Thursday, January 30, 2014


In a way, each story has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again- the fire and the smiles and the hopes that love kindles and brings joy.

The stories that we write are not what really happened or events that could really happen. These come from an imagination that loves to wander and see what would have happened if!

Sometimes, it is sunshine and laughter outside; depends on the state of this mercurial soul. The reality looms large taking everything away and sometimes giving blessings unasked for.

Your stories reveal the joy of finding happiness in new things, which are in fact, new ways to name the old likes and loves while I harp on change and about moving on but have stayed in the same year where I stopped learning.

The fire still burns in these kernel stories of love, longing and loss and we have become like straight lines that run along throughout the many lives. 

Monday, January 27, 2014


You are my other; the one who helped me learn about life and my own self. You might have changed shapes, names and faces but you have left an imprint on my soul.

You called me sister and played with me beside the River Green. Then with the passage of time, you became a stranger who loves new faces and new sisters.

You called me love and entangled me in your passions and broke my heart with the ease of throwing away a used paper cup into the dustbin.

You called me mermaid and lured me into a whirlpool of words; only to show how good you were at playing around with words.

You are a lesson, a mistake, may be a chapter that I cannot forget, a face I cannot forget in spite of the years, in spite of all the bitterness and happiness that has filled this soul.

You have taught me how to live, how to be and how to love; the lessons are not bad as you can see for yourself. 

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Appendage to Bacon's great aphorism from "Of Studies"

Reading maketh a full man; Conference a ready man; Writing an exact man and Raymonds a complete man

Friday, January 10, 2014


When I looked at the Christmas lights that year
It’s your special message that I remembered,
Then I thought of choosing a right gift for you
And couldn’t find anything good enough,
Then on advice from someone I thought wise
I gave you a diary with so many paintings…
Don’t know how you felt about it; free gift
It was but my friend admonished me so much
But I guess it had nothing to do with my gift
That you who were so dear went so far away
So far that you are more like a mirage than real
More like the taste of dreams from childhood.
I called you my mentor when you were around
Now eons later I still wonder if you liked my gift. 

Pensiamento Fantastico: The Kitchen God’s Wife

Amy Tan’s novels serve as cultural documents that describe the immigrant experience in terms of communality and identity. They con...