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Who's fault is it anyway?

"A 5 year old and a 12 year old, brother - sister were mowed to death by a passenger train on the MP railway tracks, the angry mob burnt the engine driver alive" read the paper lines. As usual my brain started questioning: First of all, what were those two kids doing on a railway track? Apparently, they were playing. For the callous attitude of the parents, the driver had to die a ghastly death. Its a train, even if the driver had applied brakes (which I am sure he would have), it would take some time to take effect, its not a car. Who's fault was it? Today, I was in the Delhi Metro, one of the best innovations that happened to the city :). Anyway, a lady boarded the train with her two kids. The kids were running and playing in the coach, they must have been in the age group 8-12 years. The mother continued to browse on her cell phone. When they were about to reach the destination, both the kids went to the door, and started leaning on it, the side which was to ...

My stuff...my nonsense.. Can you write your own??

It was a horrible day yesterday. A friend told me that another 'friend' had copied two of my blogs on fb, word to word, without editing. She even managed to pull off few compliments. All this, without an iota of guilt. So, I had to go through the ordeal of export-import-delete my blog, and create a new template, an id, a blog name, blog address. Phew! It's not easy to just move from an address I have been using since last 3 years. And everything in just couple of hours. Then had to share the link with my friends, add the links that I read to my reading list. All this trouble because, some person decides to just copy. I do not, I repeat DO NOT under any circumstances, claim to be a 'writer'. I am a very simple woman, who has been sharing her views in writing. Blogging has provided me the space, the freedom to just type down my thoughts, feelings and expressions. Its like a friend, who is a great listener and non judgmental. I dont care, if I write something ...

Mind your P's and Q's

Did a little wiki search to refresh my memory, for the exact meaning of P's and Q's. While, one explanation was that it stands for 'P-lease' and 'Thank you', the thank you makes the 'Q' sound hence that, while there was another interesting one which said that in the pubs and taverns of the 17th century, bartenders would keep a watch on the alcohol consumption by the patrons - 'Pints' and 'Quarts', hence Mind your P's and Q's. When I read the second line, the first thought that came to my mind was, "Wow! Concept of pubs was that old?". Well I soon realized that my focus was shifting, so came back to the first explanation. WHAT is with PEOPLE these days? Where are the days when courtesies in general and social courtesies in particular, were given utmost importance? Only and only for this reason I somehow don't appreciate the invasion of mobile phones in our lives. Earlier, when there was only the landline, I remember p...

Don't kill the spirit

How many times have we come across people who are so frigid about their thoughts that they just refuse to let go? I have met many like that, and some of them I have closely interacted with, also. You find these 'mood spoilers' everywhere, mouthing their venom - like- verdict at kids and adults alike, so much that sometimes I get scared that the flowing acid might actually cause burns. I know these few ladies, who have told their children that Santa Claus doesn't exist, thus robbing them of their innocent fantasies and the joy of writing Christmas wishes on a paper. The same kids, then go around telling everyone, that their Mum said, that there are no Santas. There are people who do not believe in the concept of celebrating birthdays,  their argument, "it's just another day". The birthday song is sung in schools, as the teachers now enthusiastically put up birthday charts, with the month and name and pics of children in their classroom. So, kids are equally exc...

A short story

Isha was confused, and this confusion had nothing to do with 'what to cook, 'what to wear', 'where to go' 'what veggies to buy' etc.. Since past few months, there was something weird about the house. Every now and then when she got back home after picking up her kid from school, she felt as if someone had been present at home in her absence. The first time, the pillows were put at the headboard, while Isha remembered having tossed them aside as she had to rush to school. Then another time, the bath towel was put out for drying, whereas she had left it in the bathroom. Once when she got back home, she had found sand grains in the bedroom and sometimes there was a faint smell of something sweet or flowery. All these incidents started scaring her, they anyway lived in hilly areas as her husband Sanjay worked for tea estates, and she had always heard in abundance the ghost stories and how they were present in the misty hills, on top of it, Sanjay had to travel f...

Serenity Re-defined

It takes a cup of adrak wali chai loaded with sugar to write about Dharamshala. Geographically, it's in Himachal Pradesh, the state which is known for it's beautiful hill stations. Dharamshala as the name suggests, is the "resting place for spiritual travelers". I guess the Dalai Lama was one such spiritual traveler who loved this place so much that he decided to make his abode there permanently. I am not going to write in detail about the demographics, as that can found in wiki. I am only sharing my experience. We started on an Autumn morning, left Delhi at 5am. My DH loves to drive. Our SUV is practically a second home to us, that's why most of our trips are planned just overnight, where we dump our stuff and drive on,this was one of them. We reached Kurukshetra around 7am, pulled over for some nice chai and 'biskoot' break(yes that's how biscuit is pronounced up north), while the lil one was snoring away to glory on the backseat. After driving for c...

Snippets...

Hate is a strong word, yet people throw love around as if it doesn't mean anything. Ever noticed, people who say that they can be happy in any situation are the first ones to create a hue and cry over a missing button. Sometimes, people are not loved because they are special, they are special, because some people love them unconditionally... /li>