Oh! you better run because all cities are mad: but the madness is gallant, all cities are beautiful; but beauty is grim. usual I was sitting on that circular stand with the only star above in the sky. Next to the MDI faculty building, there was my PG and on the terrace it was me, watching the whole city at a constant stare. It was like “Love At First Sight”. I could see many tall buildings which are not just buildings but are dreams for more than half of the migrants and I was one of them but with only difference that it ain’t just a dream but more than that…

Those were the only part of my days when I used to stop the flow of thoughts in my head and watch the whole city running continuously with no rest. At first, I doubted myself…What if i couldn’t run as fast?…then suddenly an airplane took off from the near-most airport over my head  and with a outsmile i was like ..Why can’t i?

I remember how I used to do up & down from gurgaon to Delhi four days in a week. I faced people around me with different motives and tastes.It wasn’t only the information board “sector 21   00:02” that became the part of my daily routine but also those culture and fashion within which I found myself one of them too. This is how even small metro trips can be so versatile. Overall, I can’t neglect the fact that the blow of wind ensconced me in the essence of reality of that number of street lights with those big billboards, while at the same pace, the beggars out of nearby temple entangled me into the concept of dependency and interlinks, thus taught  me how this city runs…every time that terrace reminds me the idea of making my own unwalked way. Now I wonder how that city under grey sky beloved my heart with light pink and I found that place so incredible….! : )


At the edge of the Earth




I was in a deep dark but suddenly sunrays fell over my face and I realised I haven’t slept this night again. It’s like insomnia. Insomnia that occurs every night. Those rays was warm coming onto my face but my eyes were reluctant to it. They were denying the acceptance of hope. It’s like a tunnel which has no end points. A path with no destination. Life seems too large to be lived for. I could hear the sound of my breath and it sound heavy. I was told to be a morning bird but that day I didn’t want to wake up. I was not lazy, of course, but I was insensible for a life that should be lived for living, not for surviving. I didn’t want to see the world because not a single thing was satisfactory. This human body of mine was no less a collection of dust. Though I was trying to get it right. I was trying to make those dust into stones but I was blank. Blank like a white room where I am tied up and not allowed to say anything, I could see only white light of hopelessness,  nothing else. Pretty mature I was but no more. Like I was living an after death life but that solemnly morning was the reality. I didn’t know who was with me, who was not. I didn’t know where I was and what I was doing. I didn’t know what should I do. Not a single breathe was satisfying, neither life nor death. Peace was just a virtual thing. I was afraid to see my feet that were denying to walk because they felt no path to walk on. I felt lack of strength into my brain. My will got collapsed. I didn’t see any point where I should stop thinking of getting invisible. Single movement was as difficult as if I am pulling 100 bricks together and it was  more than physical exhaustion. My interaction with nature was reducing day by day and the corner of my room was my favourite place. But this is not depression! Depression is when you lost all contacts over yourself and there is nothing existing you feel. I know those rays was intense, my eyes were sensitive but my brain denied to work over it. I was lying over the bed like a gravity less surface. Grave was in the air and I was simply taking that air in.

Crying is not depression but not crying is exactly seems like standing at the edge of the earth and this is what depression do!


स्वतंत्र भारत की ओर….


Flags of Countries Animated Three Colors as Flags of India Symbol ...

आज़ादी से मिली जीत, क्यों न फिर से मनाए
वो लहू जो बह गए रो कर क्यों गवाये?
आखिर हम ही तो है हिंदुस्तान के परिंदे
क्यों न बीती हुई बहादुरी को फिर से आज़माये!
चल एक कदम और दो कदम की ओर बढ़ाये,
इस स्वतंत्रता दिवस पर स्वतंत्र विचार रखने की कसम खाये।

७१वी स्वतंत्रता दिवस की हार्दिक शुभ कामनाएं।

I am an Indian women with suhaag

One Summer Vacation, my dad offered me to join him in his aunt’s home. My so-called Grand’s home. But as expected I was reluctant to it. I was behaving like a usual 21st century irritated teen, who was more willing to hangout with friends than to go to their grand parent’s place and listen to those same unseen stories. Genuinely, he was no less irritated with me. After a conversational fight, we agreed to a deal of four chocolates and one long drive on weekend. I went up, dressed pretty and came back with the whole assurance of our deal. My dad went out to get our car ready. I stepped out-of-door, a thought bubbled out of my mind “should I join or stay back?” but then I have to force myself because deal has been already done. we both got into the car and tied our seat-belt. we started with a crowd busted road with horns buzzing incoherent to traffic light and came into a solemnly narrow unstructured lane. I was continuously speaking and my dad could hear my words like w-w-h-a-t i-f-f-a-a i-i-e h-a-ed decid-e-d to s-s-t-a-y a-e-t hoo-m-e? not because I was stammering but because that lane was more made of  soil and less made of black concrete. My dad replied in his soft low tone, she is on regular dialysis, Be polite and humble with her she means me a lot” my curiosity got cold and I talked less after that. We reached her home. Her husband, my dad’s uncle and my grandpa (kind of) opened the door. He welcomed us with as much warmth as he could provide. I couldn’t see his enthusiasm but i could see his hope after coming us. I am not telling this because I was already known with truth of dialysis, I am telling this because anyone could see it. He was not happy but was grateful. He was up to his hospitality. They started talking to each other… asking how we are doing in our life…and so on. He served us biscuits and soft drinks…all I was doing is to keep quite and nod if he asks anything.

With the heights of curiosity I was continuously staring at an old lady (his wife) with Vigo plugged in her wrist, having painful body and shivering voice. She was old as antique. But fortunately she survived till yet. It was hard for her to eat and drink. She was lying on the bed with pillows around so to create a support to her body frame. In everyone’s eyes she was weak. She was incapable. But you know! she wasn’t.

She was beautiful. Her shrinked skin was golden brown like a pure Indian heritage. That innocent eyes that was ready to accept the reality of life. Her shivering lips was still in favour of her family’s welfare. She was at no urge of fabricated life. But the most dazzled surprise was the content that she was carrying all over her body. Sacred vermilion in between those white shaded hairs was as same as it was on the day she got married and honoured as the goddess of the home. I have noticed her weak hands adjusting that red bindi to be on place time to time in the name of wifehood. Although she was unable to get dressed perfectly in her style but she didn’t forget to wear that one Bangle for good fortune and prosperity of her husband. She was trying her best to be the pillar of her family but consequences  was against her. I was astonish to see how delicate it was. She reflected firm and faith, like a divine, a proper statue of the fact that believe is believe,  it is never right or wrong. She was no less worth as inspiration. She was like on the runway showing best roots of Indian believe.PicsArt_1498400823827.jpg A perfect example of commitment, faith and believe. She had a golden chain in her neck signifying proof of belongness to the man of her life. It was hard to accept that even in that critical situation where one thinks of her comfort and survival, she managed her contents through faith with an endless meaning.

I was gazing into her eyes trying to communicate that I can feel her. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she is. Everyone deserves to know the reality of his/her worth of existence. I wanted to tell her every time I saw her lying on the bed trying to convince her body that she will survive. But I was speechless. I was speechless into my own way. 

At last, it was time to leave. My dad reminded me to greet them. And all I said “bless me, I am grateful to see you”. She tried to smile and touched my head by her hand..

I met an Indian women with suhaag and I was speechless.



Tell me something people are afraid to do? Tell me why love is so rude? Why people are crying alone at night and why they are liking more breakup pages than health sites? Why singles troll to be the happiest? Why mingles get annoyed among racists? Why buying a house don’t need caste system but why two hearts can’t make a home even ? Why teens are restricted to roam along with different genders? Why they are stared as if they have done something rebellious? Why crime don’t take a thought over it? Why love become a crime in-between public? Why girls are not allowed to choose their prince then why dad wish his daughter to be the Cinderella at her ring? Why boys are teased ‘what if they don’t earn’ and then why not feminism takes turn? Is it like buying a smart phone knowing it’s price as same as preparing yourself for an arranged marriage night? Where did the term ‘marital rape’ came into existence when my grands told me, ‘love is persistence’? Why these sacred quotes torn only into tattoo when my morals told me love is not torso? Degree in humanity is more in civil choice, but civil service without humanity and humanity without love is more an evil choice. From when sex defines character rather character defines sex? From when love is teen passion rather passionate teen? Once my friend told me, my love has no future And I asked why you feel not nurtured? She replied with her racing heart, because love is like air and I can’t cost plants! That day I realised everyone is so good in business, they deal dowry as if it is religious! Why a son is not comfortable to share his feelings? What is the logic behind this kind of lack of link? Is it really a generation gap or something which can’t be trapped? Why society decides parent’s dignity? Why happiness and love has no power in creating history? Why hundreds of death are suicidal case? Why a 19-year-old facing heart breaks? Where in holy books these limitations rely? From when these conditions are applied? Why some are out of standards when we all have same way of parturition? From when love could be defined? From then these pages are flooded aligned! After all, love is a tough task because yes I am a social animal dancing at opinion’s bar! That’s how millions of hearts failed in their narration because love in society is no less than billions terms and conditions!



While sitting next to the window, my hand was warm and easily holding the cup of coffee. My eyes were busy in finding beauty in between the rage outside the window. I can’t deny that I was trying to escape the reality. I took a sip, blinked my eyes and within second I felt the flow of adrenaline, I felt the warmth I was searching in my life. It was hard to believe that I was lucky having that sip (a perspiring touch at the surface of my tongue, that sugary taste & “slurp slurp slurp” ) but yes I was. There is a saying coffee makes things easier. One sip, one sight. ( First sight..second sight….mum calling “come fast we are about to leave”) ..”coming” I shouted. I fasten myself, fasten the sound slurp-slurp-slurp but again my eyes got stuck outside the window. My spec was divine to me at that time. I am grateful to that circular rim monocle that was making a way to peep at something which people usually avoid.

“Hurry up! You are always late” mum buzzed. “Oh I am always.. do it fast! pack your bag” cheering to myself. I forcefully distracted my eyes out of the window and started packing. I putted that cup on the table, stretched my leg towards Almirah and opened it. I was continuously murmuring to myself “fast fast fast”..anyone around me could feel that ventilation of getting late and flow of oxygen and carbon in-out of my nose…I took out my clothes and even at once I got confuse “should I take black one or lee Cooper’s” but then “do it fast dear, take anyone of it!”. I thrown all the clothes into my suitcase like a pile of scrap, but it was in need at that time. With the same pace I picked up my suitcase and ran off to the stairs, leaving that coffee smelling cup having my finger print at the table.

I came down, took a deep breath (as if I got first in a race) and adjusted my glasses. Meanwhile , my dad came and said we have to wait for half an hour because first he have to repair the tracker of the car, it’s somehow not working. And at that time my face expression was worth to see for anyone who wanted to LOL. As expected, I got annoyed. But I praised the idea of getting back near the window, as it didn’t fade away from my sub conscious mind.

I went up to the stairs where it all started. But this time it didn’t work. I sat down, trying to fix my pupil around those little things I was watching outside the window but I was unable to feel that same aroma of realization. 35 minutes ago, I was clearly able to see a boy with golden brown messy hairs with torn shirt of only one sleeve and a red pant stained with soil (seems like if it was borrowed from any school going child). His face was rough-hewn but all in between his dirty face one could see his pity glowing eyes. He was professionally a balloon seller, (not because he was surely but because I am narrating it to myself). He was less selling and more begging to get sold. He was roaming around people and knocking windows of all cars passing by the same street. In contrast I could also see people with ugly faces and brighter clothes running and moving towards their work place or destination as if the reason behind the displacement of the earth are these people, putting their whole strength to maintain the pace of the earth by their activities. From window they looked small but crowd. Near turning, there was a traffic police. Wearing his dress, he was extraordinary in his duty. A women passing through the footpath, maintaining her scarf, so that she could not get wind inside her ears. Pollution was overlapping population. Noise of any screaming infant was much soothing than the noise of vehicles. Street was much colder than the coldness of the weather. There was the dominance of human over that land because my window could weight it correctly. One could feel this rush and rage in compare to my still coffee, which was smooth and warm to the heart.

Absence of coffee in the cup let me understand how much I use to be in groove. Yes I was out of that rush. I was happy holding that cup and most importantly I was still with reference to the outer world. My heart was calm. Not everyone get this, not every time even.

(~sigh~) Breathing. Relaxing. Opening fist to the air. Breathing again, I appreciated the warmth of my life I am getting from these little things. Life is all about how you feel at your stillness, and I feel hopeful.

And then I putted that cup at its right place.

“Everybody come now, we are going to’s gonna be a perfect vacation!” … Dad’s calling.



The day we will meet

will be the day death embrace us.

The last of the last breathe

will make the heaven around,

Encroaching each other’s soul

like made for enlightenment.

They said set for ‘asset’

for the whole continent.

The coinage is cold to escape

our love in-between the cage,

Encouraging each other’s sacrifice

like made as assonance.

The minute was worthless

but seconds will be divine.

The often scars will turn

into the mark of loyalty,

encrypting each other’s infinity

like made for being monad.


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In this running world people are getting more towards ‘man-made comfort zones’ while leaving behind the techniques to calm down the internal disturbance of themselves. A fourteen year old boy telling his fellow ‘I am stressed’. Many people criticize that how a fourteen year child can be stressed? Stressed because he is not getting his favorite video game or Mathematics is too tough to solve? We can see many trolls related to it on social media. But first of all, what is stress? Dr. Hans Selye, one of the leading authorities on the concept of stress described stress as ‘the rate of all wear & tear caused by life”. Stress is not an immediate result to any situation but it is a continuous ethereal build-up which is a by-product of a toxic habit called ‘over thinking’. Thinking about something too much or for too long. Not only over thinking but obsessing, brooding or wallowing are also the factors which contributes stress.

The term ‘Teen Stress’ is frequently used now-a-days. It is not only teens that suffer from stress but everyone experience different level of stress throughout their lives. For a teen, there can be many reasons behind it like worries over school/colleges & homework, family demands, any life tragedies, relationship changes, lack of social support or career concerns etc. Many times one is more stressed because of lack of participation in decision-making. But the main question is why this rate is increasing while these reasons were also exist in earlier time?

Else than those written in articles and websites there are more sensitive factors one should know if he/she has accompanying a stress suffering teen. If we look over it as a third person, we will get to know that stress creates its space within someone’s mind when the sufferer feels himself unable to talk about the stressor or issue. Not talking about stressor and about what one actually feels is a host to stress.

There is one more observation upon the difference between the parenting style of ‘then’ & ‘now’. Somewhere physical maintenance is overlapping mental maintenance in now parenting style, where the technique of coping with self-created stress is absent. Children learn more to be rich than to be happy and satisfied in a true manner. Most of the teen when asked, what do you want in your life? They use to reply in an indubitable manner I want money, pride, status or money oriented aims (not all of them but most of them).

So the one who is not able to say what’s going on his grey matter just because ‘what will society image?’ and the one who is forcing himself to be rich and dignified than to be happy, not because his/her parents want it but because he never heard “do what makes you feel alive”, are both somehow interlinked and in between this link, there need to create a comfort zone so that people can speak about their mental health. Anyone who is suffering from mental illness or stress needs support by their surroundings. We have to understand that without genuine support one cannot get out of stress from its root, no matter to which age he/she belongs to. It’s better when one speaks that ‘I am worried’ than one who keeps everything inside and let the stressor do its work because in future it leads to more severe mental illness. So next time when a fourteen year child say ‘I am stressed’ don’t argue with that or comment sarcasm but ask what is the problem? Because no problem is that big or that small. Telling your grief or problem is not a weakness it’s a cure to mental health. So the one who is suffering from so-called ‘T.S things’, feel yourself lucky because you are going to be stronger if you fight it in a right way.

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