The Words

It is a different kind of head ache!

I do not have the copyrights for the image but 'googled' it with no intentions of getting myself into a copyright issue Please!
I do not have the copyrights for the image but ‘googled’ it with no intentions of getting myself into a copyright issue Please!


My head aches
and it is a different kind of head ache

It is bursting with words…
I am getting no sleep.

The remedy
I thought, was to write

rather than forcing myself

to sleep tight..uptight.

My head aches
and yes it is a different kind of head ache-

The words in my head are conflicting
there’s no use of resisting.

Yes, in my head,
they are forming thoughts..
good, bad and ugly,
fun, cheerful and bubbly.

These thoughts triggered by words-
they walk, jog, crawl, stroll,
run and swim…
come and go at their own whim.

It is probably

an odd head

that makes me sit up

in my bed.

And the fact is that
this headache
has no reason
or a rhyme
but the clock ticks
by its time.

Words break..brake

and I stay quite..quiet

Words make, words create

disappoint or appreciate

But I have got a head ache
and I can not sleep..

while these words
these mighty words
ponder at their ease, play sweep.

Words can drive you crazy
but they heal
and they seal…
Mind you,words are a big deal.

let’s handle them with care
I want to share because
if you do not,
you too will have a headache

And yes, now you know..
it will be a different kind of headache!!



And I am sleeping now.

That was some pill worked on me!!

 Last updated on February 7, 2012

Poem of me.

What would it be like being a Washing Machine?
What would it be like being a Washing Machine?

Flipping over my old notebooks to find a contact number, I found this poem penned in the City Library of Melbourne!

Those of you read me know that I have a habit of simply venting out the chaos in my mind, writing it down and sometimes share that here on the Snippets.

Actually I write.. release the emotions and then forget as I let them out on paper!
Amongst many phases in my life, this one’s quoted on 13th July 2009 being published on WP tonight. Strange & funny, I feel now, reading it but that’s the way it is. Enjoy the poetry while I try to figure out how it happened?

New to Melbourne then, i was trying to settle..and you will read below the impacts of being ‘not so’ settled!


Fear – of the unknown,
it takes me over…

Why-I try to find out
and feel an emptiness, a hollow;
which needs a shower…

A shower
to wash off this intense feeling,
to rinse off the guilt
and need a thorough cleaning…

YES, spin-it on…and spin it off..
tread the path of self-healing…

Ah! Just a phase..I tell myself,
face it to let go of it!!

I were a washing machine.
Switch ON
Turn to ‘Auto’ mode;
Dip,Wash,Rinse & Spin –

Ready for another wash??

—————–This was scribbled inside my NB——————–
Washing Machine Spin --lol I am happy finding this poem in my notebook!

Chandigarh to Hisar

As I was packing off from Chandigarh to Hisar –
I was feeling…
Well, I don’t know what I was feeling..but the journey was cool
With rains here and there
The weather seemed pretty good; mum-dad and I were reviving memories of childhood and the radio played beautiful songs. Today being RD Burman’s birthday – the radio in the car had songs from my mum’s college days, well, mostly and dad was smiling as she sang along some of the songs that were close to her heart 🙂

Just as we stopped over at my Bua’s place – Tohana – we were kinda hungry and mum made some hot pakodas with tea. We all sat and talked and had great fun relishing each bite. Sometimes, only such family gatherings, is all that you need to feel connected.

Hisar, however – is so hot. Though rains showered and breeze was cool…my neighbour said– there was a huge storm before it rained! Hisar is,any which ways, famous for it’s extreme weather and sandy something..well, not a storm..but well ‘aandhi‘ — I can’t get the right English word- sorry!

So..our home was heated and humid inside. We opened all the doors and with in an hour or so, every thing was settled to the normal routine. I am still a little in Chandigarh Lanes so thought to calm my veins and write the memory -in! 🙂
Visited – a nursery on the way
Flowers bought home – Mogra (probably, that’s jasmine in Hindi)
Hibiscus in white and also pink and Teardrops (!) a leafy thing — will write about it.

Dressed Up for the Day

I walked in a certain Deja Vu.
Dressed in a skirt of blue..
With a borrowed pair of ear-rings
beaded in purple and sea-green…
Along with some Kohl smeared
In my pink eyes;
I felt my spirits of goodness rise!!”

When in South Australia, I had often felt Adelaide as laid back and comforting as Chandigarh. So, while on my way..I picked up some flowers and leaves tucking them in my bag for the pottery/ceramics sessions I am attending in this city. The washed up streets, due to the early-day rains, and the fervent showcases of ‘love for nature’ dwelling anterior to every residence… filled me in with profound jollies!

As I walked past these little lovely, well-maintained gardens–something I miss in Hisar (my hometown); I was relishing each fresh breath of me.

Today- was my fourth session of the five I registered for, at the Red Mug Studio, Sector-8 C and I clearly had nothing in my mind to mould/create out of the stone-clay I am given. I thought, let the clay lead me..let nature rule me..take it easy..just be. No planning, no expectation..just be there for the joy of it. So, overall I had an amazing time of course and I hand-moulded the clay into small pieces of sweet-nothings! I skipped the wheel today for tomorrow’s session. 🙂

Continue reading

The Visual Outlet

The built up energies,
Burnt the past effigies

Heart warms up to you
Yes, I want to thank you..

Thank you.
For pursuing me
For agonising and then soothing me
For embracing my soul
For accepting me as a whole.

For much more.. I thank you
I promise,
I will not bother you anymore.

Just be present
Live the moment

Beautiful, this life is so beautiful!

Okay, done with the poetry bit.
Song of the day — O mere dil ke chaien
Feeling of the day– Joy
Others — Nothing much.