It’s a strange feeling to have at this point of time in my life when I haven’t even have thought of retiring from the society per se. Though I’m a … Continue reading Love After Love – Derek Walcott

It’s a strange feeling to have at this point of time in my life when I haven’t even have thought of retiring from the society per se. Though I’m a … Continue reading Love After Love – Derek Walcott
What makes one ask how am I looking? Am
I good enough? Aren’t I the smart one? What is this validation we all seek, and seek we do… how much of this longing for recognition drives us? These and many more questions plague my mind thus.
Often these days, I stop in front of mirror and look at my reflection a rapt concentration, it’s her or me smiling back at myself There are moments when I … Continue reading Seeing My Mother
Every piece of writing by all those profound writers influence me.
For a while I slip into a stupor, drunk in their words, the meaning of life in between their sentences- and it’s a wonderful feeling to live the lives they create and weave in between the printed words one after the another.
The social and cultural milieu a writer belongs to reflects in the fabric of their prose. It’s beautiful, it’s like minuscule architectural beauties embedded in a huge structure.
I’m taking a break from all the web readings for a while and go back to the roots where I begin my life, ghosh, Woolf, Marquez, Conrad, Bronte, Eliot… those are the concrete pillars I hold onto whenever I feel myself losing to the insanity of the world around me.
©connecting_nicky
It’s difficult to understand everything, it’s like reading in shadows, fleeting light from the creeks of windows and doors. Life has become interminably incomprehensible, dried and cracked. There are spaces enough to get in and probe yet so hardened that I perish the thought of what’s beyond those cracks.
I have no patience nor energy left to fight and grapple with people, and the world around me. I’m just letting it be- everything. I want to be left alone in peace and not be bothered about.
May be it’s me who is a difficult person or may be not. Whatever may be the case. I still would prefer to be left at it and not be badgered about that. Sometimes, leaving one in peace is enough to settle down the nerves.
Shayari Dil Se
Re-Telling Stories
Woh kare baat toh har lafz se khushboo aaye, Aisi boli wohi bole jise Urdu aaye. -Poet Ahmed Wasi-
Law and the Political
reviews and reflection
A World of Books
Illegible manifestation of postmodern debris
My stray musings--- This blog is written with my family and immediate circle of friends as intended readership, so everyone may not connect with some of the events or places described; not that I have any objections to others reading it. In fact, they are most welcome--
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
George Orwell's domestic and political diary entries, posted 70 years to the day after they were written
Musings and chronicles on life, work, film, culture, politics, etc.
Something always escapes!
On Books, Reading and other Delightful Things
An Online Archive of Modern Indian Poetry
Life has always been interesting...
The best of the literary web
Life has always been interesting...
Life has always been interesting...