A little kid inspired me to write this. Wish I could tell him. Maybe some other day.


I wish to be busy. Not the corporate ladder racing, money chasing, all work no sleep kind of busy. I’d like to be busy like a child. That child who’s playfully chasing butterflies and ants, hugging and talking to the pet, getting distracted every few minutes, building imaginative castles. And at sun’s exit, finally sleeping tired, with a smile, eagerly looking forward for the next day. I wish to be busy.



She repeatedly heard that ‘Justice is Blind’. She didn’t understand it. All she understood was that her father was being taken away from her, her mother cried and prayed more than usual. Sitting in this court again, filled with heavy hopes, all the innocent four-year old wanted was to rip off the ribbon from Lady Justice’s eyes so that She could see that her father wasn’t wrong.

My secrets

I lie on your table. The calligraphic ink stopped abruptly as you left, keeping the pen beside me. My pages slowly flip in response to the fan’s gentle lullaby. I’m filled with your stories,secrets and desires. You know I treasure them and won’t spill them out. But I really wished there was a way you could know about my feelings, my secrets too.


I learnt what joy meant, looking at those kids. I crossed them everyday. The tracks rattled announcing the train’s arrivals. The stones wobbled, frightened. The engine’s screech could be heard from miles apart. That’s when they came out running. In torn clothes, runny noses, bruised knees, brightest of smiles and waved excitedly at us with their muddy hands. Their torn plastic house didn’t bother them. All it took for them to flash their precious smiles, was the nine coach train that passed their house everyday.