A Fine Afternoon

I was sitting in the office cafeteria with friends and colleagues. Digesting lunch. I choose to sit and allow my stomach to have a slow digestion process. So what? I own a large bunch of lazy muscles. My stomach understands me completely! He knows It’s not that I don’t love walking with legs much or that I love my sluggishness (which sometimes I do!) Poor him realizes perfectly that I am good at ignoring most of the good lifestyle leading thoughts and ultimately actions! Plays his own tricks and techniques to remind me about my unhealthy habits (I guess every stomach does that) is norm and what he is expert in. So out of love (he thinks!) I do exercise once in a while to compensate. Okay! No more discussion on my bonding with my stomach!!

I Am With You

You need to be strong. Concentrate. You can’t break.  You can’t cry. As Raksha sat in front of the ICU with her old mother, who was almost unconscious. Holding herself together she tried listening to the surgeon, “Here is the most sever burn case I have ever seen. Krishna was burned 80 percent. Fire has eaten away most of her face. She has lost her child.” She started to feel heavy in her chest. Dizzy. Speechless. Hurricane of horrified feelings enveloped her senses. “The chances of her surviving are not very high.”

Saying It #4

Sure!

Real-estate, stocks, bonds and commodities are 

INVESTMENTS 

but so are education, art, spirituality, 

vacation, health, relationships and children.

Take time, manage your invests ;)

A Little Pencil

“First Aid Box. Check. Knife. Check. Spectacle Case. Check.”

“Grandma??”

“Blanket. Check. Fruits. Check. Books. Check… This old age can’t remember… I think everything is here now”, murmuring to herself.

“What are you writing Grandma??”

“Oh, darling! Did you say something? I have become a weak ear lately”

“Are you writing a story about what we’ve done? Is it a story about me Grandma that you writing?”

Saying It #3

To love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.