Category Archives: Travel

Monsoon -8

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Finally, the sky poured open its heart,

rain falling like an outburst of joy and sorrow.

Making the existence lighter for a restart,

for a better tomorrow.

                Photography Credits Go To Zubin Oommen Ittyerah

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Summer Vacation

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Days and dates don’t matter anymore till the last day arrives, when we have to say farewell and depart.

Everyone feels secure in the chaos of children screaming, running, laughing and sleep at night comes fast.

Time is divided between meal times only, am and pm is recognizable only by children’s sleepy eyes.

Mindless gossip mixed with some serious talk is exchanged during tea time, food becomes the primary priority for all.

Healthy food becomes non-existent, even fruits are consumed like shakes, loaded with sugar.

 

There is no privacy, no quiet hours, no usual tantrums of , I want to be left alone. Sounds turn into noise, noise into peels of laughter.

No reading or writing time, no grown up time, nothing but cartoons playing on T.V.

Elders get dead tired, while children have unbound energy. There are no sleepy afternoons, or nap times, everything is rolled into one crazy time slot.

There is so much to take in, so much to give, so much to share, so much to accept.

 

Nothing makes you feel more trustworthy than when a toddler for whom you did not exist earlier, addresses you for the first time, pulls your clothes and asks you to take him for a walk.

Unsupervised baking experiments of children take place, when cakes are baked with salt, thinking they were using icing sugar and finally expected to be consumed with compliments.

Every other hour you are supposed to visit the park outside your home in the heat and convince children that they should stay in or else will catch some deadly disease due to the brutal heat.

In all, it is sheer madness, the madness which begins as soon as the children enter the grandparent’s home and ends only with the goodbyes.

Summer

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Let’s escape to a place where the water hasn’t yet evaporated from the ponds, lakes and rivers.

Where bare feet can still walk on dew covered blades of grass in the mornings.

 

Let’s go to a place where chirping birds are the only alarms in the mornings​.

Where silence wakes you up as sunlight peeping through the curtains.

 

Let’s escape to that place where peacocks scream and dance to forecast the weather.

Where ants predict if the rain is approaching working untethered.

 

Let’s go to the place where flora blooms announcing the temperature of the day.

Where sunflowers tilt towards the Sun till May.

 

Let’s escape to a place where time is told by the length of the shadows.

Where meal times are dictated by commotion at the gate by the stray dogs, going to and fro.

 

Let’s go to a place where sparrows still exist due to lack of telephone towers.

Where people keep bird feed in bowls outside their homes with water.

 

Let’s go to that place where people converse, sitting together and not “Chat”.

Where people connect through emotions and not internet.

 

Let’s escape to the place where “web” means spiders catching dew drops like diamonds.

Where “net” means fishermen trying to catch fish near islands.

 

To a place where the breeze is still cool at five in the morning.

Where you wait for the day to unfold with great longing.

Virtual traveller

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She spins a web of fantasies and gets entangled in them,

Web working as a safety net, for all the adventures that stem.

 

From touring far away lands, exotic locations, soaking everything in,

Crystal clear water, rising mountains, flora and fauna that hearts win.

 

Oceans of gold and sky of silver, ships of clouds sailing over,

with treasures of stars, planets and moon seeming closer and closer.

 

Canyons, meandering rivers, volcanoes fuming smoke,

Sunrises and sunsets weaving fabulous lores of folk.

 

The world, a small place for her, fitting well into her collection of pictures.

A box full of photographs, a gallery filled with shares.

 

An ardent virtual traveller that she is, photos are her imagination’s fuel,

Threading pearls of memories together to form poetic jewels.

The staircase.

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Staircase spiralling up to the heaven or descending down to hell?

Taking you to the top or to the bottom of the well?

 

Reaching up for your dreams or treading on someone’s dwell?

Lifting the spirits or making them scream and yell?

 

Helping someone climb or pulling down, only you can tell!

Laughing while climbing or crying when you fell!

 

Looking up in sweet anticipation or looking down with fear of unwell?

Initiating action or waiting lazily for the gong of the bell?

 

Climbing up or climbing down, hold tightly the hand of integrity, don’t let your soul sell.

Protect it with trust and love, conceal it in tenderness and faith’s shell.

 

And if you choose to reach the top, be like a beacon to the ships in the ocean swell.

Guiding them to safety of home, bidding troubles farewell.

Photo Credits Go To Shaishav Agarwal