I am one of you

I may be socially impaired
I may not  respond to you
I may not even smile back at you
But I am still one of you

I may not look the same like you

I may think and act differently

I may be lost in my own world

But I am still one of you

I may show unusual gestures
I may have different vocal patterns
You may call me language impaired
But I am still one of you

I may behave abruptly
I may injure myself sometimes
I may act a little insistent
But I am still one of you

I may not be able to concentrate

I may lack interest in things you like

I may typecast behavior frequently

But I am still one of you

I may not become as big as dad
or I may not make my way out
I may even die trying to get up
But I am still one of you

This may be a lifeless life
A flightless existence you may call it
A little attention is all I need
and then I can be one of you...!

Can't we do our bit to help people dealing with autism? Cant we help them finding their ways out?
Help them figure out their wings. They surely will fly!

Blah

I feel

unimaginative

Exhausted

Hitch in the brain

and exploited.

 

creativity’s sayonara

credibly steered to

some other 

locale

I  feel corny

fatigued

destitute of

any good ideas

or sensibilities

no self-contemplation

or extroversion

I feel groggy

while my body is active

my head put

to rest

calms itself into

a dream-like state

I feel uninspired

old hat

fatigued (did I say that again?)

draggy

No more

 excited

by anything around

I feel numb

bland

and bored

I feel dispirited

I’m just feeling

blah.

 

I had a home...

Once

I had a home

just like you…

a spouse

kids

and a family

 to care for.

Once

I had a home

where we celebrated

birthdays

anniversaries

dinners

and Diwali.

Once

I had a home

that kept us

from Nature

A space

we called our own.

Once

I had a home

Not only the walls

but an adoring

fostering space.

Once

I had a home

and I had

my stories to share

a life to look

forward to.

Once

I had a home 

just like yours…

There are millions of people who were like you and me at some point of their lives, forced onto the streets because of poverty, mental disorders, lack of employment opportunities, war, and lack of affordable housing. These were people with regular lives, a name, a family, an identity. Now they just roam about the streets with no name and identity  with a bag full of memories.

Imperfect Me

I love

procrastinating things

even if they are

a piece of cake

And I can argue

until the moon

goes to bed.

I hate doing

laundry

and I am

never interested in

keeping

my things organized.

I am judgmental

and opinionated

and you've seen

me being a

back seat driver

sometimes.

I love my own

privacy

and want you

too to enjoy that.

I am ambitious

and have a strong

sense of dignity.

I may not

be lady-like

in poses

and idiosyncrasies.

I nag at times

And love to complain.

I am obsessed

with planning

and usually have

alternate plans

ready

in case

some plan fails.

I am sometimes

egoistic

and clingy

at the

same time.

I hate

losing my games

and may not mind

cheating.

I am not patient

or wise

and I may play

a loser sometimes.

I keep grudges

and it's always tough

for me

to let it go

even when I know

I should.

I am strongly opinionated

and will not

like being treated

with the perks

that comes with

"being a woman."

I am always

confused

about where

I want to be

and what

I want to do.

I lie at times

When I think it's a

fair thing

and also sometimes

because it gets "easier".

I give justification

 for small things

where it doesn't call for

but still I have the

urge to.

I acknowledge

my "flaws"

and know that

perfection is

a misconception

a mirage

a unrealizable

paragon.

It doesn't mean

I don't try to

be a better person,

more liberal

less critical

more welcoming

less malign.

I never said

that I wont try

to improve

upon my shortcomings.

All it means

is agnizing

that perfection

isn't the criterion

by which

we judge

ourselves or

others.

I may not be perfect.

But my flaws

make me the

unparalleled person

I am.

They make me

real me

and not the one

I want to be

I am not perfect.

Are you?

Life's Beauty Revealed

A wood pecker on a tree;

A spider’s web; a humming bee;

Flocks of birds surging high;

How the seasons say good-bye;

The rising sun in the east,

How eagle snaffles its feast;

The full moon when slowly wanes,

The smell of the earth when it rains;

Stars that shine all through the dark ;

Snails crawling around in a park ;

A kitty’s whir; a sparrow’s chirp;

Ever heard the mice slurp?

Butterflies wooing the flowers;

Cows jawing the wad for hours;

The whickering of a grazing horse;

Walls covered by a carpet of moss;

An ant stocking a grain of wheat,

Droplets sparkling like little beads;

Water that makes its own course;

A rabbit jerking its pink nose;

Wind blowing away the pollen;

Ever noticed the rabbit warren?

Man walks on the road of strife,

For him, work is life!

But stay for a moment to look around

the treasure of beauty… Oh! See around!

And you’ll cherish these moments for a long time,

These gifts of nature are the prime.

The work may be devastatingly absorbing,

But, these are the things that make our lives worth living!

My perspective

Although it may seem, a lot of times, that there is nothing new to add to something,  I think each of us bring a new perspective, new persuasion, new theme from a unique viewpoint.

I’ve wondered many times why anyone would want to read what I have to say – after all, it’s all been catalogued before by someone more learned, someone who’s proficient on the topic or has researched similar topic in depth, someone who has more wisdom and experience. And all this “better” content is reachable to anyone who wants to Google it.

So, why then, do readers visit this blog? Why do I spend my time and energy writing whatever comes to my mind? And I have reached the conclusion that it’s because I have something meaningful to add. Maybe the central idea has already been presented before, but I bring in my unique perspective.

The person I am today is a sum total of my experiences and that started from my birth itself. If I wasn’t born to middle-class parents; if I wasn’t their pampered child; if they hadn’t sent me to one of the best schools in the city; if I wasn’t encouraged and supported to believe in myself – the scenarios are endless. Every step of this way, I have had experiences, got opportunities, formed relationships that helped me evolve as an individual and shape a certain vantage point. That is what I share with you.

I, therefore, have something to add to what has already been said.

My own words “matter” because they’re pertinent, they present a different take that is mine, and a lot of “average” people can relate with them.
These aren’t just echoes in a shriveling chamber — this is my original voice in a fast-expanding, interconnected, heterogeneous online world.
I have a story to tell that no one, other than me, can tell.

Longing for tomorrow....!

An entire day passed by
in a windstorm of activity.
Projects, phone calls, e-mails,
conversations and IMs.
Non-stop exchange of information.
Reactions. Joyfulness. Emotions.
Call for a pause button deepens .
No respite from the craziness.

As I splatter my face with water
I close my eyes and let my mind wander.
The chirping sparrow reappears.
And flocks of bird surge high

As I scrub my face,
It brushes of the tiredness.
The assignments. The deadlines. The pressure.
Into the passage they sink.
Disappearing like rings of smoke..

I then look at myself.
A streak of red
Brightening the tired kohl eyes.
A tingling smile.
That Today is over.
Tomorrow will be another day.

Return

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

I love spending a lot of time with toddlers because it allows me to experience unabridged, unsophisticated, unrestrained joy. Their playful eyes and their creaks of glee reminds me of all I have lost in my journey.

They are right at the precipice of knowing things — the kind that we can understand — but despite their verbal “handicap”, they’re pretty good at communicating. They go around in circles when they are happy, cry when in pain or when they seek attention or to get things their way and squeal when in surprise.

They live for the moment.

It’s almost like attending a free therapy when I’m with these kids. They know how to live their life king size. And they offer their “wisdom” to anyone willing to share. 

Raising them is no easy task. It’s difficult to gaze in admiration when you’re cleaning poop. But as an outsider, I am thankful. They teach me to have an open mind that anything is possible to be free; to ask question; to get amazed at the simplest of the things; and most importantly, to be me.

They help me peel away the layers of worldliness, knowledge, and debonair and enjoy the rawness of the human spirit.

To experience happiness in its purest form.

To feel filled within.

I’ll probably feel a speck of sadness when these children grow up with time, but for now I shall  make the most of their wonder years and enjoy my return to the age of innocence.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.