The parting

Trying my hand at short story writing. I submitted this story to Write India Season 2.
Don't kill me if it's too sugary; the script demanded it :)

                                                     The parting

I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I know that everyone says that after heartbreak, but the difference is that I’m not heartbroken. I’m not cynical, or pessimistic, or sad. I’m just someone who once felt something bigger than anything else I’d ever felt and when I lost it, I honestly believed I would never have that again. But... I was 22 then and life is long. And I’m feeling things right now that I haven’t in a long, long time.
It’s a bright October morning, one of those pre-Puja mornings in Kolkata when the entire city seems to be in a festive stupor. The Ola cab is speeding towards the airport, reminding me of similar times many years back. Twenty- two, Forty-two or Ei…

An imaginary conversation: Holy(i )Tharoorism

A small take on Tharoorism ( Shashi Tharoorji is known for his grand style of speech, much like Sir Humphrey in “ Yes Minister.”)
Shashi Tharoor wishes me Happy Holi: “May your festive season be punctuated with revachism whose magnoliquence can only be theatropistically analysed by the use of reminiscent exacerbation. I hope you dont mind my apostacy. I know your arquistic impedance might not engulf this kind of debauched pedagogy because of its repuginatious tolecentrism.”

🤣🤣🤣 I wish him back from my side : " May my ecstatic heartfelt exuberance subsequent to your magnanimous benevolent eloquence towardsthis depraved entity be euphemistically magnified and perpetuated in the seasonal colours of this magnificent multifaceted Indian festival.May you and your progeny bathe eternally in its multicoloured hues so permanently so that your theatropistic ebullience be magnified manifold forewith.”
Samajh mein aaya? Nahi naa? That was the intent. Balle balle! I should have gone to Tu…

The Happy Scrapbook_2: Rapunzel plays Holi

Here's the second one in the online " Happy Scrapbook Series"
Pics by : Aarshi  Poetry and comments by: Abhi

“Rapunzel has very long hair,
Which always flutters here and there;
Rapunzel is very jolly,
And loves to play colours on Holi."

"She played in Red, Purple, White, Green and Turqoise blue colours.”


The Happy Scrapbook_1 : The parrot and the carrot

I am venturing into a new writing activity. My daughter Aarshi is in Class II ( soon to be in Class III) and loves to write poems and compositions. She has got her compositions featured in her school magazine. So we are maintaining a virtual scrapbook (since we live in separate locations), for the last two months.
I will be posting from this scrapbook in this blog, and if you like it, do show it to your children or other children who might love it.The amazing part is that these compositions have been written by an eight year old kid(Aarshi) who loves writing as much as I do .
We call it "The Happy Scrapbook."We all love our kids and want them to be happy.Why not infuse some happy creativity into them? 

Starrrting with " The Parrot and the carrot." 

The parrot and the carrot
Composed by: Aarshi  Illustration and Comments by: Abhi

“There was a talking carrot, Whose best friend was a green parrot. The carrot was happy And his friend the parrot’s wings were flappy. The parrot liv…

The Guru Maharaj

In Hindu philosophy, the role of the Guru is supreme. The one who leads you to enlightenment, guides you, elevates you. The Guru Paduka Stotram defines the Guru as one who protects you in this river of life from the hungry crocodiles out to devour you.Truly.

I have had many Gurus over the ages, in personal and professional life. Well, there was AS “ Maharaj” ( " saint" in the terminology of the hospital) during my MBBS internship days at Kolkata. Ever benevolent, gleaming bald pate, always ready with his toffee for you (he had a bunch of these ready at all times) ,and on special occasions, a rasagulla or two. He would hand these out to everyone, probably feeling that he was blessing them.
He loved cracking jokes that made no sense (in other words, PJs). And he would be the only one laughing at these jokes. The comical, rotund Maharaj reminded me of an oversized teddy bear whom no one took seriously.

It so happened that he called me to his office room one night at eleven for bes…

The best of times, the worst of times