Wednesday, November 2, 2011


The pain in my heart may not be as enormous as the carnage caused by bombings or genocide, but it did puncture my heart. It did make me feel I am going to drown in an endless pit of pity from where recovery just can not be made.
It was the first time I was opening up to a stranger , a stranger who didn't seem like one. The kind face and gentle eyes which said it did not judge me by what I have done , by what I have become.
He touched my wrist and I jerked away fearing I may again feel something, something that I haven't felt with another living person in long time.
I was happy, as happy as I could be after loss of my only child. I went out with my girlfriends and partied, I slogged at work and earned rewards and respect of my boss, I watched movies with my husband, I spent endless hours drinking and eating.
Drinking and eating which pretty much involved wine and vodka and chocolates.

I was happy but a tiniest bit of my heart somewhere inside my body betrayed me , betrayed the scene I was painting and landed me here in hospital pouring out my feelings to stranger

Sunday, October 30, 2011


Its small
Its color black
Its sounds click clang click

Its friend
Its my inner-self
Its my voice to world outside

Its a gift
Its wonderful souvenir
Its how I used to look at me

Its love
Its my passion
Its my reservoir of strength

Its small
Its color black
Its sounds click clang click

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Thursday, October 27, 2011


In world outside I am honored,
But in my heart am coward.
I am not afraid of ghost,
I do not fear of being fired from post.
I do not fear dark.
But I fear of fear.
I detest darkness,
I fear that one day ill peep
Into a crater that will be too deep.
Ill be pushed in for the sins I have done,
And remain there till I die.
Oracular cruel death.
Still ill remain in dark,
While sun goes bright and light.
Ill die for light, as dark has this mark,
“Evil will come as good men die here”

3WW- blogging after looooong time

I am a figment of my own imagination, 
inclined  to believe this is real,
The world i exist
The sins that please
The verisimilitude hard to leave
The pain and  the grieves 
The vulnerability of beings