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The morning has just broken and the sky is still deep blue. A sudden thought strikes  me like a bolt out of the blue: Expectation is the root cause of human misery. How often we have seen that our actions have not produced expected/desired results. Things fall smoothly into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

I feel lighter by years.Peace is slowly returning  but I only hope ( or is it my expectation again!)  it stays with me for a longer period of time.

The day has lengthened. It seems we are in for yet another scorching hot day with no rain in sight. The sky without the water bearing clouds looks so “character-less blue”(!). But one can still hope for clouds and rains!

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random thoughts





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An Entry from Lost Nut Squirrel’s Dairy

Dated: xx August xxxx

Thought for today:


like bees,

leave their sting behind!



forget or forgive…


your wounds





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How often we have flipped over
the pages of our foggy memory
and stood before our younger self?
So many journeys into our self in black and white,
So many times!


Ah, this is me, a plain Jane,
with a shock of curly hair,
grinning with a missing tooth!
And, here I am with my cousins
and my brand new carom board,
A gift on my thirteenth birthday!

And this again is me,
in a new pair of glasses
What a feather brained, book worm I was then!
And this one with my dear Amma,
(Such good looks she had!),
She wore sleeveless blouses and read poetry!

And here’s my father, the strict disciplinarian:
“Cross your t’s and dot your i’s
Come home before the last sun rays touch the sky!”
It’s here I stop in silence for a while
and watch my younger self come to life.
I shiver, I dread still, though I am  past my prime.
My younger sister,his favorite, carried tales to him,
(She was always the spoilsport !)
But this was no crime,that i had done
just being honest I thought it then.

He hollered and I saw a storm brewingimages (10)

“Hold your tears!
I have no patience for all this,
And I hate to  hear this emotional nonsense,
You’ve crossed the line, of discipline
So, no more radio, no more play this entire week.”
(It was adding insult to injury, I feel)
I crumble like a cookie, aghast .
But then if he thought he was right,
Let him be,why dwell in the past?images (8)

With this I am jolted back into the present
(Do I still resent it? I think, I do!)
Outside, the sun is a burning ball of fire
And it looks like rains have plans to retire,
(Forgetting us, the sinful ones?)

But, now I can feel the raindrops clinging to my eyes,images (9)

And I can hear the rain falling on my wounded soul!

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Disclaimer: The narrator has no intention whatsoever to justify or prove a point. All persons and events in this poem are fictitious.


Relatively Speaking

A lovely poem from Stephen Nesbitt’s blog Strangers And Poetry.

Strangers And Poetry

Relatively speaking

She was stuck

Deep within my head,

Like that crazy

Sexy jazz tune

That keeps you

Up in bed,

Relatively speaking

She wouldn’t go away,

Like that gorgeous

Blue grey stray cat

That comes for breakfast

Every day.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “The Fourth Book”

1:42 PM August 3, 2014

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(Photo credit: Google Images)

So, here’s the story for you…

One summer afternoon I found a lantern, in one of the smaller rooms of the old house I rarely visited. It must not have been too old as the paint had not faded yet but I never thought of finding it there. It wasn’t mine but then it wasn’t anyone else’s too, though once upon a time  it must have belonged to someone.

But that’s a different story.

So, this lantern was different from any other green and black and blue lanterns that you find  in shops selling cheaper goods . It looked good and dependable. But it had gone through rough weather and the glass had chipped a little. I picked it up. Little did I know that it was a magic lantern. How could I?

On moonless nights, the gold-and-yellow-and -orange flame of the lantern would light up the house.

( Are you listening, Kuchikoo?)

But then, you know, it had a mind of its own. Sometimes for days together, the wick would refuse to burn until coaxed gently. Then it would let out an angry sputter and a tiny spiral of grey smoke  but at other times, it burned happily. And then what magic it wove!

Rivers, rain, grass, flower, trees, mountains, sun, sky, stars , moon…all came alive on the wall where the light and shade of the lantern met. The wall became a huge white canvas on which a tiny black bird with red throat flitted past, a lonely cuckoo sang , a fluffy tailed squirrel looked around for a lost nut,  green forests , blue lagoons and backwaters… all  came alive… even the rainbow with a sun overlooking the blue cloud appeared in bright colors ( like the crayon colored drawings you make!)  a wild mountain stream …

Baby Kuchikoo! Have you seen a lighthouse? One that guides the ship from crashing at night? Sometimes this magic lantern was like a tiny lighthouse…Now , sweetheart, don’t ask me how and why! There shouldn’t be too many questions when you are listening to a fairy tale!

So, this is how things were!

The magic lantern is still here… It still weaves magic, but perhaps things are  mellower now.. Birds still chirp but cuckoos hardly sing so there are no more songs, sometimes peacocks dance and cry when silence whispers like wind,  but then the lantern still takes me to far off lands!

And I can see it safely placed on the china table near the window .

(Are you still there, Baby Kuchikoo?)

(To be Continued…)


The Magic Lantern Album Cover

 Photo credit: Magic Lantern Album: Cover photo