No, I meant ‘I’, not ‘us’; I don’t want you to take any trouble. You’re staying back here in the capital” he said with a clarifying tone.

She stood as if a thunderbolt had struck her. She couldn’t believe her ears for what they were hearing.
“I cannot stay back! It is my duty to be with you. And what troubles are you talking about? Not being with you would be the greatest trouble of my life! What good a life will I lead when my sole reason to be happy is gone?” she pleaded.

“Darling, please understand the situation. If I take you with me, I won’t be able to give you the love you deserve while all I have on my mind is to serve my brother. And also, I cannot give my fullest in taking care of my brother if I’m distracted with you by my side. You should stay back and take good care of your in-laws until I return. This is a request”

She was heartbroken. Her world came crashing down. But she, unlike any ordinary woman, comprehended that her husband’s decision was far above her desires. She was a strong woman. She decided to revere his verdict and go by it.

She was not crying but tears were running uncontrollably out of her blue eyes, like a cloud melting into rain from the blue skies
“I fully understand the situation and I will conform with your resolution. I will stay here and wait for your homecoming”. She assured him with a trembling voice.
She tried smiling despite the wound still fresh in her heart. She looked into his eyes and said, “Take good care of Rama and Seeta. And do not worry about your parents. I shall take care of them all”

Lakshmana felt sorry but he didn’t wan’t to change his mind at any cost. He looked at her with his moist eyes filled with love and honour.

She embraced him with all her might and kissed him for one last time before he’d be home after fourteen years.

Her sacrifice was unparalleled. She remains the unsung heroine of Ramayana and this is my love story version for the mythical epic. It’s my tribute to the greatest lover who proved that real love is not about fulfilling one’s self desires but finding happiness in the joy and satisfaction of the one you love.

My Best Friend


GIF source: Google

“Mumma, do you hear me? I am hungry, bring me some food” Sana called out to her mom once again.

Sana is my best friend. She’s an adorable girl. She’s very curious and asks me so many questions that I don’t know the answers to.
Her mom takes us on a walk every evening and she’s very fond of it. She likes it when the wind blows through her hair and flips it across her face.
She doesn’t stop asking questions at all. Very eager to learn, I tell you.
If she hears a new sound she’s never heard before, she asks all about it. If there’s an aroma of some delicious food on the streets, she notices it before everyone else and she wants to taste it. Sometimes, we go to the beach and she likes playing in the sand but I think she’s sort of scared of the sound, the waves make.
Talking about sounds, she’s a gifted musician. She sings and plays piano like a pro already. She’s also performed in quite a few concerts and oh boy, do they love her, the audience!
Everyone loves Sana.

Mom was coming upstairs with a bowl of Gulab Jamun in her hand. Sana sensed it by the fragrance of it!

Oh did I forget to mention? It’s Sana’s fourth birthday today. Guests have been invited. They’ll be here by evening. She’ll be so happy to meet her cousins who’ll get her favourite presents. And on top of everything there will be cake! 

“Mumma did you make Gulab Jamun for me? You’re so sweet mumma! Just like the jamun”

Sana’s mom laughed at her little princess’s innocent words.

“Yes my sweetheart, I made them for you. Wish you a very happy birthday!”

“Thank you mumma”

“Eat them quickly. Then I’ll give you a bath and dress you up like an angel” said mom, feeding the Jamuns to Sana.

“Mumma, what is an angel? Sana asked in a naive tone.

“An angel is a beautiful girl like you who can make wishes come true!”

“Mumma do I look like an angel?”

“Yes my dear” she said lovingly.

Sana had a curious expression and was going to ask some more questions. She swallowed the Jamuns and asked, “Then mumma, can I make a wish and will it come true?”

“What’s your wish darling?” Mom asked surprisingly.

“Mumma I want to see you. I want to know what you look like. I want to see what Daddy looks like. I need to see myself and check what angels look like. I wish to see my room, my piano, the jamun, the sea, the mountains, the cars, the moon, the stars and everything that you’ve told me about. Will my wish come true Mumma?”

Mom was stunned. The bowl in her hand came crashing to the ground and spilled. She wasn’t expecting this question from her little angel. Words seemed to have vanished and only teardrops were flowing out like a river out of her eyes.

Sana asks me these sort of questions every now and then about what all of those things look like. Little do I know what they all look like. I’m just an outline of a body in her head. A body of imaginations. What she thinks people and things look like. Whatever she’s gathered by touching and sensing. She talks to me when there’s no one around her. When she feels lonely. She tells me her stories, her jokes. She sings sweet songs to me and calls me her best friend.

Sana had lost her eyesight to a congenital eye disease and was born blind.

I wish one day I could give all the answers to her but, who knows? I might just fade away from her head as well. 



A pleasant sunny morning; a soft breeze rustling the leaves and carrying the scent of summer, had found its way through the castle of Hastinapur.
Along came Karna, a fierce warrior and the best friend of the Kaurava King, Duryodhana.
Expecting his friend to be in his room, Karna knocked on the door of Duryodhana’s room.
He was welcomed in by Bhanumati, the wife of Duryodhana.

“What a surprise! Please come in. Welcome to the palace!”

“Thank you, your Highness! I hope by God’s grace you have been well”

“Yes Karna, everyone in the Kingdom of Hastinapur is sure to be well when we have such a caring King”

Karna smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

“It doesn’t appear like the King is here, is he?”

“No, your friend left early in the morning on a Royal city round.”

She was alone in the castle.

Karna took to leaving but she asked him to stay for a while as she was bored and wanted to play the board game of ‘Pagade’.

“Please feel comfortable to stay. He should be back by the time Sun hits the zenith. We shall play Pagade until then to pass the time”. 

Karna agreed and they sat down at the table. She served him a cup of fresh fruit juice and then they began dicing. Pagade was a royal game. Princes and the princesses grew up playing them. So Bhanumati clearly was good at it. But she was astonished to see Karna playing it exceptionally well. He was brought up by a family of fishermen and he had learnt the game only after he became the best friend of the King. He had grasped the game so well that he went on to defeat Bhanumati.

“No! How is this possible? You can’t be this good!”. Her tone indicated that she was flabbergasted.

“It must’ve been by fluke that I won. Let us play one more time”. He said in a humble voice.

As the dice rolled, the sandclock had somersaulted several times.

After having been beaten for about seven times, she could no longer stand it. It was apparent that his skills were of no match.

“I am bored of this Karna. It is clearly not my day today. Luck must’ve forgotten me. Let’s call it a day now.”

“With all due respect, Why don’t you just admit that I am better than you at this? Come on, finish this game. There is no luck in this world. It is just a conceived illusion that losers choose to blame upon”. Karna’s expression suggested that he was enjoying his wins and could go on.

She laughed at him and stood up. Karna saw what was coming next. He tried to catch her hand even as she overturned the board. Somehow his bracelet entangled itself to her delicate waist chain and the pearls on the chain fell all over the place.

There was a thud at the door as someone had entered the room.
Karna and Bhanumati were appalled.
Duryodhana was in front of them.
There was a moment of tension in the room.

Duryodhana had entered the scene to witness his friend holding his wife’s hand and her waist chain broken on the ground.

What do you think ran in everyone’s mind?

What explanations were they to give about the situation?

Imagine yourself in each of their shoes.

One could hear the distant sound of the river Ganga if one listened to; there was so much silence in the room.

Duryodhana broke the silence by asking Bhanumati, “Do you want me to repair it or get you a new waist chain?”.

His face beamed in happiness to see his best friend after a long time.

He bent down and embraced Karna.

It was the happiest room in the world at that moment.

There is a reason why mythology still prevails in this modern 21st century. Our ancestors have paved down the values of life for us through the mythic stories. Don’t you think it is an obligation for us to learn something from this?

Life is but a game of relationships. One of the most important ones being Friendship. Those who manage to respect each other’s feelings and become capable of seeing things through and beyond the boundaries of mere sight, win at this game.

Through this figment of my imagination on the backdrop of Mahabharata characters, I wish friendships and trust were as pure and pristine as they used to be once upon a time. Let us hope that we will be blessed to have such friendships. More importantly, let us be those friends.

A second before joy


I had lost all my hopes;
Lost the need to be loved too!
My whole world was falling apart,
Just a second before I met you.

I thought nobody could know,
What I was going through;
You didn’t even ask me,
But somehow you already knew!

Just another word of love,
Just a second before that joy!
Just another smile one last time,
Just a second before we die.

I was lost in the darkness,
And I was crying like a child;
I didn’t think my world could light up,
Until a second before you smiled!

Now I can’t imagine how,
It just feels like a dream so wild!
All my sorrows seemed ever lasting,
Just a second before you untied!

Just another hug of love,
Just a second before that joy!
Just another kiss one last time,
Just a second before we die.



There’s never enough time
Now that I think;
We’re getting a bit older
Even as we blink!

Let’s fly the sky high
Before beneath we sink;
Let’s blaze our fires within
Before our young bloods stink!

The things we can’t say,
The things we can’t do,
The things we can’t love,
I’d want to, with You.

There’s never enough love
Like the sea-seeking river;
If it runs out in midway
The rains fill it over!

It’s only one last time
Before our eyes close forever;
And I want to seal mine up
With an image in them, of yours!

Those times that we spent,
And times we couldn’t do;
Those times, now and again,
I’d want to, relive with You.

The things we can’t say,
The things we can’t do,
The things we can’t love,
I’d want to, with You.