What a beautiful face that was I saw as I stood at the bus stop waiting for my bus. She stood a few metres away from me and was talking all the while into her tiny phone she held into her tiny palm.
But one thing disturbed me, she was weeping bitterly and silently maybe the person on the other side would never know, lest her voice gave her away.
The tears stained her pink cheeks and she was oblivious to the people around her who cared to look at her.
Maybe she was hurt, maybe she was a sensitive girl, I will never know.
I too have been in similar situations where even a tiny harsh word could throw me off for a few minutes, a few tears and a bout of sulking and there I was myself.
I too have cried in the privacy of my home a fight with loved ones, harsh colleagues, uncaring people.
This pretty girl, was conveying soft words to the person... my mind went off to various things that could have happened
 I too have silently cried behind my sunglasses, bright sunshine hot tears,
Gushing rains down my umbrella, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, its is a feeling one cannot control.
Helpless, standing there saw her walk into the bus, still stuck on her phone, all I could say was"God Bless you child, "
I will never know WHY ?

As the year closed on us yesterday, within minutes the year 2012, went off in smoke, What a welcome 2013 was given, With our heads bowed the people gathered prayed for peace, good leadership and wisdom to prevail, particularly the youth who are our future citizens, and in a way become the ones to take the country forward.

Deeply bent in prayer my heart and my whole being was with the girls parents(The delhi horrendous rape victim now known as victim X) only my physical being was at prayer.

My heart went out to her parents who I can relate to as I am also a mother of a teenager, and everytime she steps out"Take care " "Watch your step" 

Can one human do this to another ? actually speaking were they humans ?

What went wrong with their parenting? surely there must have been and thats for sure there will always be little signs along the way that snowballed into such a massive, horrendous surreal ..am at a loss for words.

We as parents tend to ignore little signals that we have to correct ... Maybe we have to learn from the mistakes of these demons and most importantly equip our own sons and daughters that it is time to take signs and stand up for truth, may anger a few, maybe you will stand up alone, BUT, nothing should change your attitude to speaking up.

With a prayer on my lips as We welcomed 2013, we also prayed for a better India and a better tomorrow for each and everyone of us...

"Forgive and forget " heard that a zillion times, but can we really ?. Try as we may, pray as we must, but can we ?
My own personal experiences with the above quote is a tough one, I have tried to forgive and have always forgiven even the most hurtful one that has come my way, but forget is still something that i would love to talk about now.
How can one forget ? enlighten me on that
.Over time it has surely been forgotten, but only to realise it does hurt but no so often, and not so painfully.
Time heals all wounds  is the best way to look at a hurt and dont rush to forget, if it makes you feel good, to cry over it so be it, if it makes you feel good to sulk over so be it and if it feels good to write about it(Yours truly !) so be it, BUT just a Red alert flag, dont get obsessed about it, move on in life, nothing can take away that happiness and surely no  one can.
Many a time I have taken my time to forget and having done so, have realised that it is off my chest for good, but I have not put on a mask neither have I tried to rush into it, In my time, is the magic mantra, But let it go,,dont stick to it once again no one and nothing is worth your happiness.
Like a very famous hymn goes"There is a time for sowing,  and reaping, time for losing,  time for gain, time for sorrow,  time for pain...."

As I am writing this article, its pouring outside, rain oh! the beautiful rain.
The thunder,  the lightning and me all tucked up in my sheets I can hear the rain hitting on the roof in the next building.
Rain the giver of life, the reason for so many of our bollywood romantic songs,just the clap of thunder and there she goes dancing in the rain, soaked to the skin.
Without the seasonal  rains in India and in mumbai, is like Happy without birthday,
The rains particularly in the countryside has a magical effect on its surroundings, few days ago patches of dry arid land now turn into huge rivers, and tiny waterfalls dot the hills ... a sight to behold, the green fields and the paddy saplings joyously swaying in the breeze.Oh the wonderful rain.
The birds have their own way of enjoying themselves the pigeons sit on the rooftops with their wings spread as if to welcome the showers....Oh the wonderful rain.
The smell of the wet mud, and the beautiful sky just waiting to descend ..Oh the wonderful rain.


Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.

She stood all alone on the crowded platform, and despite the milling crowds around her she seemed lonely, she was sobbing into her kerchief, silently her whole body quivering with every sob.
My mind raced to the time, when I too felt that way, the only difference was I was walking in the rain, the hot tears rushing and the cool cool rain drops on my cheek is a memory that is diffcult to erase.
I was so frustrated over an issue that did not seem to see any light, and the worst part was I had to handle it with kid gloves, thats not me ! I am the tell it as it is, call a spade a spade type, so this was the fake me, and that got to me the only way out, sob silently and it felt much better after that hot and cold experience. Of course the issue got sorted out, and then it was happy days for me.
Back to the girl on the platform, the train came in and she disappeared into it, and I will never,  never know what made her cry, maybe the train was taking her far from her misery or maybe taking her to it. Bless her where ever she maybe. 

Have you ever realised how much a clothesline can speak to you? During my college/working(Office days) my journey from home to the city would take me around an hour to forty five minutes, and it was during this journey that I would notice this particular house and every morning the clotheslines would be full up with clothes just freshly washed and flapping merrily in the wind. It was a lovely terraced house.
 During my college days the same house and its clotheslines would be full of jeans and jeans and loads of towels and football t-shirts and everything that a teenager would love to wear, I realised that this particular house was full of youngsters and the washload was a huge one. Over the years, the clothes lines changed its shades from teenagers outfits to working adults clothes, proper long sleeved shirts it had all the trappings of working people living within. For sometime it was just a ladys' saree and a mans pygama kurta, which told me that the youngsters had flown the nest.
 All this time automatically i was drawn to the right side of the bus window and rapt in attention to watch "The Clothesline speak to me", I gave up my working life and decided to be a stay home mom, i did remember the clothesline very often but the kids and housework kept me very busy besides it ws really out of the way to take a trip down that side.
 One day on my way to market out of sheer curiosity I decide to take time out to find out more and what a surprise there was a huge load of babies clothes drying bibs, nappys, dresses and little towels. What a journey that was ? A couple of years later noticed that this house was locked up and empty. My mind went thru so many moments of flashbacks the happiness the house was a mute witness to. Have you ever tried this ? every little stone and tree tells a story, We have to just listen and watch.


            “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss

Its awfully hard to answer the question "Whats wrong?", when nothings right.Have you been in that space ? For me its a yes, and out of sheer force of habit the answer just goes"Nothing, I'm fine". Time and again I have told myself to try and answer right, so what if you think the other is not ready for the answer, so be it. Many a time we try and play the role of a martyr, in the hope of attaining sainthood. Many a time I have let a lot of hurt just there trying to go inside the mind of the other person"Oh come, maybe a little stressed out, things will fall in place soon" trying to console myself little releasing that I will explode one day when the pressure has built up..something akin to pressure cooker. Its up to us to allow the other person to hurt us

"No one can hurt you without your permission"Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Sometimes our own state of mind can decide how badly we can be hurt, we maybe emotionally vulnerable our personalities maybe be the sensitive type or we maybe placed on the other side of the spectrum. Which ever way we are lets Forget the people who hurt us and spend time with people who make us happy.