Our customary vegetable vendor pulls up right in front of our house…

My mother, already awaiting him, names out the vegetables and their desired measure to be popped into the basket one after the other…

As Mumma picks up a vegetable, scrutinises it heavily, upbraids the vendor if it is found unhealthy, rotten, undernourished or whatever, proceeds on until her basket brims with shiny, well-shaped, well-grown vegetables,

my frivolous mind wanders over the lush green herbs, corriander and mint, ( and a few more) laid down in neatly tied-up bundles, each costing 5 rupees.

The lustre and density of their leaves gave me a sense of richness and abundance of our natural vegetation and, in my mind, I reiterate the immortal lines by Kavi Sumitranandan Pant-

ओह, समय पर उनमें कितनी फलियाँ फूटी!
कितनी सारी फलियाँ, कितनी प्यारी फलियाँ,-

यह धरती कितना देती है! धरती माता
कितना देती है अपने प्यारे पुत्रों को!

हम जैसा बोयेंगे वैसा ही पायेंगे।

And while I stand there, contemplating that no matter how much we ‘pay’ for these vegetables, it would never be able to equal the love our Mother Earth showers upon us, my mother, done with her successful negotiations with the vendor, hands him the money, takes the change back and concludes-

“Thodi dhaniya aise hi daal do…”

This is the very corriander I am talking about…

The vendor obliges.

For, why not?!

From one Mother to my mother- Free Love.



You walk with me to the farthest of lands.

I’ll be with you for each step, holding hands.


In this expanse, you be and let me be.

Though two yet one, we’ll ride infinity.


I’ll rule the earth, and soar like a dove above,

And while people fall, I will fly in love…


A/N: So, I was trying something new! Poetry is not exactly my forte, but when i want to write it, I want to write it well. 

So I experimented with ‘Iambic Pentameter’ , a beautiful form of poetry. Do tell me how you found it…



They collided and fell, hard.

“You alright?”

“I am. You? It was a bad fall.”

“Yeah! But don’t you hide. Your face tells you are hurt. Tell me.”

“Eh! Look at your face. It is worse than it normally is. You are hurt. Let me see it.”

“I said I am fine. And my face? At least it is better than yours. Yours seems to be a smashed pumpkin!”

“You are so short and your face so distorted that you resemble a seventy-year old grumpy granny stuck in a child’s body!!!”

“How curt!”

“Wait! You are not even a girl. You have more facial hair than me.”

“Oh, no no no!!! It’s the other way round. You have more of female hormones than me!”

“That’s not even poss…”

“Which is why you are not a man enough to accept that you are hurt right now.”

“I AM COMPLETELY ALRIGHT. Totally fine. But you are not okay.”

“I am also good. I am okay.”

“Okay then”



A guffaw ensued by both of them. Ah! Childlike purity in those high-schoolers! Certainly a sight to behold.

They helped each other get up, dusted themselves, picked up their bicycles and continued ahead; still laughing.

The truth was- both were hurt, bad.

But the truth also was that their pains were already half-cured in each other’s loving and caring presence.

Or maybe there wasn’t any pain at all because they didn’t feel any.

He, unmindful of the scratches on his shin, and she, oblivious to the grazes on her elbow, bantered and dissolved into laughter all their way through…




Weekly Photo Challenge -SECURITY

Security is- securing your luggage
Security is mother’s lap. (My aunt with her son)
Security is having parents who love each other deeply even after years and years of marriage


Weekly Photo Challenge – Security



In the silence of a dark night; under the light of the mystical moon.