Category Archives: writing

A scene from daily life

Try painting a picture with words-
show, not tell how you feel.
The intimacy of daily life,
the transient thoughts that
never are recorded formally;

A foggy evening with absolute silence,
suspense in the air
a hot cup of chocolate in your hands –

how will that appeal to you?
How will you feel in this setting?

me? I am on top of the world-
and literally, I am.
In my high rise apartment building –
it is as lonely and beautiful.

Almost Idyll, perhaps.


This poem was inspired by the Weekend Writing Prompt (word – Idyll | length limit – 84 words)
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The reason I think of him is that my mother mentioned that it is his death anniversary today. Years of looking at the black and white photo in our home, with a dry flower garland around it most days, I never realized the date. The year, I remembered – from the moment I could connect that the year on the photo was also the year I was born in.

The reason I mentioned him today was another relative being in similar pain, I heard he was before he died – he had oral cancer. My mother tells me about the days he would moan in pain and there was nothing anyone could do. There were not enough pain killers 30 years back. Nor was there any cure for him.

I do not know him enough. Just that he was a really good father, a simple honest man who died in pain, but content to see his family around him. My grandfather never saw the majority of kids of my generation in the family but my grandmother was sure, he picked us all before we left heaven to arrive on the earth.

the fading memories
walking through unknown trails
circling family lines


Haibun for Dverse Poets

What makes “me” ?

Earth, water, air, space, and void;
The physical me is this combined.
My mother’s lessons, my father’s hopes;
my siblings imprints on my thoughts.
shredding the cloak of childhood so safe,
the rebellious teens paved their own way.
stepping out of home, the adult me
blindly searched to recognize my voice
out of the air, ideas begin to emerge
verses call out, mostly out of rhythm;
rejecting all that is real, or should be dear
words become the face of who I want to be;
I become the words, the ideas, the songs
grounded in clouds, I fly along.


Written for dVerse Poetics Prompt

May love


I look forward
to scorching heats and hot winds
feasts of melons,mangoes
and fruity cocktails with it;
May is the summers
that I can curse and wish gone,
but not before I have made memories
from trip to the hills,
splashing in riverside,
and the road to quick get away parties.

I look forward to this May
Or perhaps, a reason
to be able to love
the way I did in those mountains.


Inspired by Prompt @ Imaginary Toads

The trees sing for you ..

You would have heard,

The mighty trees swaying above,

No breeze was seen or felt,

Yet the trees sung their songs non stop;

You would have seen it clearly,

The stories flashing in your eyes,

The whispers of the past and futures

Serenading your subconscious self;

Life and death,two sides of the same coin

Enlightenment comes with wishes

That have no reason or rhyme

To pass from heart to lips of the wise mind.

Far into the soil, the roots grow strong

With every new generation,

A new ribbon tied to the branches

Already laden with hopes of souls long gone.


Inspired by #writephoto prompt , Also linked to Toads where the mention of tree story made me think of this article on Banyan tree that is much worshipped in India.

Home again

We meet.


We meet at the same place.

Like the first time

It is same where you left me.

That wasn’t personal.

I was a fool to walk away from you.

And I would do the same today

You can run away again, if that’s you are wondering.

Yeah, but where will be fun in that



The cat dropped from the castle wall into her arms.



Lets go home. The castle rats do not suit my appetite ..


Written for Friday Fictioneers

Newsletter of positive vibes

It started with one of my favorite twitter person starting his newsletter – #SoG ( a daily one ! ) A few months later I subscribed to newsletter of another inspiring lady from twitter and it kind of made me love this mode of communication. It is as private as much it is public , almost like a blog but this one I read in my emails and can respond immediately and directly to the writer. So a few more newsletter subscriptions later , I wanted to try my own. And that’s how “Letters By Prats” started two weeks back.

Yesterday when I was searching for a poem to share , I came across Reena’s exploration challenge and it took me to a time when I had fallen into a pattern of being down and out.

Every silver cloud , was sabotaged by my own attitude and insecurities. The worst part of all this was that I completely botched one of my best friendships during that phase and it’s never been same since. It drained the best of people around me in personal space , to make me stop being so bitter and full of resentments, but it was to no avail. and even today , months and miles away from that feeling , I am never too sure when I might slip into the old habit..

Bigger egos , smaller eyes,

heart so cold , hands clutched tight,

away from sanity , the words go,

accustomed to darkness,

the weak ones will grow..

And that inspired my second poem I shared hoping it finds resonance and helps someone battle the darkness just one more day ! While I can not turn back time and teach myself those lessons earlier , I do hope to never have to live through a moment when I lose faith on myself. It hasn’t been easy , but it has been indeed a huge learning and turning point that I hope I can share better with others and spread positive vibes , in all ways possible. This realization is what I decided to link to Trent’s call for weekly smiles because I have pledged to treat all that life throws at me with first a smile and then probably try not to run away all times 😛

Also linked to #MondayMusings where you can find some interesting thoughts.

PS: If you subscribe to any good newsletter, please share the link.

The woodden benches

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

The benches lay haphazardly , finished yet not so. They were not polished , painted , or attached to the tables. It would then have  been sent to the community school that ordered them for its park. But the new management decided to have stone benches instead and save on the annual maintenance.

He had not set foot in the workshop since that day. His only passion was in making the benches for the school every year. In months to come,he lost his daughter to demon of dreams. The demon took over her spirit and crushed her dreams. She had been walking with a dead look in her eyes since then. Many kids succumbed to the demon soon and the town now was all silent and gloomy.

It was the travelling sage had convinced the management about the power of the forest. The ancient trees fought the demon and that’s why the benches were only made of the wood from the forest. The town people knew it but have lost the faith as the stories passed to new generations.

He wished it wasn’t too late as he started to work on the benches again.


Written for Sunday Photo fiction