Paripoorna, is a word that describes a state of fulfilment and completion. It is an understanding that exists within and comes to the fore as a conscious state of being.  Paripoorna signifies a belief that nothing is lacking, spiritually, physically or emotionally, it is complete acceptance of oneself as an

Never having had a dog all my adult life, I really wasn’t prepared for little Bob’s arrival, a three month old black pug with a small, wrinkled face and enormous, liquid black eyes that followed me  like a radar no matter where I went. Bob and I were thrown into

We are driving through a desolate, arid stretch of a high altitude desert. The expanse of uninterrupted landscape leaves us city people gasping at its uniqueness and vastness.  Simple hutments boast of flowers that have been planted in rusted Mobil oil cans and discarded coke crates, adding beauty to an

We are driving through a desolate, arid stretch of a high altitude desert. The expanse of uninterrupted landscape leaves us city people gasping at its uniqueness and vastness. Simple hutments boast of flowers that have been planted in rusted Mobil oil cans and discarded coke crates, adding beauty to an

Sitting on a new bench under an old, gracefully ageing tree, breathing timeless air…. surrounded by light that is softly filtering through the leaves…an unforgettable atmosphere is created… everything contributes to its uniqueness… cobwebs that have missed the gardener’s vigilant eye and thrive in forgotten corners…a delicate abandoned nest, still

I am sitting alone in my balcony with a book. I got home after a busy day and am relaxing with a cup of tea and an interesting book. The late afternoon sun is lighting up the tips of the trees and the breeze is blatantly stealing fragrance from the

Tia was the undisputed lord of the turf. Tall, muscular and regal, with tawny eyes of a lion, he generated fear in the heart of passer byes as he mock attacked them and saw them scurry all over with loud shrieks and giggles. Long before I got to know him,

A little girl is begging at a crossing. She can’t be too old, around seven or eight and innocently beautiful. Her hair is the unique golden brown that a lot of kids living on the streets have. I think about just how parents elsewhere would want to beautify her and show

I wake up in the morning and am greeted by the red light blinking in my phone cheerfully. It signifies the presence of a message of some sort.  Someone remembered me as I slept. Excitedly, I open my inbox and find a round smiley with eyes shut and two small