Sunday, January 17, 2016


One of those days
The only movement you make is to crawl from one end of the bed to the other
The sun shine dims
The thirst, the hunger all wait to knock until you are ready to receive them
The phone calls have more pauses than words
Videos run in tandem with the stories that flow through novels
Sleep beckons you yet you are wide awake
Tomorrow seems further apart while today is a story of your slumber
A leaf rustles, a bike horns, a cat cries
Golden hues of the day light are arrested in the orange of your drapes
You plot a poem, novella and are waiting for the first word

That. Is when you seek yourself.

Thursday, January 14, 2016


'Hireath' is a word I newly learnt. It means "homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the last places of your past".

I just finished reading " The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran. It is one of the most acclaimed literary giant ever written. The reading was an act of mindfulness for me. Those 3-4 hours that I read this book were reflective, contemplative and unencumbered. I am left with such a pleasant sense of being. A certain peace has washed over me. Is it the prose poetry, my most favourite form of literature that affected me? Or was it the effortless philosophy rendered in the most naturally possible simple way?

This reading took me to places of deep conversations I've had with strangers. To the sweet pains of the failures I've had. To the humbling life lessons I've endured. To the lost love and care of close ones. To the bliss I obtained by sharing laughter with children. To the friends who travelled long paths beside me. To the gentle warmth of my beloved and to his irrational ways too. To the irksome thorn of societal conventions, to the callous religion and the tender humanity.

Hireath is the word that I'm left with. This book took me through moments of intense mindful awareness. I cannot say what really stuck me about the book. It just flowed. It's one of those books you read only to realise you've known this all throughout and that the poet/writer gave ink to your thoughts.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Plight of a bibliophile

Due to the pressures of my academic study,work and wedding preparations I did something unthinkable this time! I had willingly decided to not indulge in reading apart from my academic and work related ones. Although there wasn't a dearth of intellectual stimulation (as part of my sociology, curriculum and pedagogy courses I read famous sociologists, linguists and revolutionaries) I felt a nagging void in my life.

So after 2 long months of refraining from reading for pleasure I picked up Gloria Steinem's title 'As if women matter'. This is one of the essential feminist reads that was recommended to me strongly.

It's a delight to loose myself in this book. Bus stand, coffee breaks, bed, loo - I have taken this reading everywhere. But you would then think that this book makes for an excellent read. Frankly, no. It doesn't. I have read better authors who have a balanced approach to delicate matters, who give both the sides of a narration, who keep strong emotions at bay while convincing readers about their theories.

However, I certainly am enjoying responding to a book and engaging with it by employing all my mental faculties. It is a cheap thrill to Google about the greater matters that a book has to offer. Reflecting on one's own life through the lens of the author is a highly desirable act. Gaining new perspectives, analysing one's current mental makeup and accommodating new knowledge is what makes for an exciting learning opportunity.

I can never run away from being what I am- a bibliophile.