I choose grace


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Spin It

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                                                                     Spin spin spin I spin my web.. Snip snip snip I snip every old thread.. You spin I spin that is all we do. I am hanging where you once hung, This patch is mine now, now I sew. You snipped my mesh one day and craft your own wall. I am a spinner and you are one No sins, we merely cushion our fall. Why shall I remain trapped in my world and you in yours. Let us spin a web together  and trap everyone in ours. Why not bring all under one roof neither yours, nor mine, ally. Under one sky, as the earth continues to spin Let us spin for everyone, a whole new sky.
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The place which I call Home

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Here far away from the place where I belong, where the I no longer stroll on streets laden with autumn leaves early in the mornings as I used to with my dearest friends, I welcome the leaves through the window of my room. The days when I never knew the meaning of longing or the value of simplicity, when the simplest of things and moments used to bring me great joy and contentment, are left far far behind. Amidst the arms of my home, my world, many a memories must be still lying covered by dust. But they remain as natural to me as breathing. Here as I sit and ponder over this I can hear my friends discussing about the serenity of the hills.Few years back I had been nestled in the Uttaranchal Himalayas but never realised it truly that I was blessed to have been brought up over there. Dont worry friends I am not going to act as a tourist guide over here. Just thought that I should share with you a few facts regarding the magnificience of the place where I have spent my entire life upti
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Abandoned: End of a beginning?

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Innumerable questions pound the walls of our mind. Words in our poem no longer rhyme. Why no one wants to take us home or considers us as their own? Why no one lends a loving hand and lets us suffer on the barren land? We seek neither a roof, nor a stack of grain  Merely the sunshine of care in the season of rain. As a desperate knock interrupts my thoughts, I roll down the glass to be greeted by imploring eyes of a poor child. My heart goes out to her but I cannot help wondering if she has chosen this path out of need or has been forced to do so. I hand her a penny and drive away as the signal turns green. We can reflect upon the condition of the underprivileged children clad in rags or pass our judgement about the misfortune but is that what we call a solution? Gaiety of the childhood has wandered off as the bereaved are left behind to search for remnants on the crowded streets. I had once come across a poor child who was hurrying off from one vehicle to t
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