In the stillness of the early morning hours, the empty page stares at me. My pen is poised, ready to chart the course of the flight of my thoughts. The pristine whiteness of the page soothes my mind. Even before I have written anything, I am calm. With the process of writing I get in touch with that part of my soul which is nurtured by silence and blossoms with the light of attention.
Words… I see them floating around, pieces of paper, like confetti, carrying differently coloured words….disappointed…happy- maybe…been planning…so sad…glad…will do…nature…love…children- All these are snippets of pages from ancient diaries, diaries maintained over years, never re-visited, re-read yet carrying the ominous burden of the past. Stories about real and imagined hurts, extreme
We are sitting in the darkened movie hall and viewing a completely forgettable movie. Its mediocrity of story line, banal acting and vulgar dialogues make us cringe and seem like an affront to the intelligence of a common man. We decide to leave the hall and salvage whatever is left
Amita stood outside the beautiful bookshop. She peered inside and instantly realised that all was not well. The normally calm and collected, ever-smiling lady at the counter was having an argument with her staff. Upon entering the shop, it was soon clear that some missing papers were the cause of
People nurture different habits to cope with life. The newest phrase I heard was used by a nurse dealing with patients having serious and severe neurological problems. ‘Leap off the Lily pad,’ it is the only way to deal with an emotionally and physically exhausting job, she said. When I