Just thoughts

I Whither art thou, dear Francolin You were here only a moment ago Pecking blissfully at the ground, walking Calmly…  Gone in a flash! A brown streak of lightning- Cutting through the dry grass of summer Disappeared into the bushes at the fringes Was that you, O lovely francolin?!  But I know you will come back, my dear To peck coolly at the soil I shall wait for you, I swear Don't worry, darling. I won't harm you. But I can't say the same For some of my other Biped brethren… II I have waited for weeks Day morphs into night, night Into day; the serene immutable cycle goes on. The ground is now Cold concrete. The bushes are now Black fences. I wait for days Longing for you, my love But will you ever come back?

When the word 'lake' is uttered, it conjures up pictures of picturesque expanses of blue water, skies with cotton-candy clouds, the bright but welcoming sunshine, reeds in the fringes with butterflies and birds, and probably the occasional fisherman cottage along the way around the lake. Well, it's common knowledge now that this image is far from the reality- 'Smart City' projects in Coimbatore have replaced the grass-laden fringes with concrete pathways, and the occasional fishing cottage replaced with chaat offering tea shops and ice cream stops in some lakes, and many more lakes to come.  My recent visit to Kurichi Kulam , one of the numerous lakes of Coimbatore, was a whole new experience. Not like I’ve never visited lakes before for birdwatching, but this one just hit home in a very unique way. Away from the smart city construction work that was going on on the other side of the lake from where I entered, the peace was just indescribable. I thought it would be...

"Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me... Later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl." Anne Frank couldn't have been more wrong.      This is the first time I've read anything in a diary format, and this was a good start! In the beginning, Anne's thoughts and sometimes self-centred ideas (as she admits later on in the diary) are adorable, and quite relatable to my own thoughts a few years ago when I was thirteen. Slowly as each tragedy befalls the Franks, the plot thickens. We all live through Anne's initial fright and panic as they go into hiding.       Then come the funny incidents and anecdotes of Anne and her thoughts on them, on how weird adults might seem sometimes, and the periodic quarrels that break out between the inmates of the 'Secret Annexe'. Then, gradually, Anne steps into adulthood and focuses more on her intrinsic thoughts and feelings. Her writ...

  I It is bitter cold My cold is bitter Yet I stand on the open  Terrace, watching the stars. So far away from us; mere pinpricks  on the grand canvas of space and time Yet so profound, so numerous… They make me forget my miserable, puny, mortal problems. II The smoke from cars rise Buildings, factories, ugly Human creations vomit smoke into the cool dark air Now there are no stars They have lived their  twilight existence And now they are gone Probably forever, from the sky. I want to see the hordes of stars but they have died In my city’s sky- killed by the smoke. P.S. At the suggestion of a neighbor, I started reading the beautiful works of Mary Oliver. This is my first venture into free verse inspired by Ms. Oliver, which I haven’t stepped in before, because I thought it was against the spirit of poetry. But after reading her works, I understood that free verse is not a disgrace to poetry, but rather a wonderful addition to it. When ...

  I have no idea why I decided to read this book, but I think something about the name 'Little Women' struck me as unique in a way. And now I am thankful to my instincts. Such wholesomeness and beauty have never been rendered by any book I have read or any movie I have watched. The foibles and growth of fashionable Meg, reckless Jo, fastidious Amy and the unforgettable, dear Beth draw one closer to the lives of a poor, yet happy family progressing through the highs and lows of life, indeed, like little pilgrims with their little burdens. Each scene flowed into the next, the story a winding river- on its way multiple rapids and waterfalls, but always caressed by the gentle banks of an ever-loving family and an awesome neighbour. After I finished reading, I thought about which scene I liked the best, but all of them- Laurie and Amy in the boat, Meg's "'fess" to Marmee, Laurie proposing to Jo, and Beth and Jo on the beach, the former relating her deepest emotions...

  I knew that this was a big thing in the book world. Many have suggested it and I have heard it being talked about, so I decided to give it a try.  It is beautiful. This is pure nonfiction. There are a few anecdotes by the researchers on their experiences when they were conducting their research in Ogimi, the Village of Longevity. Other than that, this is a research paper as much as it is a book. But I loved it. The advice is genuinely simple, and the 'secret' of the Japanese commitment to whatever they do is laid bare perfectly, in a lucid way. I was surprised to find out that prioritizing the rituals and the process more than the end result is one of the key things the Japanese do in any field, from sushi-making to engineering. The concept of 'ikigai'- something you are born to do, so to speak, is explained gracefully by the authors, and we can observe in all the interviews and words by the centenarians given in the book that their ikigais have played a very importan...

The big ground stretched far and wide Serving, though, no live man’s needs Containing within it a big horde of Bodies, souls and dreams. The solemn concrete beds scattered All over the big place Bore the names of these vailant peoples Who had endured life’s final phase. Yet no one took notice of these warriors; everybody minded their work Silently; they had no time to spare For whatever ‘neath here lurks. That’s just how it’s meant to be, I guess For, what then is the difference Between the living and the dead? Even so, I couldn’t help but sigh At this desolate place filled with the brave; Kind, strong, heroic people of the past Rest at their final homes- their graves.