Happy and Responsible Independence Day

Wishing you all a very happy, and most importantly, a RESPONSIBLE Independence Day.

Well, few days back Vishesh has conducted a poetry/story contest in which both Sameera and myself have won.

The poetry/story had to be developed from the 3 photos below. Here is my entry:

Images’ courtesy: Vishesh‘s Blog.

A tribute to all the people who lost their lives in the recent bomb blasts:

Let the budding spirit bloom like “a flower”,
in this time of gory and violent hour,
to see the humanity atleast from far.

Let the spirit envisage the “blossom of power”,
that helps us put two and two together,
and find out the ones that made our nation wither.

Let the eternal”hope” spread its colour,
on our “spirit” and our “power”,
as we pray for the peace to shower!

PS: The first flower is our Spirit, the other flower in the second photo is our Power, and the three colourful flowers in the third photo are Hope, Spirit and Power.

Sunshine of life

Alright! I would post this short story (rather, not-so-short 😉 ) in three parts. Here’s the first one! 🙂


It started drizzling suddenly. All the kids playing around a few minutes ago were running towards the shelter. The elderly lot who were rambling in the park started walking briskly. The Gol Gappa seller was wrapping up his things and running towards a tree. All this didn’t seem to care me.

The smell of the wet soil, vast green grounds of the park and a bench in the midst of it. I sat on the park bench. Megha sat beside me. I couldn’t stop looking at her hair caressed by the cold breeze. Her ear ring started tapping her upper cheeks playfully. My hands raised. It was almost a reflex action. I wanted to fondle her hair.I felt as if this was THE moment, sitting on a Park bench with Megha.

“It’s starting to rain, Nihaal”, she rose to her feet suddenly. She caught my raised hands and almost started dragging me towards a tree.

I could only see her moving pink lips. She pursed her lips.

“What?” I asked her. She gave a playful smile.

“Nihaal, what’s up with your part time job?” she asked suddenly.

“Are you sure you want to discuss that now? Come on, Megha! Such a great weather”, I almost complained.

“Nihaal, i am serious” she said.

“Well, I did get an offer. Some private agency. They have a trauma care center and I will have to deal with suicidal tendencies and crap. Such a depressing job”, I said, rather impatiently.

“You should give it a try Nihaal. it’s not just about earning. You get to help people”, she asserted.

“Not for me Megha!” I wondered why she was so boring that day.

She sighed. “Well, let’s go. It’s getting late. I am worried Mamma would shout at me”.

I wanted to touch her soft cheeks that raised as she pursed her lips.

I started my bike and headed towards Megha’s house.


“Let us run Simi, It’s RED again!!”, shouted Suhaan amidst the squawky sounds of the vehicles that paused at the red signal. Simi gathered all her playing marbles in a haste, puckered them in a small shrivelled grey pouch and tucked it inside the pocket of her faded brown petty coat.Simi ran behind Suhan until both of them got lost into the vehicular jungle.

“You catch up with the rickshaws”, Suhaan signalled Simi.

“And you, the cars!!”, Simi turned back to Suhaan and orderes, pointing her dusty, but gentle palm at Suhaan as if he were still waiting for her response.She ran onto the road, all along the buzzing vehicles, that were as impatient as their owners.She cupped both her palms and started singing in a cursory manner.

“Look at me if some time do you find
Show this poor that you are kind
Lend me a penny if you dont mind ”

She knows many such songs which she learnt from her other friends, slightly elder to her, who come from the country side along with Jojo. She often wondered what the songs meant.


As we approached the Frazer town signals Megha shouted suddenly, ‘Nihaal, stop!”. I could see her, through the corners of my eyes, waving frantically behind me.

“What’s wrong Megha? I can’t stop here. The signal is GREEN”, I said, rather irritated.

“Take a U turn at the next signal, Nihaal” she ordered, “Did you see a small girl crawling across the road? I think she was hit by that black car”.

Megha is more sensitive to these kind of things.I sometimes wonder if she makes a better Sociology student than me. I did not know why I chose Sociology in college.It is not as interesting as I thought it would be.

I took a U turn and parked the bike at the corner of a telephone booth. We crossed one side of the road and stood on the divider.

My heart wrenched for what I saw. No one seemed to care about the girl. All the vehicles rushed through the road. They formed a branch at the spot where the little girl fell in a pool of blood. They created a traffic island for the girl. No one seemed to care for her.

As the signal went RED, we quickly walked into the road from the divider. Megha took the little girl into her arms.
We carefully lifted her and moved towards the foot path. I could see tears in Megha’s eyes.

“Get some water, Nihaal”, she said.

A pool of people soon surrounded us. Each one had a suggestion.

“Poor kid”, someone murmered in the group.

“Does she breathe?” someone quizzed. 

What a herd mentality people have!

Megha took her hand kerchief and wiped her bleeding legs gently. The little girl quivered. She opened her weak eyes. Her looks were staggered. She was searching for someone.

“Suhaan”, she called in a feeble voice.

                                                                            ……… to be continued.