And then March arrives. Summer again. The neem trees smile, They have to flower, Only they can defeat the sun, And remind us, Once again, ‘I bear this for the earth to cool somewhere’ While others dry, droop and fall, Get crushed And disappear into the earth. one of many
Now a writer, still struggling. Have been a journalist and a teacher. Love music and the Himalayas. Lived in different parts of India. Married to a writer. Have two sons and a daughter-in-law (more a daughter, new and ready made). I also have a brother and a sister, and four lovely nieces, a nephew son and a little grand niece. I live with my mother and my mother-in-law. All are book-lovers.
The day I’ve looked to for years is now my dreaded bitter end. Melancholy incarnate, I feel nothing, much to my chagrin. My mind a wall, nostalgia the flood. Bursting through upon the hour. Bittersweet memories of you. The wall
Sitting back and gazing at the contingencies, That had their existence owing to a lack of effort, A lack of attitude, a lack of passion, The picture seemed so dark then, so dull, When people had given up all hopes,