Be you!

Be your own kinda happy soul.

We always talk about women and how they need to be strong and independent. Yes! A woman should be doing all that she wishes to. She has every right to travel alone, opt for a night shift, or be a housewife, but it’s her choice. It’s her choice, whether to have kids or not, whether to wear makeup or not, whether to drive or to sit beside her husband while he drives. It’s she who must decide whether to be an entrepreneur or work a 9-to-5 job. She could be strong or weak, bold or shy, analytical or artsy. We’re all well-aware that a woman is not just born to be an ideal homemaker. But today, instead of fighting for the rights of women by taking examples of the strong and gutsy ones, let’s talk about the men.

The men, who’re meant to be strong. They’re told to be the pillars of the house. They’re expected to bring home a good amount of money every month. They’re insensitively stopped from crying by saying that it’s a girl thing. They’re expected to unconditionally cope with random moods that woman choose to throw on them. Society expects a man, even those who struggle through the day, to feed his family. Of course! He’s meant to do that. Maybe he was born to be the struggler. But, why? And, if these things are so obvious, I genuinely think there’s no point of celebrating women’s day.

It’s never about being a woman or a man. It’s about being you. We all know about the rights of women. We all know that there’s no limit to a woman’s capabilities. But, my question is – what about the men, who’re equally willing and encouraging women to do wonders in their lives? While breaking the bars for women, aren’t we also building an invisible one for men? Let the men be themselves. They know what they need to do. What is wrong in it if a man chooses to stay home and cook for his wife? A man can always be a better cook, a better writer, a better businessman, and a better homemaker. A man is capable of raising his children and making his wife’s bed when she’s late from work. It’s ok for him to cry at times because, after all, he’s only human. It’s ok for him to just be at home and do nothing. All you got to do is simply let him be, because what is wrong if a man has mood swings.

It’s not wrong to give women the wings to fly, but it is wrong to load men with responsibilities and duties that stop them from flying, despite having wings.

So, let’s together celebrate our existence with colors of equality, colors that don’t break stereotypes and colors that let us simply be. Let’s celebrate our self! Let’s be us! Let’s be our own kinda happy soul!


A home for old age.

I looked around for a little bit of home and there was nothing that would look even similar to it. There were some faces that did not smile and some that just stared clueless about where life had got them. You know sometimes it’s not about the life you lived, but about the place where life lead you to. The beautiful saree doesn’t really matter when you don’t have your spouse staring at you with a smile. The money you earned doesn’t fill the void in your heart when you no longer have your parents to pat your back for your little victories. And, even the most expensive and delicious delicacies will fail to satiate your hunger when you don’t have your mother, serving you all the love she has in her heart. I walked and walked to see my wife weaving a sweater in the swing that was placed in the balcony. I sat beside her. I held her hand and tried to break the silence with a question. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you. You got me worried.”, I said. She looked at me blankly. And, believe me, the numbness on her face broke my heart into several pieces. I could go days without talking to her, but I couldn’t live with that strangeness she had in her eyes for me. But she’d made me a strong man, and I had to make this work.

She pulled her hand from mine and moved a little away from me. This was the first time that she didn’t hold my hand while sitting on a swing. She said, “Could you please check if the sweater is knit properly? I hope it fits my son well.” I took the sweater from her and checked it to find it perfectly fine. It was later that I remembered my son. Oh! I could call him and tell him to take us back home. He would give his mother the best treatment and figure out what was wrong with her. I immediately reached to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and started dialing the number. “Wait! What is my son’s number?”, I thought. I removed a small telephone diary from my pocket and started looking for the number. “What is my son’s name? Sidd…? Ugh!”

And just when I was trying to remember the name and number, a hand came and held mine. The hand felt soft and loving. It wasn’t hers. Oh! It was a pretty and charming girl, wearing a white dress with a blue dupatta. She took me to the dining hall and told me to have lunch. “But I was calling my son! Why did you stop me from doing it? Who are you? And, where is my wife? And Why are we here?”, annoyed of all the newness around, I screamed at her. I was scared, but I couldn’t be weak. I was worried, but I had to act like a strong gentleman. The girl replied, “Since you’re here with us, it’s our duty to help you with the places here. It’s lunch time right now and missing a meal wouldn’t be good for your health, sir.” “Your wife is being looked after and she’ll get the best treatment available.” Her polite way of hospitality wowed me. She fed me some food and walked with me to meet my wife.

It was beautiful. The weather was serene, the people were friendly, and then there was my lady beside me. But, this wasn’t home. It was just like a home. “When is my son going to come? When are we leaving from here?”, I asked the girl. She smiled and said, “He’ll be here in an hour, sir.” I smiled back at how she chose not to answer my second question. “Could you leave us alone for a while, miss? I wish to get a little friendly with my wife”, I told her, and she left with a sweet grin from ear-to-ear.

“Do we know each other? It feels like we’ve spent a lifetime together, but there are no memories. You smell like happiness. You feel like home. Your presence is weird, but your absence pricks. Who are you?”, she spoke with utter unawareness of all the years we spent together. I said, “Let me sit close to you, maybe then you’ll remember who I am. Let me be with you for a while, maybe then you’ll start loving the weirdness. Let me hold your hand while you enjoy the swing, maybe then you’ll not want to move away from me.” She smiled, and I felt like I had won the battle. We sat there all afternoon holding each other’s hands without uttering a single word.

The blue dupatta girl walked towards us with a man, flaunting a dapper look. His face looked familiar and his smile reminded me of my young days. His nose was as shiny as his mom’s and his eyes – they had a million memories of us. He sat with us and said, “How are you, pa? How is your leg, ma?” I waited for her to respond. She looked away as she genuinely didn’t remember who he was. And, I looked away, too, as I did not wish to remember who he was. He said he had come to take us home. He said he’d missed us in the past 6 months and that the house feels heartless without us. He wanted to take us back because his son needs his grandparents and, apparently, it wasn’t good for us to be away from our family. I said nothing and simply heard him say all that wanted to. I wanted to see how he made efforts to convince us. He had done a good job but all I had learnt while growing my hair gray was that love never comes so easy. It often takes a lifetime to bloom into a beautiful flower.

All I could say was, “Son, before you didn’t have place for us in the house. Think about it! How will you make place for us now? We also have about 20 sweaters with us, and a baggage of anger and disappointment. You won’t be able to afford us anymore. And, moreover, we just found a home within each other. This old age home looks perfect for someone of an age as old as ours.”

I didn’t look back to see if he still stood there or no. I had a home to look after now. I was a winner of that smile of hers. I couldn’t let that down by handing her back in the hands that were not strong enough to hold the grip. I looked around for a little bit of home, and then I found her back.

A home.

There was a weird calm in all the chaos around. There was a tinge of bliss in the uncertainness in the surrounding air. There was a little of home in the new corners. There was a peculiar fragrance in the house that narrated a story. I sensed the beauty of a love that bloomed under this one roof. The walls giggled and smiled and shone with glimpses of moments. The windows still smelled of the coffee they had there together every morning. And, the windchime told me all about the silly jokes he cracked to make her laugh. While I looked outside, there was a lawn that spelled the bliss of their everyday routine. There was a love they knit, and there were the promises they believed.

Their room did not allow me in. The door said – ‘It’s time for us.’ I opened it and walked into an altogether different world. The walls had a different shade and the mirror was painted with some conversations. Instead of one wall frame, they chose to deck up the wall with aplenty moments. This little world had a balcony attached. It said – ‘Keep your worries outside.’ A table with two chairs just talked about it all, while the lush green friends whispered about the secrets they heard here. This place was undoubtedly the heart of the home.

Walking to the kitchen, I saw nothing like I had never seen before. There was a small temple in there and all the other things that a kitchen should have. But, it was still different. It was filled with the aromas of the roti, fruits, spices, and a special baking fragrance. The dining table was loaded with some day-to-day talks, and the master bedroom was sprinkled with a touch of immense friendliness. The curtains had some moments hidden and love that turned a house into a home worth living a lifetime in.

Just when I was falling in love with the bliss that this place is, I heard the bell ring. The bell kept ringing until I woke up from my sleep, disappointed to learn that this was all just a dream. I ran and reached the door. Opened it to find mom, carrying bags full of groceries and screaming at me for making her wait. I guess this is what home looks and sounds like. But, the dream – it’s something I can surely look forward to.


Love. It’s such a small word, holding a fragrance, that is strange, yet brings us a sense of bliss. And this love, for your kind information, is anything, but blind. It’s anything, but deaf. It’s anything, but dumb. It’s anything, but stupid.
I could write a million things about love and still not tell you exactly how it feels to be in love. It is something that cannot be defined in just a few lines or verses or novels. There are a hundred versions of love and then there are some more. It is known to be an entirely illogical world where everything just happens while you’re still spinning your head around the moment when love arrived. But, mind you, the whole logic of this illogical world is love itself.
You’ll find yourself and lose yourself. You’ll see yourself in versions you never thought existed. You’ll be innocent, cunning, and witty. You’ll live in the moment. You’ll fall, and you’ll rise. You’ll learn to accept, and you’ll forget all that you were. You’ll live a hundred lives in just one look, and you’ll wish to cease that one moment. You’ll smile for no reason, and you’ll cry for some weird ones. You’ll feel stupid, but you’ll still rule while you fall.
Love will be blunt, and love will be drunk. Love will disagree to everything that the world forces on it. Love will make you fall apart, and love will find a way to mend you. Love will also obey. Love will face confessions and arguments. Love will make you want to fall for some strange bits. Love has reasons to be different. Love will be just what you thought it to be and every thing you never expected it to be. Love will make your eyes laugh and tears dance. Love will create magic while also killing emotions. Love will stay, despite of leaving you in solitude and helplessness at times.
Love was always here to say, if only you had a little time to see. Love breathes in secrecy, and announces its existence in shouts. Love is the poetry you will never understand, but would want to read every now and then.
Love isn’t blind; it only tends to see the calm in the chaos and the shining star in the dark sky. Love isn’t deaf; so what if that special voice tends to fall on it’s ears like music.
Love isn’t dumb; it only chooses to say everything in words that the rest of the world fails to understand.
Love isn’t stupid; it only doesn’t let the brain interfere in it’s heart’s business.

Where did the roses go?

Where did the roses go? Do they still grow? Or maybe they’re just old fashioned now in this modern world. I see readymade cards, and I see gift vouchers. I see iPhones gifted for it looks like love is still there, breathing its last breaths. I see the lovers giving each other some sloppy kisses. I see them smiling with the eyes that have already given up on expectations. There is practicality in the romance and reasoning for every time they say ‘I love you’. There is a tinge of dissatisfaction in the blushes. There are online options that need no efforts. There is a mess behind all the silence they choose to be in. There are lies that help the love stay intact, and there are excuses blown to find some space in a relation. Where did the letters go? Did we just forget to write love? Oh! I remember! I see all the love and bonding on Facebook and Instagram. I see people going on dates and on road trips. There’s so much to do in the outer world that maybe it’s quite boring to be at home on weekends and watch an old movie with someone really special. And I thought every place becomes special when we’re with our favorite ones. Silly me!
The roses are still there, and the pages are still waiting to be scribbled with words of love. But, do we have a little time? Do we still remember the ‘sparsh’ of love? Love is still there. It is still spelled every once in a while. But, have we got so packed up in our busy life that we cannot take out even a minute in a day to say, ‘I love you’? I know it’s typically clingy to say it everyday, but it’s nice to feel special in that busy hour of the day when there are a number of presentations to be completed and there’s nothing fun to look forward to. Why do you need a specific day to celebrate love when you have all 365 days of a year. Think about it, because it’s just the thought that matters. Your favorite voice is just a call away. What are you waiting for? Keep all the expectations, dissatisfactions, and practicalities aside and just love.

Never say ‘NEVER’

You’re going to meet those butterflies yet again, so never say ‘Never’. You’re going to feel the love one more time. No moment is the last time with these little things that keep you reminded of the forgotten knots. You’re going to fall again and you’re going to decide on rising yet again. You’ll cry because you felt helpless, and then you’ll laugh because you feel stupid. You’ll move on but something will feel stuck to that something. But, it’s never really about moving on. It’s always about holding on to something that has no life, no breath, no hope, and no scope of fulfillment. That’s the beauty of falling. You’re going to have to live it all one more time when the eyes meet, voices clash, smiles bloom, and when the silence tends to hide a million words. You’re not going to miss living all of it because it’s meant to happen again and again. You’re going to blush with anger and dance with disappointment. You’re going to disappear for yet another moment. You’re going to see things your way and say everything you never thought you would. You’re going to meet those butterflies yet again. You’re going flutter with giggles just like before, so never say ‘Never’.

We’re the youth. 

We’re the youth. The free birds. The bold souls. The wild beasts. The dancing monkeys. The blunt words. The fearless hearts. And, most of all, the dreamy arts. We’re a part of all the wrongs in the rights and all the rights in the wrongs. We’re the good in the bad and the bad in the good. We’re not afraid to say what we feel. We may sound arrogant, but we are sure about our beliefs. We believe in celebrating the little things in our own way. We believe in living in the moment. We believe in following our heart. Be it a siblings, lovers, or friends, we believe in respecting each other’s private space. It’s not that we don’t value love. It’s just that we’re way too vocal about our feelings, and maybe that’s why we are misunderstood to be emotionless. We do believe in love, but not illogically. We tend to question everything. We like to be the dull colors that are rarely seen. We don’t wish to be the blue of the sky. We’ll find our own ways to become the grey sky that spells calm. We’re misunderstood to be the rule breakers. Yes! We do break rules, but not out of disrespect, but because we have some artful ways to reach our goals. Our mind is never stable, but we do know what our heart desires. We believe in innovations, creativity, and independence. We believe in us. We’re the youth, and we’re here to change the world by guiding you to live life your own choice.