le petit prince

go back home, my lovermix your tears with blood this world is not your home nor the people, your friends.

your eyes capture the sadness painting the frame-less heads beautifying their hollow souls these strangers you meet.

they don't care about you, or, the paintings you create only their selfish existence magnified to justify their evil doings.

this world is no place, oh lover your creased face, nimble hands the beauty of your soul the magnanimity of your doings.

run, run away while you can, to a place yonder, there, you will be king and the universe will be a mirage.

go back home, my little prince never step again on this planet where your sanity is deemed insane and your divinity, madness.


the winter is a fading memorythose icicles, little pink snowflakes vast barren white sheets of crystallized water fallow trees, desolate roads and the hope of a bright new tomorrow.

spring is a neoteric memory those blooms, little yellow budlings a limitless cover of vibgyor leaves bustling trees, satiated roads and the prospect of midsummer.

But, april come she will with her cruelties and ferocity arousing the inertia of the vicious circle that begins with her and ends in September, to go round in round the cornucopia of memories na jayate mriyate va kadacin. 


the possible worlds collided aforeconsummating supernova galaxies, millions of lightyears away and thus, we were born, an insignificant affair.

the blue sphere hung on a silent, invisible thread hanging precariously holding us precious life forms a significant affair.

beneath the atmosphere days and months rolled on effortlessly, striking the destiny time's illusory prowess a reiterative affair.

on the terra firma huge habitations mounted gazing above at the firmament oblivious to the passing epoch an egotistic affair.

underneath the euphoric plethora of water swam fledgling and sea horses a cold, dark reality this courtroom where everyone is equal a primal affair.

at the deepest core resides a revelation, all these levels primordial are congruous faces of the vast macrocosm a stellar affair.

the ocean resonates with music the ground with love the firmament with beauty and, the universe with expansiveness the eudaimonia affair.


i. packs are jumbledodds levelled. in this mighty ocean, a small grain of dust meets another small grain and there is thunderstorm.

ii. along the pathless wood a lone traveler once met another lone traveler they touched each other's hearts and flowers bloomed.

the ant

in the daylight, I sawa red ant tugging at a leaf. it seemed to me, the most absurd thing I ever saw, I laughed aloud.

I shook the sapling in vain pretense of my superiority devil's ego played ditties to show the tiny creature, my enormity.

the ant still continued to tug diligently with earnest persistence as if, it could accomplish the gargantuan task it had set itself.

I pondered awhile. did this act of absurdity remind me of something? ah! my mind stuck a note.

the ant was synonymous to humans who go on hoarding, accumulating, trying for things we can never achieve nor which we ever need.

in that absurdity, everything seems real like the characters in a storybook going on with their vague roles thinking, all's well that ends well.

illusioned minds, laughing at the disillusioned mocking hearts gaping at the hollows, the deep trenches of mire inside the hearts amalgamated down the centuries.

tug on for what will never be yours, surrender to the games of the mind, stay alive and remain bereft of life, remain like the ant I saw in daylight.


of abundance they were sure,the city dwellers: the extending metaphors of sentience how well they implied, the plethora of this firmament. when in a corner of the street, sat an homeless man with his feet in a cardboard box to protect himself from the harsh elements, they strutted along peripatetically oblivious to his existence, peering queerly into their hand holding the device to unlock the key to the cosmos.

the man sits still noticing all the hurry-burry, the human drama unfolding right in front of his eyes, no tickets needed, this is a free show.

imminent is the reverse, when the plentiful horn empties its contents slowly disintegrating until there is nihil. the homeless man still sits still onlooking the drama, smiling, for his cornucopia is forever bounteous and satiated.

Roads left behind

how often have I passed these roads?sundry and vague with places worn, of profession, culture, and new superstitions walked on by men and women in high expectation.

unwilling my legs divert these roads as some camper would trespass a strange abode, for succeeding in reaching the destination is rare I might find myself soon before, in a lion's lair.

to pass by these roads in sweet hesitation willing off the strong desire to see in trepidation unknown faces, names of mysterious strangers like wading off a penchant for lurking danger.

something pulls me away as I alight a force primordial causing my heart to ignite unable to move in the paradox of questions stuck in a maze of patterns and bastions.

therefore do I pass these multifarious roads, labelling them as destinies of wearied souls. and I, in my pride pass them by little knowing the precious treasures I leave behind.

nothing new under the sun

the day is quietthe sun bright

I sit in my dissolving room in the accompaniment of the ever whirring fan.

my thoughts surmount from the depths of my inner being I shake them out through cobwebs and dirt accumulated the past couple of years, for fear of standing out and hackling over wanton pleasure, by following the rat race.

this marvelous globe surviving the onset of generations souls ignorant walking the luminous face of scarred earth, through bountiful nature sowing seeds to reap the future.

year after year, the practice continues hand in hand with progress, to climb up the rungs of the great evolution ladder, centuries pass, technologies advance, yet, man remains eternally the same.

the greed, the jealously, self-righteousness, ego, pride, prejudice, brewed for centuries now come in new packages like old wine in a new bottle. time- the illusion drawing into itself a circle of misery, all of us, writhe in pain inside, sins transcend generations.

habits pass on characterized by repetition, oxymorons and the birth of halflings. on the verge of birthing again the earth begins its revenge and as the dinosaurs who disappeared into extinction, we, the humans, shall once succumb to the deadly doings of our own consciousness.

and then no more, we shall be, extinct humanity, gone down the drain.

men, women, children, reduced to ashes, only these particles in dust survive, and as the Old Testament reiterates: "There is nothing new under the sun."

Institution of religion

I was born a hindu, or so they sayAnother addition to the majority My caste gave me power, and my religion, authority. Saffron was the color of my heart. I was taught to pray with my hands folded And eyes shut. I had to chant mantras, which had the names of my uncles Narayana, narayana and Om namah Shivaya.

Temple is the house of god, my grandmother said, But, I couldn't see god anywhere. All I could see was a stone idol, dressed up like a doll. The image smiled at me, and I prayed fervently, "Where is god, is he hiding?, or, is he a 'she'? Does god have a gender?"

Pujas were performed to please the deity, Prasad was given after, chandan and kumkum, with appam, plaintain and flowers. sweet smelling sandalwood evoked a motion picture of images that trailed my eyes and arose a sense of imagination. red blood color the kumkum tortured me with pain and thoughts of suffering. both intermingled to give solace on my forehead.

As my eyes darted left and right, I saw old men seated on a stage talking about worldly matters. before me, there were women middle-aged, some old, others young. it doesn't matter what age, women at any can still gossip. and I thought only devout worshipers came to the temple. All the men and women were guests, at the temple of God. Come, let's have a cup of tea, chat and then go back to your illusioned world.

Ruthless traditions, robbing us of our individuality, binding us to society like poison to the body. religion is like an iron chain that rusts, chortles my throat, neither can I spit, nor swallow. Like a shot of morphine, that brings delirium, the disorder, that gives birth to violence.

Burn all these faiths, the cross, the star, and the idols what for is this faith, that hides you from the truth. God is not a religion, s/he is a be-ing, you and me, break away all ties, and raise your hands and say yet,

"Yes, I have a  religion, the religion of mankind."

aham brahmasmi


JM5‏ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו, מלך העולם...Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam...

her eyes speak the silence of how they left a long time ago with wealth abundant clothes, books, and a pinch of mud. the shelves lay bare lifeless and open waiting to be filled, no one brings anything. the walls yellowed, mouldy and cracked smells of unwanted longing. unkempt belongings, lie hither thither no order prevails, none exist. outside, the world moves tourists come, peers inside her home, the ruins. they look through the looking glass amused at the kippah and mitzvot seeing the remains of the day. seconds become hours, when there is no one coming her frailness is the culture's doom, her silence is the mischpacha's death.


great ball of fire hidesin the dusky clouds of june the earth robbed of its gentle share of warmth and sunshine.

the rain comes down like a warlord unleashing his terror upon a meek empire submissive to the dark power.

canals overflow like hearts brimming with love, forming seas of water in the puddled roads through which sail tiny boats of hope.

trees sway and bow down to reverent earth below rather that the father above who send them droplets of nectar.

a joyous feeling 'tis for me underneath my umbrella, to stand cold and numb while the sky cries out all its miseries to replenish itself for a new year ahead.


you my eternal sadnessdissolving me to tears flowing down the parched skin reaching the earth below, my mother.

you my eternal pain tearing apart this hub containing bitter, sweet memories of me and you not with me.

you my eternal loneliness robbing me of myself living as if dead, existing rather than being.

you my eternal suffering vexing my mind moving me to insanity, divine madness that conquers all.

you my eternal longing the animal desire pulsating through my veins agonizing the self with torturing ecstasy.

you my eternal loss dreams packed in bundles laid at your feet trampled and stampeded upon.

you my eternal anger fighting over trivial matters agitating and shouting as if i were deaf and dumb.

you my eternal being omnipresent, omniscient present in everyone and me. embodiment of love, conqueror of emotions sadness, pain, loneliness, suffering, longing, loss, anger, merge into you the complete whole center of the universe, the creator, the preserver, the destroyer. you have made me complete and endless. the same you has made me, incomplete and nothing.


Ruminations on the road

road stretched far and wideacross the open spaces connecting different cultures like a bridge, dusty and tarred like the cover of a book unused taking people on journeys to unknown destinations. approach nearer, horizon moves further on an endless stream as the human mind with the occasional bumps, downs and heights.

life thrived on both the sides unconcerned about this path of gravel and sand highway maybe, much rather way to heaven or hell. men went on their trivial existence women regarded as the lamp of the house, patronized birth, marriage, and death. an urchin hurried home, on a cycle eager to reach before the outpourings of mother earth from up above. lovers on a bike couldn’t make it stranded, they were left to drench away all the lies and guilt that comes free with the package of love.

rain has stopped awhile the atmosphere is now calm, serene, quiet. sky looks like a palette of colours spread unevenly with an added tinge of mystery. clouds brim with the reactions of the creator to the doings of mankind yet afraid to pour its heart out like the fear of a child in confiding a secret, to a friend who might turn a traitor.

‘tis a sight wonderful, not to the five senses but to others unexplained, the pristine beauty of nature unraveled to the human eye in all its glorious nakedness volumes of paddy fields flanked by mountains, the color of sapphire, palm fronds with limbs raised upwards in a prayer begging for just what’s necessary, nothing more, flocks of crane in deep conversation with bulls, human figures with spine bent, scattered to remove the worthy from the many.

nature is pregnant with meanings it is not clear as the pure oyster in the seashell but beautifully cloaked like an invisible stranger who reveals identity only when needed. it even gives meaning to the absurdities of life, the masks people wear, their hollow empty hearts and terminal voids in their lives.

cars overtake cars in a mad race, speed thrills but kills. slacken speed to crawl like an earthworm to gaze upon beauteous forms erected on the ground beneath our feet. precious time is not to be wasted on mechanical life ‘tis a vicious circle, routine, habit, addiction leading man to a life fruitfully wasted. breathe, feel life at its best the intoxicating smell of mud, after the first shower of rain the wafts of beauty laughing loudly. listen for the ditties played by rivulets and bamboo trees, amorous chirpings of birds gliding in the sweet scented air. behold colours of emotion not found in any painting or colour box, the true essence of living expressed in its heights. surroundings echo the cries of freedom, spread out wings and fly high, low through the balloon clouds maybe even to the doors of heaven. abandon yourself at will, redeem thy sins get purified by a dip in the Ganges. world suddenly will seem magical, fresh, new reborn again quirking with innocence, love, hope.

millions arrive at destinations everyday crossing horizons across the road. not real destinations as they seem but masqueraded beauties fooling even the sagacious human brain, that believes what it sees and sees what it believes.

roads are for journeys, not for destinations. but destiny may take pity on you and provide you a glimpse of such a journey which elevates you to destinations otherwise unattainable.

56 hours in SoCal

So my husband unexpectedly got a holiday from his workaholic boss for a long weekend and since this was the first holiday he is getting in 1.5 years, we decided to make full use of it by making a quick weekend getaway away from Los Angeles. As we only had limited time and did not want to spend most of it on the road, we decided to head to Santa Barbara and the quaint Danish town of Solvang.

2012-12-24 12.48.09

The day dawned bright and sunny. Our destination was 1.45 hours away and we left around 10. The drive was scenic, along the PCH. The ocean glistened under the summer sun, a Pacific Blue. We listened to the Doors and the Beach Boys. It was a beautiful day to spend outside.


Our first pitstop was Sambo’s on the beach (216 W. Cabrillo Blvd Santa Barbara CA 93101) around 12.30 p.m. Located on the beach Sambo’s serves breakfast all day long, making it an ideal place for brunch. My husband and I are vegetarians and this place serves burgers and fries making it an ideal place for us to find something to eat, moreover he loves places overlooking the ocean. We downed the food with their jumbo mimosas which Sambo’s is famous for. Sambo’s is located on the East beach and we walked around a bit before heading to Solvang.

We decided to stay in Solvang away from the crowd and the noise. Also, my husband had been yearning to be out in the nature for a very long time and Meadowlark Inn looked just the right place. It was a couple of miles away from Solvang. After checking in, we decided to head over to Lake Cachuma (California 154 Santa Barbara, CA). Dinner was going to be light since most places are breakfast & brunch kind of places in Solvang. We decided to play it by the ear and explore the Solvang downtown in order to find a decent place to get a bite.


We started the next day early by going to the famous Paula’s Pancakes (1531 Mission Drive Solvang, CA 93463) for breakfast. On weekends, Paula’s is crowded and the wait extends to 45 minutes. On a Friday morning we got lucky and found a place to sit quite easily. Paula’s is known for it’s Danish waffles and pancakes. paulas-pancake

After gorging and walking around a bit so as to avoid feeling bloated, we headed out to the Blackjack Ranch and winery (2205 Alamo Pintado Road Solvang, CA 93463) a winery made famous by Jack and Miles of the 2004 Fox pictures movie ‘Sideways’. The wine tasting room here opens from 11.00-4.30 p.m. We followed this by another round of wine tasting at Beckman Vineyards (2670 Ontiveros Los Olivos, CA 93441).


After the eventful morning at the wineries we set out to Santa Barbara to have a late lunch at Alchemy Arts Café (35 West Haley Street Santa Barbara, CA 93101). The Arts café is part of the Alchemy Arts center and it is known for it’s wholesome and healthy meals. After the late lunch, we decided to have some secluded beach time at the butterfly beach near Montecito at a far corner of East beach.


After the secluded beach time, we decided to try our hand at some Poker at the Chumash casino (3400 East Highway 246 Santa Ynez, CA 93460). Both of us are huge Texas Hold’em fans and we didn’t mind trying our hand at a poker game. It was like finding Vegas in the Santa Ynez valley!


The next day, we set out back to LA. Our first stop was the Nojoqui Falls (3200 south alisal road, Solvang, California). The nature trail leading upto the Falls is beautiful and very green.



On our way back, we did the weekend ritual of stopping by at Dukes, Malibu for brunch before reaching West Hollywood, aka home.


Tremors in Pain

Toppling over my mindIn the ocean of grief Contemplating the words Of agony and ecstasy. Consolidated phrases Writhes my skin Shrivels up my soul Into dungeons dark. Sweetness thy know not Looming clouds above Huddled into a corner Folded into one. Trepid feelings mount Taking a toll Of the hub Plunging it to trance. Comprehend the minuteness Of mind gone astray Suffering turmoil in the midst Of unfathomable ardor.

On public transportation

I boarded the bus, not conscious of the milieu inside. I tapped the metro pass and found a place to stand at the far back corner. I tried reading ‘Love and Garbage’; it was too crowded to concentrate. I closed the book, held its soul in my hand for a while and put it back into my bag. Random thoughts flooded in, my concerns about apartment hunting, conferences, cats, money, bills, and home. Then it dawned, everybody around me would be thinking of comparable things. What is the probability that there is at least one other person in the bus who is thinking of the same thing as me right now, wondering what everyone else is thinking about! 

For many people, the fact that I commute in Los Angeles using public transportation is unfathomable. An American colleague of mine who has lived in LA for a good six years asked me quite innocently the other day, "how much are the bus tickets now, $2.50 or $3", without having any clue about it as she has never boarded a bus or a train in LA. Angelenos are very comfortable in their cars, oh, and the number of cars increase by the minute. Households have three to four cars on average (read: a car per head). But really, let's pause for a second and ask ourselves, what is the big humbug about "driving"?

I got a driving license in India when I was 18. I could draw an H without toppling over a single beam, and all this on the first attempt of trying to clear the driving test. I managed to drive in India without ever killing anybody or running over a cow. After having moved to America, 4 years ago, I just haven't felt the need to get a license. Why? Obvious reason, a car is extra expense. Very often you hear people equating car with convenience, not often with expense, right? Let me explain. 

A bus/train ride in LA costs me $1.50. Unlike India, public transportation here works on a flat rate basis. I can board the bus at the first stop and get off at the last stop, or get off at the very next stop all for the same price. On the contrary, getting a car is expensive, not to mention the hassle of "finding" a decent car. Gas is expensive, and most of all, insurance is expensive. Now that I've harped enough about expenses, let me talk about the pros of public transportation. 

Rewind back to the first paragraph. That was written in a bus two years ago, on the note app that iphone has. Now, can you do imagine doing something like that while driving? Disastrous, right? Public transportation allows you to let your mind wander. As a writer, I like this. I can afford to think up ideas, ruminate on thoughts, meditate. I don't have to worry about the traffic signal, whether someone is going to hit me while I'm trying to make a left turn, or, not look at my phone's note taking app simply because I need to concentrate on the road. 

Public transportation also lets you observe. You meet weird, strange, interesting people on the bus/train. I've had people come up and talk to me. You strike exciting conversations. You talk about culture, about issues, or something as trivial as the weather. It is a shared public space where everybody is equal. There are no watertight distinctions on a bus. You are who you are, and so is everyone else. Imagine, on the contrary, sitting in a car solitary, dreaming that you are the emperor of your own self created universe. Any more ego boost needed, people? There is no time to let your mind aloof (of course unless you are sitting in traffic on the US 101), nobody to observe, no shared experience. Just solitude. 

Today, while taking the bus back from work, I met a disabled guy. He was on crutches and he only had one leg. He was waiting for the bus with me at the bus stop. This above all, public transportation, lets you realize nothing is impossible. It bridges boundaries, connects people from all walks of life. I meet chefs, restaurant workers, servers, plumbers, accountants, professors, doctors, nurses, students, homeless people, all under one roof. We travel together for that brief moment, in complete anonymity, as one whole being. This experience liberates oneself, in a way driving to work in your own car cannot. I love public transportation, not just in LA, in any other foreign country that I travel to. You can feel the soul and pulse of the city in its public transportation, not in its millions of solitary drivers.