The Grand Punjabi Wedding
The Grand Punjabi Wedding Punjab (the land of five rivers) is the northern state of India known for its agricultural prowess and military might. Its culture and tradition are both magnanimous and grand. A glimpse into the Punjabi wedding introduces one to its rich heritage. A Punjabi wedding is not…
That Slacker in You
That Slacker in You Slacking is not generally lazing around. Yes, for some it is definitely deliberate but for the others it’s a direct consequence of imposition of a job contrary to their skill set. To put this in perspective, say, I hire George Clooney as an Accountant. He is…
The Apparition It was half past one and the eerie stillness of the moonless night made me uncomfortable as I walked down the deserted street towards my apartment. There was not a soul stirring. Suddenly, a faint sound of a woman sobbing trickled into my ears. I gathered pace in…
A Promise I’m tired. I’ve borne the wrath of that cranky archer whose quiver beams with darts of fire. My face is covered with earth, fingernails caked in dirt, throat’s parched and with fluttering heart I frantically seek thou, O dear Friend. Oh! There you are! All decked up in green - calm and mellow. Waiting for me with stretched arms and a platter full of plump mangoes. I drop at your feet. The warmth of your love envelopes me, and cools me down both in body and spirit.
The Indian Monsoon
The Indian Monsoon Pelting rain riddles the parched landscape with sheets of joy. Rippling waves pulse down lanes and swill over clogged drains. Raindrops host the sunbeams that escape from a gamut of clouds and dress them into motley magnificence. The beautiful girl leans over the parapet with outstretched arms and allows the soft driblets to smother her features. Surefooted children cavort in the puddles of muddy water. Butterflies hover over and register a peck on every flower. The verdant pasture is imbued with the ribbits of tipsy bullfrogs. Rainbirds sing in harmony with the joyless tunes of magpies, keeping time with the metronomic cackle of jackdaws. I commune with the quiescent mirth of the season slumped onto my wooden armchair on the porch. The world, enveloped in petrichor, is in perfect concord with itself.