Clouds in the valley...

You wake me in the midst of a sultry day (For though awake, slumbering was I) Brooding dark and pensive grey, You bring back memories, a little sigh With passing days, isn’t it strange? That it’s older times that stir the heart- How familiar you seem, not much a change, The very same end, the very same start And it feels not bad, to be very true - To walk once more in your rains again, Wet, draggled, without a clue, To feel that memory once called pain Now just a part of yesterday, There is no more an overwhelm - And for a change, I feel glad today In stranger lands, something’s the same For my earth has strengthened bit by bit, Matters not the rains that pour, The path, with man-made lamps are lit My dreams need shelter not any more…

Mumbai: If you have exhausted your options for sightseeing in this bustling metropolis, or, if you are in dire need of some solitude-seeking, soul-searching serenity, the bucolic coastline of Maharasthra – the third largest state in India – is a fantastic option. Maharashtra is sadly overshadowed by the beaches of its much smaller cousin Goa, with loads of tourists and weekend trippers heading off to this southern paradise, while skipping the equally beautiful and at times, even more peaceful seashore havens of Maharashtra. However, with over 700 km of palm fringed coastline on the Arabian seas, Maha has a lot to offer. While beaches like Alibaug, Kashid, Harihareshwar and Ganapatipule list among the all-time popular ones, there are myriads of hidden gems that are a sheer delight to discover and drop by. Having criss crossed this state over the last many years, I personally prefer the beaches south of Mumbai to its northern counterparts, most of which are defined by incredibly lon...

The Seasons are for the world, my friend - For the sun, the snow and showers; But spring is for the homecoming To the innocence of the flowers The beauty of spring is best reminded by flowers. The weather becomes pleasantly mild balanced beautifully between the shivering cold and the sweaty sun. That summer is at the doorstep and the mercury will rise sharply further often catalyses me to become ' outsdoorsy' . Last weekend was no exception – we chose a small village nestled below the Blue Mountains called Rydal. Once known as the Solitary Creek, it was renamed after its counterpart in the British Isles where Wordsworth romanticised his words in the later stages of his life. As if in apt recognition of one of his most popular poems of the Romantic Age, this tiny hamlet ushers spring with a Daffodil Festival.  The villagers lovingly plant large swathes of their gardens and pathway flanks with myriads of daffodils. Who could pass down this opportunity to gaze upo...

“The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life”   I could imagine Ken Watanabe enlightening Tom Cruise in absolute Zen calmness (from The Last Samurai in case you are wondering what this is all about) with the above words.  I could further pretend to understand a fraction of the epiphany brought in by these deep words. All because I was gazing lovingly into the eyes of a thousand pastel pink beauty blossoms, resplendently welcoming Spring in early September. I was at the Auburn Botanical Gardens, notable for celebrating two weekends in a year with its Annual Cherry Blossom festival, in the midst of its Japanese gardens. It contained a long boulevard of cherry trees, denuded by a frigid winter, yet bedecked in floral beauty from branch to twig, as if awaiting the long pending kiss of an early Spring. It was not just a sea of pink – there were magnolias and lavenders in full bloom too, but the...

I really truly believe that my office will collapse the day I do not work. In my head I think I can see the blue glass building, near the creek, come crashing down. Or maybe this is just a stupid excuse I am making up because of my hopelessness in managing my vacation plan and work. I don't know if it’s the stress that builds up, or do events actually start happening, pointing to an inevitable doomsday- a venerable catastrophe in sight when there should be peace and quiet all around. Long story short, I wanted to postpone my vacation because of some insurmountable work pressure I was feeling. Mr. X didn't agree and he flew alone to Delhi on a Thursday but came back on Sunday, leaving us gloomy and staring in the face of a gone holiday. We still had a week of vacation left and nowhere to go and then, out of the blue, we decided on Srinagar. But soon after we booked our ticket, there was a a news of an earthquake in Srinagar and there were reports of rain and snowfall- thin...

There is a place on earth, a land full of wonder, mystery, and danger, some say to survive it,you need to be a mad hatter,which luckily i am.                                                                                       - Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland Mr X doesn't believe in ghosts, he doesn't believe in magic, and he definitely doesn't believe in last minute plans drawn up by me, at my whims and fancies. On Saturday, the Christmas long weekend seemed achingly long, it seemed like a perfect waste of a good opportunity- till Saturday 7 pm, which is where I start now from. Me - Do you want to come to Bijapur, we could catch the 9 pm bus to Solapur from Chembur. One day trip we reach Solapur in the morning, head to Bijapur and then back again. But there is a...