The Time Travelers

Julie worked in an office. She was the secretary to the CEO of a trading firm. When business was slow, she used to gaze at a beautiful landscape painting of South Africa that hung on the wall facing her desk. It showed long green stretches of land with peculiar ring like formations and undulating terraces. Sometimes, clusters of the rings were laid out in a floral pattern and the paths leading from them seemed to be like stems connecting the flowers to each other from an arial perspective. There was a little ancient ruin there made of flat rocks that was supposed to ring with a metallic clang when you hit them. Her boss, Michael Dutta, referred to the ringing rocks as ring stone.

Michael Dutta liked to travel. When he went to Johannesburg, he visited a friend who lived a little out of the town. Michael was fascinated by the landscape around Johannesburg. He brought back photographs and paintings made by a local artist  and hung them in his office. He also got back two pieces of ring stone that he picked up while walking on the rolling green with his friend. If you struck them together, they rang like a bell. They were shaped like cones and were very brittle. Julie, like her boss, found the rocks and landscape fascinating…only she, unlike him, had not been there.

Julie was so fascinated by the stones, pictures and stories her boss related that she started googling about South Africa. She found out more about the properties of the stone and about the strange formations. It was given out by some that the ring like formations on the ground had some kind of an anomaly about them. They had temperatures that were really high inside the rings. If the ground temperature was five degrees celsius, inside the ring the temperature was twenty-nine to over eighty degrees celsius. The Global Positioning Systems(GPS)ceased to operate inside them. There were explorers who proposed that these rings were associated with ancient extra-terrestrial activities.

Julie was very interested. She started googling theories about these anomalies. It seems the anomalies were really ancient and had to do with the origins of mankind. Africa was supposed to be the cradle of mankind. People had even propounded that the Garden of Eden was located in Africa and mankind was a cloned and smaller version of giants from outer space! Julie believed it all and spent a lot of her spare time trying to figure out the how, when and why of human origin. Looking at the photos in the office reminded her of her passion and made her happy. Her dream was to visit these places in South Africa.

One evening, Julie and Michael were working late. They could not get the pizza delivery line as it kept coming busy. Michael suggested that he would go out and buy them a take-away dinner while Julie continued with her work. Julie felt hungry and tired and leaned back on her chair. Her eyes fluttered and closed. When her eyes opened she found herself sprawling in the middle of the South African plains. In front of her was a huge giant of a man. He wore gold robes almost of a metallic sheen, just like in the internet pictures. He was more than double of her in height. He looked at her with curiosity just as she looked at him with some fear and surprise!

The large man had a booming voice. “So, you are the future of mankind. Not bad. How did you get back here? Do you have a time machine too or did Argos pick you up as a curio from his travels across time?”

Julie summoned all her courage and replied, “I don’t know. I was working in office. Who are you and where am I?”

“I am from the planet of Niburu. We are looking for the metal here. What is your language ?”

“Why? You speak it too. English.”

“English? Is that what you call it? I am wearing a translator that translates any language into my own language and mine into your language automatically. I speak standard buru. That is what all of us speak at Niburu.”

“Where am I? And how did I get here?” asked Julie.

“Let me ask Argos,” said the giant. “I am Sorgos. What is your name?”

“My name is Julie. And where am I exactly?”

“We call it sector 2, Earth. Does that help?”

“No. Not much. But this does look like the plains of South Africa as in the painting in my office. Only you have buildings here…”

“Oh! These buildings are temporary structures and we will fold them up when we are done,”explained the alien.

Sorgos started out in search of Argos. But before that, he picked up Julie in his arms and draped her across his shoulders.  Julie was really scared now. What would the giant alien do with her? She felt very vulnerable.

“Put me down. Put me down,” shouted Julie.

“No. You are safer with me. I will take you to Argos to figure out what is going on. If the others find you, they will put you to work with the clones in the mines,”said Sorgos.

Julie could do nothing but comply. From her vantage point on Sorgos’ shoulder could see people like herself going in and out of a shaft. They were scantily clad and worked like labourers. They looked sordid.

“There are very few of us who feel for the rights of the clones here. I am a representative of the group that argues for the welfare of clones in Nibiru. But except for me and Argos, the rest hate the clones. They are planning to destroy them…but looking at you, I know some of you must have survived,” said Sorgos. “Let us talk to Argos first.”

“Wait! Who are the clones? I was born off my parents.”

“The clones are the mine workers…your ancestors. We have enabled the clones to have all the functions we have, except they are much smaller than us and a little less developed intellectually.”

“I cannot believe this is for real!” Julie thought. “How soon can I be out of this nightmare?”

“Ah! Here is Argos’ lab.”

They went into a building with a high, dome-shaped roof with gold and white panels and white walls. The white was plasticky and shiny. Inside the lab was a ring of ringstones. The ringstone ring had a machine stuck in it and a stair leading up to it.

The machine was huge, large enough to accommodate the giant aliens.

“Argos, Argos,” called out Sorgos. “Where are you? Come out of that infernal machine and answer my questions.”

“Coming, you impatient man!” A gigantic alien wearing golden overalls crawled out of the machine, descended the stairs and took off his helmet. “What is it? Why are you screaming.”

“I was not screaming. I just have a question for you. Did you get this clone over from the future?” Sorgos asked.

“So what if I did?” Argos said.

“You realise, it is unsafe to keep her here. They will take her away to work in the mines,” said Sorgos.

“Alright! Alright! Do not nag,” said Argos. “I got her back to check if she could breath and survive in the same air that existed in our times. I will take her back.”

No one asked Julie what she wanted. She was terrified with the huge size and booming voices of her captors. She was glad to do their bidding so that she could be back in the security of her office, far and away from the era of giants. She had wanted to visit these ruins in her own time. She had no intention of working for these giants. She liked her own life and times too much.

Argos blindfolded her and said they were putting her in the time machine. She felt herself being lifted and strapped in. Then she heard some strange, loud whirring noise and passed out…

Julie sat up with a start when she heard the door bang. Michael was back with McDonald burgers. The pizza shop had too much of a queue, he said.

“Why do you look so stunned?” he asked. “Did I startle you or did you just wake up? You look like you have seen an alien!”

By The Stream

Here are some figments of thought…


On pieces of paper, I write my dream
And throw them into an eddying stream.
The water twirls and twists and swallows up the wisps
And off they go on far off, distant trips
To the sands where tiny fishes do swim and play,
Where sunlight does not reach even on a bright day,
Where murmurs of melody come from mermaid lips,
And soothing notes a water nymph trills.
Will those honeyed tones ever ring
With words my heart did sing
And then to the waters fling?
Will they ever come back to me
In a faraway chant or melody?
Or, will they be forever lost
Far from all human thought?

Perhaps the waves will bear my dream
To another by the distant shores of the stream.
He may not know that I did sing
But still my happy notes will ring
And bring joy to the singer
And be the harbinger
Of eternal harmony.


My soul on bits of paper,
Floating down the river,
Catching glints of golden sunshine
Sparkling in the water.
I flit. I float . I toss
In the water
Catching the sparkles of sunlight
On my frayed ends
Almost becoming ethereal
In my golden intent
This is the glamour I get.
Glimmer, glamour, glimmer, glamour.
My soul on bits of paper,
This is the end.
This is the end.
This is the end.

Short story


Smita liked to walk to the lake and watch the water run in undulating heaps towards the shore in the wind and rain. She loved the sleety grey of the rain clouds and the water. Smita felt wild and free. She loved the way the rain slashed her bare face, hands and hair peeping out of the raincoat cap.The wind tore at her raincoat. It made her feel she could be swept off her feet at any point. And that is something she definitely would have welcomed…to be swept off her feet to a magical land where a genie out of a bottle would help right her problems.

And yet her heart didnot feel heavy. The elements soothed her though her issues were enormous. She had just lost her job and her hostel had served her notice. Her hostel fee was overdue. And she was desperately trying to figure out where to live and how to meet her expenses. Walking with the elements slashing at her always soothed her. Smita had her last salary in her bank. It was not much but still something. She could feel a crisp note in her pocket. Here was money willing to be spent. Smita walked into a cheap cafe that sold fast foods by the lake to think things over while getting a bite to eat. She ordered a burger and a can of diet coke. She asked them to leave the coke can at the table as she preferred opening it herself and having the coke fizzy.

As Smita bit into the burger and looked out at the rain beating the lake, she recalled the harsh words of her ex-boss,” If you cannot meet up to the needs of the paper, we cannot keep you. We told you, you need more punch in your stories. We are a tabloid and people read us for entertainment. How many times have I told you that if you cannot deliver stories that blast, you have to leave. And look at this…what have you got…a story about a man finding a wallet. You have the crime beat…I want stories about murders, violence….all the gory details. That is what people want… Not a wishy washy story about honesty!  You are not needed from tomorrow. You have no nose for news. You are fired as of now. Finito!”

She had walked out with her laptop. Her salary had been a pittance. She really wanted to be a writer.

Smita had run away from home when her middle class father tried to arrange a marriage for her with a rich, monied accountant. She felt unclean when they demanded a dowry. The boy was a wimp. When she said she was not willing to marry the accountant and she didnot want a dowry, her father was very angry. He said she was flouting authority and tradition and was not allowed to decide what she needed. She had to marry the boy he had chosen for her. She was banned from going out if she didnot agree to marry the suitor she thought of as the wimp. Effectively, her father had put her under house arrest.

One day, when everyone was out, Smita quietly left the house and boarded a train. She left a note telling her parents she was leaving as she wanted to be a great writer. She had enough money saved from her pocket money to buy a second class train ticket to a faraway place. Smita travelled a day and a night and started her new life as a journalist in a tabloid. She had some gold jewellery, an expensive watch all of which she sold to finance herself. She lived in a working women’s hostel, sharing a dormitory with half a dozen more women. Her salary was really a inadequate. The oily burger and diet coke were her dinner for the night but food didnot matter. What mattered was living out her dream.

Smita finished her burger and opened the coke can. There was a loud fizz and the coke spewed out and there was a lot of smoke which seemed to rise higher and higher till it took the form of a handsome young man in a white shirt and blue jeans. He wore a huge, gold, round ring in one ear and was very muscular. Smita was zapped. There was no one else in the shop. The man manning the counter seemed to have disappeared. Smita looked into the can…there still was some amount of coke left. She swallowed and asked the swaggering swain,” Who are you?”

” Oh! I am the genie of the diet coke can. I have come to help you. I believe you were wishing for a genie. You can have three wishes before I disappear with a fizz.”

Smita could not believe her eyes.

The genie continued,” I can fulfill three of your heart’s desires. You just need to verbalise.”

” Can you help me achieve my dream?” Smita asked.

” Just ask. Tell me what is it you most desire, o beautiful babe, and it will be done.”

” Never call me babe again. I want to be a famous writer. Can you help?”

The genie crossed his hands and said,” I will never call you babe again. Three times I will nod and it will be done. You have already asked for two…never to be called babe and that you want to be a famous writer. ”

He nodded three times and then said,” You are a famous writer step out and see. Now I wait for the third wish you have for me.”

” I want a lot of money so that I can live in comfort.”

He nodded three times again.” Check your bank balance and see. Now, it’s time for me to disappear. I will only return if you ardently pray for it. Come back here and have another diet coke and say ‘genie appear’ and I will be there.” Saying that, the strange apparition fizzed into thin air.

Smita looked around surprised. Time seemed to have fast forwarded by a few years. The calendar behind the counter of the cafe showed the same date but five years later. She was in a long skirt and wore a pearl bracelet and her hair seemed to have grown shorter. It was a different cut. The man behind the counter was by her table and bowing. He was saying,” It is an honour to have you here Ms Singh. Please treat the meal as complimentary. ” Smita smiled and walked out. It was bright and sunny but she felt a bit like an usurper! When she reached the reception of the hostel where she roomed, the woman at the reception smiled and said,” O! Ms Singh, it is such an honor to have you drop in.” Smita was zapped. So, where did she stay. The receptionist continued,” I will call your chauffeur for you. He is in the parking lot.” She ran off.

Smita walked to the door. Her heart beat in anticipation of a bright future. A pink Mercedes drove up. A uniformed driver got out, smiled and opened the door for her. Smita walked in. ” Take me home,” she said. The car went into Pamposh, the most posh colony in town. It stopped inside a very high-end apartment complex. When Smita walked in, the liftman bowed to her and took her to the pent house on the top floor. He opened the lift door smiled and bowed her out. From the window of her apartment on the 75 th floor, Smita could see the city stretch out before her. She turned around and saw bookshelves from top to bottom. On an ornate book shelf in the middle of the room were books by Smita Singh…her own books. What were they about? She read some of one…didnot like it much… It was like the fiction she didnot enjoy…lot of fowl language, just a silly romance…She walked into her bedroom. It looked as if she shared it with a man! To her horror she discovered she was married. She just noticed the huge solitaire wedding ring on her finger.

Who was her husband?

And then she saw a picture on her bedside, the wimpy accountant…. Oh no! She had run away to arrive in a circuitous route back to her nightmare!

The doorbell rang. She opened the door.” Hello, honey,” said the wimp. She gave a faint smile and walked back. He came in and tried to kiss her. He was stinking of alcohol and very tipsy.

Smita wanted to throw up. She walked away saying,” I am not in the mood.”

” What mood?” said the wimp.” Always remember, it is my money that bought you your dream. No one wanted your writing. I had your books rewritten and published. I bought you your fame, name… everything …You owe me big time!” He slouched onto the sofa and fell into a drunken stupor saying,” Take off my shoes!”

As soon as Smita found he was fast asleep, she stepped out and called for her pink Mercedes. She asked the driver to take her back to the lakeside. She got off the car, walked rapidly to the cafe and asked for another diet coke. She shut her eyes tight and wished for the genie again and said, “Genie appear”. As she opened the coke can, the fizz and smoke again appeared and the genie asked her,” Why did you call within a few hours? I have given you three wishes and can do no more. At the most, I can only revoke your wishes.”

” I didnot want to marry this guy. I never asked for him.”

” He is a part of the package. You didnot specify leaving him out,” said the genie.

” I ran away from home not to marry this guy. He cannot be a part of my dream.”said Smita.

” You wanted me not to call you babe, be a famous writer and rich. I granted you all three desires. I am supposed to grant you wishes, not materialise your dreams. Dreams are different from desires,” said the genie. ” If you are really unhappy with the outcome of my actions, you need to ask me to revoke your wishes. If you do not want the husband in this reality, you can have your old future back. To get a brand new future, you need a fresh genie. I do not know when or where that will be. The choice is yours.”

Smita didnot hesitate for a minute.” Revoke my three wishes!”

The genie squared his arm, nodded his head three times and said,” All undone! Bye babe!” Then he disappeared with a fizz.

Smita was back in her old clothes, down at heel shoes and again had long hair which had become damp in the rain.The wet raincoat was by her side. It was still raining outside. The calendar showed time had receded back five years when her genie had appeared the first time and she was again a jobless, homeless dreamer. Her coke can was full and just opened. Smita felt more at peace.

Was it all for real or wasn’t it…

A stranger, who looked a bit like the genie but was less muscular and wore no earrings, ran into the cafe for shelter. He looked at her and smiled. Smita smiled back. She found him incredibly attractive and the smile made her heart lurch. He ordered a coffee at the counter, walked back towards Smita holding his steaming mug and said,”Quite a downpour, eh!?”


It is good to be back on one’s feet after a fall!


The forest turns aflame
With passion, anger and pain.
The flames leap up again and again,
Orange, yellow, gold,
Burning bright and bold,
All the living, they sear and tear
Till burnt out, the flames disappear.
The remains, black and charred,
For some time bar all life.
Then from deep within, begins the strife.
The rain falls in sheets,
Cooling the charred heap,
Till the ground again turns lush and green.
Again, the forest will rise.
Again, life will thrive.
Again, the birds will sing
And the rainbow ring
The sky and the forest.
A reflection in the lake.


It has all calmed down,
Calmed down to a steady green and brown.
The flaming yellow of the flowers
Now are brown bowers
Of dry pods.
The oriole still flits
Concealed among the leaves.
An occasional butterfly,
Yellow or white, floats by.
The river, still ripples with small lines
Reflecting the colors of the sky,
Blue, white and grey, tinged yellow with flitting sunshine.
Popcorn clouds
Build up in huge mounds.
And then a deluge starts.
Endless rain.
It pours in sheets.
Little can be seen
Beyond this translucent screen.

Life will restart after the flood.

Short Story

The Fortune Teller

Rhonda was dark, beautiful and svelte with a perfect hourglass figure. She had it all…health, wealth and vigour. She was a glamorous divorcee with a passion for gambling. Casinos were her undoing and the undoing of her brief, childless marriage. Her alimony was swallowed… She was falling into a debt … She had to think of a way to make quick money. She had taken loans from her coterie of friends, mortgaged her car and apartment but the casino kept guzzling all the money she poured in. Rhonda was at the end of her tether. Now banks and people expected her to return the loans. But the money never came back to her, so repayment was becoming a major issue. She didnot want to end up in a debtor’s prison.

Rhonda approached the casino owner, Mark, with the hope he would give her a job. After all she had poured all her money into his concern. On the contrary, Mark had nothing for her except harsh words. ” If you do not have enough money, you cannot play. I will be forced to throw you out.” Rhonda left disappointed. It was becoming difficult for her to continue among the jet set of the town. She still had a few friends among feminists who felt the men had been unjust to Rhonda and treated her badly because they considered women inferior.

One day Rhonda went to a charity fun fair organised by one of her wealthy feminist cronies. As she walked around desolately, she came across a stall marked, ” Madame Stella… The fortune teller”. Madam Stella would tell her client’s future against a small donation. Rhonda watched her. She would mumble something and touch a crystal ball which would become cloudy and then she would peer in it and in a hoarse voice, describe a brilliant future for all her customers. As the fair wound up, Rhonda discovered the ball was one of those rigged up gadgets that functioned with batteries and Madame Stella was no other than Minerva of the jet set gang.

This gave Rhonda an idea. She could be a fortune teller. People liked to have their futures foretold. But, who would be her clientele? The rich and the famous, the jet set gang. Rhonda had seen poor men read fortunes for a pittance in villages in India. She recalled the fortune teller, who charged Rs1,000 in a five star resort but said nothing concrete, and the village palm reader, who charged only Rs 2 in a little fair adjoining the five star resort, but gave a fairly accurate reading. A fortune teller from a village was what she needed to get started.

The only hitch was she needed capital. Where could she get capital? She had the answer immediately…from charity fairs/ events, like the one in which she had seen Minerva taking on the role of a fortune teller. She knew the women who raised funds and what they looked for. So, she launched out as a non-government organisation(NGO). She prepared her case that a neighbouring village needed money for development. They needed to start schools, dispensaries and welfare homes for abused women. The village she used was that of her housekeeper, Radha. It was not difficult. Radha, a well-respected member of her village community, helped her approach the village elders. From there, Rhonda got all the statistics and made a report.

Then, she went to her feminist friend who organised charities, Anita. ” I have come with a proposal,” Rhonda said.” In my housekeeper’s village, people are very poor. They need schools, dispensaries and a welfare organisation for abused women. I have a report here based on a study conducted by the panchayats. They need money. Perhaps, you can help me fund raise for them.”

Anita was ever ready to help the needy. Stories of poverty and deprivation, especially among women, brought tears to her eyes. From the next fund raiser she organised, a large chunk went to the needy in Radha’s village. The cheque was handed to Rhonda and the village chief. Rhonda had opened a special account for the village development fund. She was the director of the organisation she had set up to help the villagers. Radha was the secretary and the village chief was the treasurer. They needed money to invest in resources. The director and the treasurer drew money from the account to invest in these resources. Rhonda ‘borrowed’ from the money she had withdrawn to pay back the loan sharks partly. It silenced them temporarily. The treasurer used his money to buy a brand new car. A transport was a must to travel between the town and the village and also along the bumpy roads within the community to visit the homes of the needy.

Rhonda used the rest of the money to buy software and advertisement space on Facebook. She set up an account. She found Manik, a young astrologer from Radha’s village. Manik moved into her home. He lived in a room adjoining Radha’s. He read fortunes from the birth dates and details of clients Rhonda provided. She paid him a salary of Rs 10,000 and sent him for driving lessons. He was thrilled with the package! This was the start of manpower development!

Rhonda had started her business…foretelling the client’s future, for only $50/ per case. Each US dollar is more than sixty Indian rupees. So, Manik’s monthly salary was about US$160. Rhonda made a huge profit because in the first month itself, she serviced at least a hundred people. Once Rhonda had the ready money, she repaid all her loans.

As her ‘business’ prospered, she had excess cash. More and more people wanted to have their futures foretold. They wanted to feel safe. Rhonda gave them what they wanted. Manik did some amount of fortune telling with the birthdate and time sent online by the client to Rhonda’s website. The rest Rhonda couched in language that made it imperative for her client to continue. She would write;”I am surprised how perfect the timing is. The next two months are really crucial to your success and, with my guidance, you could really achieve your target. I am shocked at the perfect timing of your coming together with me.” And then, there would be another form to fill and the money to be paid. If people wanted more in depth guidance and for a longer time, they would need to pay more money. The ‘business’ had really taken off.

Rhonda was now rich again. This time, instead of playing in the casino, she decided to buy one. She started with a small one and expanded till it became one of the most popular casino-cum-hotels. Manik’s salary went up. He lived in the hotel now.

Rhonda soon started a chain of casinos and hotels. She employed many people. Her casinos were doing so well that now Mark wanted to take her on as a partner. He admitted he had misjudged her.

Rhonda’s fortune telling website had become a big hit too. Politicians, diplomats, actors, actresses and a bunch of other ‘successful’ people used her services to achieve more success. No one is more insecure than the rich and famous. They are always threatened with the fear of becoming less rich and famous. They need the best money can buy to maintain their status. Being Rhonda’s client soon became a status symbol. People began offering more money to her to have their future fortold. Manik had a few understudies now.

From a socialite butterfly who could never hold onto money, Rhonda became a business magnate to be reckoned with. She also continued her work as an NGO. Many more abused women were being encouraged to lead separate lives, away from their husbands’ and in-laws’ unreasonable demands. Some of them were trained to work in the five star resort, club and casino opened in the village by Rhonda. Electric supply, water supply, internet and roads to the village had improved as more of the rich, powerful and jet set drove into Rhonda’s latest resort in the village. The villagers found jobs in the casino as support staff. Some of them learnt about fine wining and some about fine dining and others helped with the gambling in the casino. The strongmen became bouncers who threw out drunks and insolvents. Rhonda had indeed developed the village, provided employment by opening a casino cum hotel cum health resort in the most scenic spot of the village. She had even started a school which not only taught unlettered youngsters but also organised lessons with a view to train up the future employees of her resort.

The Feminine magazine set her up as a role model for younger women. They gave her the award for the entrepreneur of the year.

Recently, I read in a newspaper, Rhonda was planning to run for the chief ministership of the state!



Have you ever captured the happiness…

In the first ray of the morning sun,

In the fluttering of a butterfly wing,

In the brightness of a sunflower turning its face skywards,

In the nodding heads of pansies quivering in the breeze,

In the gurgling laughter of a six-year-old,

In the melody of Mozart’s notes,

Have you ever captured the happiness…

The Conundrum

The Democrat

God opened a new factory…one for making labels.

His worker asked ,”Why have you opened this factory? What is it you want to establish? Most companies make their own labels or lease it out to a vendor nowadays to save costs. Then, why are we making only labels instead of products? For who are we making these labels?”

God answered,”Let us slow down and take one question at a time.”

God ,who had a fantastic recall said ,”Question one: Why have you opened this factory? Answer: To make labels. Question: What is it you want to establish? Answer: That is a good question. We will arrive at the answer by and by. Third question: Why are we making labels only instead of products? Answer: Because that is what mankind wants. Last question: For who are we making these labels? Answer : For mankind.”

The worker looked bemused and said: “I am still very confused. Do you not decide what mankind wants?”

“No. Mankind decides what they want. I was made by them, for them and of them.” said God.

“You sound like a democratic leader!” said the worker.

“Am I not?”asked God.

“I thought you were the creator of all mankind and all universe,”the worker mumbled. He was feeling more and more perplexed.

“I am,”said God with a smile.

“Then how is it you talk of servicing mankind?”asked the worker, now at the brink of a breakdown.

“Well. I was nothing and the universe came out of nothingness. I thought of my existence and I started existing. Then I thought of the Universe and Earth and it happened. Then I thought of night and day. Then, I thoughts of different life forms. They all happened. I was The Creator. I created. It was good fun! I thought and I made it happen… ”

“Then I made some of My most supreme creations…mind, thoughts, ideas…and they all happened. My creatures were thinking, questioning and praying. They wanted many things…one of them were their wishes fulfilled…for that, I needed to service them. From a creator, I became a fulfiller of wishes. When I created man, I gave him thoughts…led to needs…led to ideas…led to wishes and dreams….If I leave them unfulfilled, mankind will die of frustration… Don’t you see?”

“I understand. But that still doesnot explain this factory for labels,”said the perplexed worker.

“I am coming to that… When men and women started thinking, they started defining roles for themselves in society…like teacher, trader, doctor, engineer, priest, farmer…and they became labels that stuck to them for the rest of their lives. They trained for these roles in school. They did their utmost to fulfill these roles and create super-specialized labels,”said God.

“But your labels do not bear these names. They are called mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, brother, wife,husband…”said the worker.

God said: “I know. In quest for professional excellence, man forgot to sustain and nurture these relationships and roles. That is why I am making these labels…with the hope that mankind will again learn to redefine himself in essential human roles…”

“I do not think there will be any takers for these labels. These roles are always taken for granted,” said the worker.

“That is where media and art will come in…”said God. “Just watch. I am also the maker of dreams. “

The Traveller

Do you like travelling?

The call of the mountains

They stretch out to the sky
And call…call out to the wild.
Tall, towering, majestic,
Rising above all that is scenic
They call…they lure,
All those who feel their pulses race
Every time they see mountains grace
The far flung horizon.
Their being fills with elation.
Rarified air, clean, pure.
Some are green
And some, white and pristine.
The mountains call…call out to me
As if they are a part of my being
Inviting me, inviting me to fly,
Fly from the peak to the sky…
A little fleck in the infinite.


In Memorial

Losing a life is very sad, especially if youthful and full of promise.


O little boy, I weep for you.
How short your life !
How many the tears
As the mother weeps
To see the hearse,
The rigid hands,
That lie forever still.
No life left in the still face,
No smile will ever grace,
The lips that lie forever closed.
Death has cast it’s spell untold.
O little boy, I weep for you!
For the wonderful life you missed,
All the sunshine and birds that sing,
That, for you, will be forever still…
You will wake up in a better place,
Where happiness and sunshine will lace
Each one of your wonderful days.


I feel myself drown in the embrace
Of the frothy waves that race
Crying out to me,
Come, be a part of the sea.
I surrender myself to the water,
Feel myself drift and float
Till a huge tsunami swarms
And hugs me in it’s arms.
I feel the salt water enter my lungs.
I no longer float but sink.
Till I hit the ground.
I wake up
An undersea mermaid
Singing in a distant strain,
In the blue green water I reign.
This is now my domain,
Away from strife and pain.
I wait for the time and space
When from this watery cave
I will emerge in sunshine again.
Shimmering with reflected light,
Rainbow-like, I will glide
And ride on a swan
To the start of a new dawn.

Swept by the Wind

Do you enjoy walking in windy weather?


I soared adrift
Swept by the wind.
Soaring high,
I took to the sky.
Feeling my wingtip,
From infinity to infinity,
Stretch beyond
My own comprehension,
I flew feeling wild.
Words cannot describe
The joy I felt during this ride.
The strong breeze
That cut through the trees
Held me in it’s free grip,
Tossed me, turned me,
Ripped through me
Till I cried,
And with pleasure sighed.
Below, I could see the distant land,
The brilliant seas and the golden sand.
I rose higher and higher till I flowed
And with reflected light glowed.
There was nothing of me,
Except a translucent being
A reflection of what was and what had been.
My past, my future all held by a glowing beam.

The Bird

Tossed by the wind,
The bird swings.
It flits, it floats,
Away from it’s course.
Swept by the currents,
Carried by the torrents,
It finds a new horizon,
A brand new vision
From it’s new found height.
Emboldened by the sight,
It rises and soars
Towards it’s new goal.