TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 37; the thirty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “Truth is stranger than fiction”

TISTF

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Is truth absolute or relative ?

Is truth what you hear or what you see?

Truth alters with time , metamorphoses through minds

TRUTH ; it’s in the very trice…

FICTION ; I cut it slice by slice…

I state my past as facts,as truth ,but future floats as a fiction,

truth reins me , I restrain  the fiction,

but fiction should make sense ,means truth can be nonsensical

or is it so paradoxical?

FICTION : I mold it as per my comfort

I hold it ,erase it, shipshape it~~ till my hoggish heart surfeits,

till my overtaxed  reflexes, relaxes,

It’s like a twilight that enhances every junction,

it’s my creation with core conviction

TRUTH: I tried to mold it ,manipulate it,

but it outshone with poise,

it tunneled through and through,

I had obstinately no choice..

Truth is in the mother -child bond,

It’s in the scare of being forlorn..

Truth could be found in the gleam of the little girl’s  eyes

When she holds tightly her favorite toys..

It disencumbers , sets me free,

I close my eyes , still I can see..

Truth is self -sustained ,no pillars,no foundation

it’s beyond words ,hitherto has no description

TRUTH really is strange , stranger than FICTION…..

**

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

shared with POETS UNITED

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

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“..and then there were none “

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 36; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “and then there were none”

The big haversack, rugged ,messy, mucky ,in shreds

agog for his per diem sojourn…

To gaze the flocks of colorful feathers,

to chase the on-road fellow riders.

Rows of dahlias and poppies,

lurking from balconies hails him..

He is enthralled and stupefied,

suddenly the brakes are applied..

jumping and bumping, now, on a shoulder- ride

A second slipped ,a familiar stroke he sipped

Aah!! it was the only one, the last one ,one last letter

and that too is now delivered..

Oh!! it left me empty ,it left me devoid

..and then there were none ,he ogled inside,

Hundreds of strokes flipped in his mind ,

Zillions of expressions did unwind,

dubious ,subtle,dialated eyes ,cheeks puffed up,

he captured those winks of triumph and cheer..

 even  the spells of grief and despair..

How wondrous he found himself  , he carries so many mysteries around,

he escorts in, memories,colored ,hued

 strings in, sometimes, what you just mused..

plays hopscotch ,runs,rides and comes to you across the miles

spine tingling he is ,together with him, rides both, the tears and the smiles…

Isn’t this a miracle ??

It comes from within the postman’s haversack magical …

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

“..and the world was silent again..”

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “…and the world was silent again”

Day after day the beautifully sculpt mold was taking its shape.the delicate chord passed on life to her.The rhythm of her breath  seems to be a celestial melody.her kicks inside the womb makes one’s heart to take a joyous leap.Suddenly the mirth and glee were pauperized..She was the victim of maniac minds and ogreish hands .She was made to miss the moment  to enter the world.

One more world was made to be silent again….

Hearts bled ,veins spurted, minds shuddered.

Black and white turned red,rallies,bandhs,candle marches,uproars and anger bursts,alarms and excursions were at their penultimate point…..only for a few days ..and the world was silent again..blind,deaf and dumb.it was marked as just another death.

Angelic face with a  cherubic smile,dreams sparkling in her eyes ,innocence seems to have been playing around you. Vibes of thousand thrill gushed down your veins just with her loving touch.she is yet to learn to verbalize her feelings and emotions,Your world hops around her….another black day-  few horrendous minds schlepped away  that little one from the bosom of her mother, wrung her neck,and then threw her in the garbage tin.

One more world was crushed and  made to be silent again….

Hearts bled ,veins spurted, minds shuddered.

Black and White turned red,the lungs were strained,the brouhaha in every nook and corner of the city,hue and cry upsurged…only for a few days .. and the world was silent again...blind, deaf and dumb..it was marked as just another death.

After facing all the challenges ,fortunately if the female fetus transits to a teenage girl  and yet another fortune cookie comes in favor of her to have wonderful parents who educates her,secures her , try to bless her with all the roses in her life  . Some brambles outside their sweet home lurk around to nail these blossoming buds .

She was dragged brutally,she shrieked in agony ,yelled for help.The dregs of the society assaulted her ruthlessly- mentally ,emotionally and physically .She filed a police complaint.The court orders sent her  to the Woman rehabilitation center .It was even more exacerbating to know that she was riotously made to go  through a series of sexual assault,verbal and physical abuses in that center itself.She protested ,she wailed,she squawked.The police ,the warden ,the lawyers compelled her to zip her mouth.                                                     Protectors of the society turned out to be predators.

She, with all her vigor came out to reach for justice once more.But the venomous claws were not too far from her .They grabbed her again ,drilled and bored her  body completely with sharp cudgel,slammed her head against some sharp edges. .The chunks of her body with  blood clots were found on the roadside.she fought bravely but could not defeat death.Graveyard seems to be the safest place for a woman..

One more world was shredded and was made to be silent again..

Hearts bled ,veins spurted, minds shuddered.

Black and white turned red,spite rallies,protests,tweets,FB status updates,blog posts,anger  outbursts  were all around,  saying .”Merciless sadists “,”gruesome gory act” ..”and still they come under the category of human beings…even animals are much better than them”…the outcry took another tangent this time,The banners said   “Geld these bloodthirsty beasts .Let them be between the same  hawk and buzzard “…its high time for a concrete change in mindsets,law and justice

…and the world …..??? Will it again be silent  ???Will it again be blind ,deaf and dumb..??? Will this also be marked as just another death ??

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Calculating Insanity

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is “Of-Course, I’m insane”

**

I don’t know how to calculate associations,
I don’t know how to manipulate relations,
I don’t know how to encash emotions,
I don’t know how to misuse informations,

I don’t know how to backstab my friends,
I don’t know how to pace up with the latest trends,
I don’t believe in the theory of tit for tat,
I don’t know how to flaunt and overact,

I don’t know how to bite utterly- butterly,
I don’t know how to prey nimbly,
I don’t know how not to be me myself and I,
I don’t know how to artificially smile or cry ,
of course, I’m insane, I don’t know how to be a good dealer in life ..

Nothing I could do but to be silent because
what I know is, that silence is a  great healer in life ..
But of course, I’m insane, I don’t know how to be a good dealer in life…

P.S   I know it’s really an immature crude poetry..landed down
yesterday,with a high fever after lots of travelling..I just didn’t want to break the continuity..

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Celebrations

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is ‘Celebrations’

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Life is not all about reaching the destination , it’s about celebrating each moment of the caravan
It’s not all about minting money, it’s about celebrating each moment of satisfaction  

LIFE ITSELF IS THE BIGGEST REASON FOR CELEBRATION

Oh!! Wonderful, so graceful..stands confident and crowned in the peer group, glowing unblemished skin,virginity intact.. Hands just slip in to catch hold of it , seems to be delicate , aesthetically crafted by an artist..Aah!! So hot and steamy.. Here comes the show stopper for today’s evening – Hot, hot de novo tea set ,afresh member in the family of my crockery window…

She ended up the commentary on a musical note trying to make sound like a trumpet.. Aghh!! I swear it wasn’t her cup of tea…the juicy bit of the melodrama was still left…She said hey LP ,look what I have bought to sweeten my kitty…..my eyebrows were dying to touch the hairline when I saw some unusual thingy in her hand …and without losing a second she splattered her thrill showing me a trendy, fashionable ,embroidered tea-cosy for that tea set …and she sparkled her teeth ..I too smiled and sang along in a low tone , Baawari , now what’s this for ( with a big question mark on my face)?? Is there any festival around???

She said, ” no dear, no festival “….You know me, LP , don’t you?                  Celebrations are not just confined to festivals for me. I think every jiff of life is to be rejoiced and savored.***

One of her passions was to be with nature.Every plant in her garden has a nickname given by her . If she is not inside the house you can find her in the garden talking with any of the plants ,appreciating their shining leaves ,their buds,their soft velvety touch,getting whiffs of their fragrances ,congratulating them on flower blooms and much more.The heights of her being a nature freak was that the gifts to her family and friends often use to be small potted plants along with the tagline”Save Green,Go Green”.She was simple yet phenomenal.She was as beautiful as a Lily but wasn’t lily-livered.Her bizarre ways of living life use to leave me tongue tied at times….

There are lots and lots of episodes from Saanwari’s life which have been captured in my heart for my entire lifetime .Above were just a few flashes from it..**

Oh!! I haven’t yet introduced you to Saanwari.. My beloved , my life , the one and only my charming wife.. Sometimes I use to call her “Baawari” which means ” little inane”.. In return she also kept a pet name for me, LP… After hearing my nickname I could not stop myself cracking a PJ(Poor joke) ..I said to her , don’t ever call me as LP ji.. People will take it as LPG…..I looked at her and tried hard to laugh to present it as a joke but my efforts were all in vain,she didn’t even spare a smile for my effort..Anyways I was still in the quizzing mode to ask about the full form of LP. She answered “Life Partner “, with a cherubic smile on her face.I was always up to give my heart out for such innocence…
Her zeal towards life was so astonishing …her perception use to do miracles,her words use to add fresh oxygen to life…She always added vibrancy to the mileposts and celebrated them in her own unique grand style..she was the one who taught me how to celebrate even with the memories and that is what I am doing right now ,celebrating with her memories by sharing those treasured episodes with you ..       I lost her last month..

****
manzil ki talaash mein, dar dar bhatakte hain,
pal khushiyon ke ,haath se bas yun hi sarakte hain..
Manaana chaho to ,jashn ke kaaran bahut hain ,
per hum to bas, utsavon ki raah takte hain…

**

P.S  This post has been written in hustle n bustle in just half an hour..Didn’t even had time to edit it. So  please bear it this time.

  HAPPY FESTIVE SEASON TO ONE AND ALL

**

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 03

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

AN UNTOLD STORY

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is ‘An Untold Story’

SHORT STORY          

Note : This story is a work of PURE FICTION and any resemblance in name, place etc. to any person is purely coincidental.  

Enbosoming an entirely different world in me , multifarious creatures are living here as natives or tenants, holding a muster of precious artifacts , remnants of history , souvenirs of passion, snippets of altercations; endorsing legion of emotions , embracing umpteen turbulent hearts and minds , eyewitnessing myriad untold stories of the daily rhythms and on and on ….. And you know what?? …my expressions could not be more than either taking agile leaps , getting wilder sometimes or being calm, swift and caressing…. Anyone coming to my shore consider me as one of the most plausible friends to share even their secret of secrets….
Aah!! See there is someone sitting on that rock candy by my side ….. Oh!! I know, she is Aanya. She comes here often..

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Swollen red eyes , tears trickling down her cheeks relentlessly, her traumatic condition, all were unveiling the excruciating pain she was going through. The crests and troughs of the emotional storm were way too high …… She was wailing and on a spur of the moment the volcano inside her erupted. I could hear her scream as she was saying~ Why me ? Why always me ? Whether the lanes chosen by me or chosen by life for me why they always have a dead end and I have to come back all the way and start from the scratch again…. Why it always happens with me ?She sobbed and cried and cursed herself..

***
I was very calm at that moment caressing her feet again and again so that she may feel lighter.. What more could I have been able to do ?? Sometimes I really do feel crippled when I am unable to soothe someone’s heart…I was in despair and it was chilling me to the core until I heard a very familiar chirpy voice ..

***

Yippee!! I bounced with glee and leaped happily….She is here !!..Sakhi , a sweet little ebullient girl ,eight or nine years old was playing with her mother .They were a little far away from Aanya…I dedicated all ears to her for a while …I could listen to her giggles ,clappings,naughty talks as she was enjoying making paper boats while asking her Mom to write something on each of them.After it was all done she took each paper boat in her hands gaped at the sky for a while as of she was saying something to God and then sailed them one by one on my waves ….I became a little wild in ecstasy and took the liberty to dance with her boats…

***

Unfortunately one of her paper boats died ( it had to, after some time, Sakhi knew that) but fortunately it sailed all the way to Aanya before dying….
Aanya, for a jiffy, came out of her envelope of grief and exasperation when Sakhi’s paper boat touched her feet…She picked it up , there was a small flag tucked inside with something written on it. It took her a while to understand that word …It was “HOPE“.. While she was busy with it, she couldn’t realize that someone crept behind her …. They were Sakhi and her Mom..

***
As soon as Aanya turned around, Sakhi tried grasping her boat .. She said she was sending a wish to God . This one word if missed could weaken her message…Aanya could not keep the curiosity to herself and asked her about it…
Sakhi passed a faint smile to her Mom…her Mom’s eyes were brimmed with tears ,she gasped and  told Aanya that Sakhi’s vision is blurring day by day and after sometime she will be completely blind .. Doctors Will not be able to do anything until she matures to the age of 18 …She comes here daily with me to send her prayers to God .Today she wrote “Thank You God for a beautiful day, hope to see more colors tomorrow ” .The boat with the word ” HOPE ” jaunted towards you along with the current ….
Aanya was stunned and dumbstruck. The enthusiasm , the positive vision towards life of Sakhi at this tender age pricked Aanya’s enshroud of grief and  slowly it withered away .. Aanya was in a whole new avatar now…She saluted Sakhi who left with her paper boat written “HOPE” on it….

********************************

Mischief hovered on my waves as I drifted towards Aanya to share that euphoric moment with her. I just rocked , rolled and fondled her legs again and again in exuberance ..The new confident, smiling Aanya also turned to move off to her place …
These untold stories are the precious gems of my everlasting treasure and I feel honored to share one such gem with you ..
This Untold story has turned to be a Told story now…

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STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 31; the thirty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is ‘Strangers in the Night’

 
 
 
 
The raindrops glissades on the window panes
and so did my musings waxes and wanes….
 
Children on the streets in tattered clothes ,
trickling tears on their cheeks with urge of repose
and heart blazed with beaming hope
Shall come – Strangers in the night
and life will be a perky bite…..
 
love disappears , relation cleaves,
feeling shattered ,heart grieves,
but still blazed with beaming hope
Shall come-  Strangers in the night
and life will surely be on cloud nine…..
 
the wrinkled skin- primps, preens,smirks and smile,
sudden stop at old age home , all lost in a while,
but still blazed with beaming hope ..
Shall come –  Strangers in the night
and life will be a pie in the sky….
 
muddling mind ,stirring soul
lurking dreams,aphonic lure
all puddles and what is poured ?
A STRANGER who is wished to come in the night 
to  make life a chimerical paradise…
                           ….chimerical paradise….chimerical paradise..
 
 
 
 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: NONE, Participation Count: 01