Summer Special
On the raw, chopped pieces of heartbreak,
Lay the sting of old memories with the tang of new experiences
A sprinkling of spicy promise
Lightly dusted with salt of good hope
And simmered in the heat of a new season.
Summer is here.
“I miss the good old days when portrait painting was the only form of visual reproduction. But of course, you are too young to remember that.” I read the words in a tiny glass screen in the palm of my hand. Not a muscle moved, not even an eyelash flicker….
So India’s contribution to otherworldly beauties is pregnant. My first thought was that it wasn’t either parent who announced this news but the grandfather (and indisputably the more famous Bachchan). I wonder if someone were to ask the younger Bachchan how come he didn’t say anything, his reply would be,…
When a wave of stories about men’s atrocities began coming out a couple of years ago, she and I found ourselves shoulder to shoulder and talking. And we also discovered a mutual love of sarees, especially when personalised to our contemporary lifestyles.
And sometimes,
looking up into the Sun
some veiled sugar
bottling all the pieces in,
quietly seeping
thickly concentrating,
waiting for the Day,
when it can tell off
the hot tempered tadka types,
“I dont need you sputtering folks;
I am Chhunda….I last,
and I bring happiness
round the year …”
@suranga date: Wow! 😀 I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of the early days, when a few friends and I would have these poetry-in-comments conversations.
Ramya !!!
Thats adorable 🙂
How you been?
Guess what.. everytime I came back to your blog over the last 2 years, I have been thinking about sitting with you in barista for a coffee in the morning 🙂 Should do it again sometime?
Next time I am in Mumbai – will try 🙂
Cheers
@Vagabondess: Mailed you.