Tuesday, 21 March 2017
Friday, 17 March 2017
The "lit up" skyline.
A picture is worth a thousand words.
It seemed as if the nature's brush had gone wild mixing colours of dusk with just a hint of control.
The sky turned blue, grey, pink, purple about to engulf everything in darkness, when the lights "lit up" and the brush stopped!
It paused, amazed at the glitter, the light, the milky whiteness, the shimmering colours, the deep blue of water.
Witnessing merger of God's masterpiece with man's own. Who knew it was possible to paint them together?
They lit up the city, spilled colours in the river. Lights twinkled as if gems were floating in the water.
The dark pier seemed taken aback with the surge of gold in the river, falling like melted wax from the lamp posts.
The skyscrapers punctured the dark sky with their raised needles, pushing the blanket of darkness away.
They were the guiding lights for the night, the bejewelled crowns that command respect. The magical torches refusing to douse before sunrise.
Finally the brush abandoned the colours of dusk and began preparing the pallette for twilight and dawn of another day.
Photo Credits Go To Shaishav Agarwal
It seemed as if the nature's brush had gone wild mixing colours of dusk with just a hint of control.
The sky turned blue, grey, pink, purple about to engulf everything in darkness, when the lights "lit up" and the brush stopped!
It paused, amazed at the glitter, the light, the milky whiteness, the shimmering colours, the deep blue of water.
Witnessing merger of God's masterpiece with man's own. Who knew it was possible to paint them together?
They lit up the city, spilled colours in the river. Lights twinkled as if gems were floating in the water.
The dark pier seemed taken aback with the surge of gold in the river, falling like melted wax from the lamp posts.
The skyscrapers punctured the dark sky with their raised needles, pushing the blanket of darkness away.
They were the guiding lights for the night, the bejewelled crowns that command respect. The magical torches refusing to douse before sunrise.
Finally the brush abandoned the colours of dusk and began preparing the pallette for twilight and dawn of another day.
Photo Credits Go To Shaishav Agarwal
Tuesday, 7 March 2017
Valleys
Impulsiveness is an important and key ingredient in a relationship. No matter how considerate, careful, truthful or honest one is in maintaining it, the slightest of impulsive reactions can sometimes prove fatal.
Unintentionally people dig valleys between themselves and their relationships with the tiniest of things. Valleys so wide that no bridge of reconciliation could ever attempt to bring them closer.
It can happen with a single word, a little hesitation, a pause, a reply given too quickly, silence, an action, a name, a smirk, a frown, raising of an eyebrow, a sigh!
It's like a drop of water in a pond but so huge is its impact that the pond runs dry at the very addition of that single drop.
Unintentionally people dig valleys between themselves and their relationships with the tiniest of things. Valleys so wide that no bridge of reconciliation could ever attempt to bring them closer.
It can happen with a single word, a little hesitation, a pause, a reply given too quickly, silence, an action, a name, a smirk, a frown, raising of an eyebrow, a sigh!
It's like a drop of water in a pond but so huge is its impact that the pond runs dry at the very addition of that single drop.
Thursday, 23 February 2017
Inconsequential Actions
Someone stole my pomegranate flowers.
I had been counting days, one day at a time, for the tree to be blessed with flowers. That day arrived when the buds appeared on the branches as tiny orange teardrops. Slowly growing bigger and opening up like little butterflies with delicate wings. But the tree discarded them.They were not strong enough to turn into fruits.
The wait began again, a few months' time, slowly, one day at a time, weeks , months and the orange beads of joy appeared again. This time higher in number.They opened their wings again and yet again the tree discarded them.
The whole year had gone by, never ever had this tree been bare for so long. Miracles of the nature took charge, seasons changed and the tree was once again ready for blooming. Finally three flowers held tight to the stems, the stems bowing gently in their honour, supporting the growing weight. My spirits soared high, the wait was over. The flowers started swelling up like a pregnant belly, the delicate petals were starting to be engulfed and protected by a hard shell, half flower half fruit. I was going to be a proud caretaker.
It was a beautiful morning, I went to water the plants and there it was! A bare tree, as if it had suffered a miscarriage. I looked for the flowers on the ground as they never fall far from it, but they were nowhere to be found, it seems someone had plucked them.
How inconsequential the act must have been for that person? Just a fancy for orange flowers!
The same thing is true in life too, someone's hard-work, life's achievements, joys, pain rendered inconsequential in seconds by the inconsiderate action of another person.
I had been counting days, one day at a time, for the tree to be blessed with flowers. That day arrived when the buds appeared on the branches as tiny orange teardrops. Slowly growing bigger and opening up like little butterflies with delicate wings. But the tree discarded them.They were not strong enough to turn into fruits.
The wait began again, a few months' time, slowly, one day at a time, weeks , months and the orange beads of joy appeared again. This time higher in number.They opened their wings again and yet again the tree discarded them.
The whole year had gone by, never ever had this tree been bare for so long. Miracles of the nature took charge, seasons changed and the tree was once again ready for blooming. Finally three flowers held tight to the stems, the stems bowing gently in their honour, supporting the growing weight. My spirits soared high, the wait was over. The flowers started swelling up like a pregnant belly, the delicate petals were starting to be engulfed and protected by a hard shell, half flower half fruit. I was going to be a proud caretaker.
It was a beautiful morning, I went to water the plants and there it was! A bare tree, as if it had suffered a miscarriage. I looked for the flowers on the ground as they never fall far from it, but they were nowhere to be found, it seems someone had plucked them.
How inconsequential the act must have been for that person? Just a fancy for orange flowers!
The same thing is true in life too, someone's hard-work, life's achievements, joys, pain rendered inconsequential in seconds by the inconsiderate action of another person.
Tuesday, 7 February 2017
Sunday, 5 February 2017
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