Peaceful life has its own flip side !

Life is full of tensions and people keep running here and there. They do not find time to sit and relax. Every time they keep thinking about something or the other.  Many of us feel edgy and jittery through out the day. We sometime think – Alas! Cannot life be peaceful!

However, there is flip side to a completely peaceful life. If there is nothing to do in life, it gets dull and drab. However, our restlessness prompts us to do something; it motivates us to move forward. Our restlessness directs us to go for some activities in our life.  When we look the life from a short term angle, peaceful life appeals us. However, when we evaluate our life from long term angle, our mind tells us that we could have taken some risks in life and had we taken some ‘risks’ in our life, it would have been different altogether.

Sometimes, we feel that flow of life has stopped. There is nothing new in our life. However, we feel comfortable in the situation, where we are.  We stick to our situation and do not want to exert ourselves. One part of our mind says that there should be some change in our life; however, we do not feel like taking risks or entering into new ventures. These kinds of thoughts make us feel disturbed. One part of our mind tells us that we are not ‘zero’; we have ‘something’ in our life and this makes us feel contended. We somehow find peace in our life, in our own way.

We sometimes want to change but without disturbing our peace and this makes us standard, where we are. This way our life remains peaceful and stationary, however, it gets unexciting and uninteresting. Nonetheless, we sometimes get restless with peaceful, calm and cool life and want to come out it.  We keep trying to come out of it and sometimes succeed in bringing changes, despite uncertainties in life.  You cannot change life if you do not want to make efforts and lie low. So do you make efforts to transform your life or you feel contended the way you are going?

Housewife are Nation builders

On this international woman’s day I would request all men and women to pledge that the housewife be given the status of Nation builders. Please let not the census group housewives in “economically non-productive” category with prostitutes, beggars and prisoners. It is an insult to the community by referring them as non-productive community. If a mother is able to give just one conscientiously sensible son or daughter to the nation a major part of the problems are resolved. I am sure there will be innumerable numbers of great sensible sons and daughters who would agree with me and help housewife the required sensible respect and status in the society.

I have an accomplished background with great respectable achievements but just for the sake of my children I have given up my profession. Rather than giving excuses everyday in office for the sake of my family and children I would prefer to stay home to imbibe the culture and tradition I have acquired from my mother. I would dedicate my life to all those high achieving women who preferred to be an housewife and work only during their leisure by exploiting their inherent talents. I have no other way to reach the community for support rather than to sit at home and start his blog.



Every woman will go through the ” what is happening to me ” phase in her life, more than once. Women tend to internalize trauma lot more effectively than men and thus implosions are very often. Now when I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s EAT PRAY LOVE, I too was gulping more than my fair share of crisis. Its toll was visible on the outside. It was sheer curiosity that prompted me to read this book.The title EAT PRAY LOVE, resonated like a chant,for I love to eat, like to pray and love to love. It sounded like an easy solution to my multitude of problems.

I started the book, I finished it. I asked myself what would I do ? We always tend to put others before us so much that the question of ‘what I want ” is always given minimum priority. But when this woman, Gilbert,took to healing herself through food, prayer and love, it seems possible for women to self-heal.

I’m not here to tell the story or comment on the book. But the book contains a key and I have discovered it. I opened the resources to my self-healing once in a while to realize the simplicity and magic of this three elementary…love.

How curious are you?

Many of us work very hard with full dedication at our work places. However, sometimes we feel that our curiosity to know certain new things is dwindling.  At some point of time, we do not feel inquisitive any more.

When we are hungry, we feel like eating and crave for some food. If we have eaten well, we temporarily stop thinking about food etc. However, after few hours we start feeling hungry again. Same is the case with our inquisitiveness, our desire to get curious keep surfacing as per our requirements. Actually, curiosity is must for our life. If we are inquisitive about mysteries of life, we keep moving on. If our curiosity has died down, then life also becomes a baggage.

If we have to live with zest and enthusiasm, our inquisitiveness should not go down. We may feel temporarily tired after getting to know certain mysteries; however, we should awake again after some time.  When we get physically tired, we take some rest and then re-start working, like-wise the flame of our curiosity should light up again, once we have taken a break. To acquire knowledge is directly related with our brain activity. To know something and to explore something gives us a kind of mental exercise. When our brain gets tired after gaining knowledge about new vistas, it also requires some rest. So when our brain gets adequate rest, it recharges itself again and we get curious as we were before. So would you like to be curious to acquire new things so that life gives you a motivation to live?

In The Box…

I always passed through that room,

Where was kept your big maple box,

And it made me wonder

What all you might have kept in stock?

May be you’d kept those tinkling bracelets

or your favorite anklets.

May be the box contained ethnic quilts,

Or those decorative white pearls.

Were there in it iron candle stands,

Or had you dearly hidden old letters written by his loving hand?

Perhaps there were in it a few post cards,

Could be those hand-made paper greeting cards…

May be the box had sea shells and corals,

Dried rose petals or feathers of peacock.

Whatever that it had,

The box didn’t bear a lock.

Your box was wide open,

The window near brought on it rays of sun.

And the maple shined,

I approached the box to find.

It had all I’d imagined and more,

It was your persona; your core.

All that you’d preserved, you’d treasured,

The enduring love in these pieces you’d never measured.

What struck me the most was the box being open

From it I learn-

To remain open to things

And take free air under the wings.

A glance at the box tells me for once-

To be open to everything under the sun…

Keep your germs to yourself

Pathogenic germs are there everywhere, all around us, in the environment. The so called filthy, dirty places are the hub of germs and deadly infectious diseases – this we all know but it’s the clean and supposedly germ free places that should be our concern. For instance your dinner plate can have millions of germs thriving on it. Or the sparkling clean floors, walls, your kitchen? All could be the thriving place for tiny warmongers. You never know!

There are various ways by which you can keep yourself germs free – both preventive and curative. Beside, vaccinations and inoculation, which are the popular ways, antibiotics impede the growth of germs by killing their growth and spreading all over the organs. Our personal hygiene and the consciousness of a cleaner environment add to the germs free and disease free life. It’s also important that you know the priority of keeping the germs to yourself. Here is how:

How to keep your germs to yourself

Cover your nose and mouth while sneezing, coughing, blowing nose.

Discard used tissues in the trash immediately. Cover the trash bin.

Wash your hands after sneezing, blowing your nose or coughing.

Use warm water and soap or alcohol base gel, sanitizers, disposable wipes to wash your hands.

Try to stay at home since that not only helps you recover fast but also helps the environment from spreading the contagious germs.

See a doctor and abide by his prescription. Take rest.

If asked, use face mask.

This doesn’t take much, does it? So, make sure you do your best to keep your environment germs free and the people safe. Happy living safe and healthy!

The Empty Nest

Shimmering moonlight peeps through the living room window. Beside, a glass bowl is dearly kept, which contains some rose petals and water, and the bowl holds the reflecting moonbeam so lovingly…as if a mother would hold a child in her arms. The peach colored satin curtains are draped affectionately emitting a sense of warmth.

On the edge of the side table sits a smiling picture frame of the entire family— hand in hand, having fun and frolic on their holiday to Darjeeling which was toured some nine years back. How young everybody appeared then, especially the two of them, sans wrinkles and the lines on their foreheads. The children too appear equally tidy; the younger one just out of college, and the elder one having bagged his first job in an ad agency. In fact the Darjeeling trip itself was accomplished to celebrate his first stint.

The day the picture was taken, it had rained in the hills. The air was crystal clear, and the clarity of this air was visible on the smiling, contented, & refreshing faces of each one in the picture. The younger one had caught hold of a “gorkha” watchman of their bricked cottage in Darjeeling, who had obliged to click for the family what now adorns to be their drawing room family photograph in years to follow.

The silent picture tells the story of the middle class upbringing of the children, and of her and his glittering eyes as they have in them some far reaching dreams they’ve dreamed for their children. The smile of the children too is very genuine. Yet the smile shows that there are some unconquerable frontiers which they still want to attain. Thus both the children had their own set of higher aspirations. The elder one had accepted his advertising assignment as a stop gap arrangement, while the younger one had ambitions to study clinical research. And so they moved up their respective career ladders.  Few years down the line, the elder one earned a scholarship abroad in Media Research; while the younger one got through an acclaimed clinical research college in an international university.

It’s been six years now, since both the children have flown away, leaving both of them with memories. They all meet quite often; they visit the children and the children too visit them. Back home, this spring he decided to build a birdhouse outside in their garden. And once birds flew in, she and he began tending them adoringly. The birds too responded well, and built their nest on the tree where the bird house was placed.

So although their own nests were empty, he and she went ahead and tended another nest.

Every other day, when they remember the children, they closely admire and examine the Darjeeling picture, and some more such pictures which are scattered over the walls leading to their bedroom. Some years back, when they read about the uprising which grappled the valley of Darjeeling, they remembered their children, and missed them more than on any other occasion. Today their nest is empty, but they have no complaints. After all, they themselves had taught the children to dream big, and now that the children were doing so, what was there to complain???

Outside, the moon is still gleaming bright. The water in the glass bowl is ripple free, and still. The radiance of the mystical moon is far reaching. In the course of the day, it will cross the seven seas and enter the slit window of the respective rooms, in the respective houses of both the children, where they’ll be fast asleep. Perhaps it will whisper to them that back home in an empty nest everything is absolutely fine; life is as usual……..

Moving Life

As I move past the green avenues

Vast fields and the endless path

I realize that life is in motion

It’s moving eternally, non-stop, relentless

Life never stops living, does it!

It never says no to what’s in front of it

It continues, whatever come may

Doing its job, integrated and unmoved

It’s us who stop, lament and live on the memories

Memories have  a shelf life

And letting go of the ones that hurt

Moving , breathing life, living to the fullest

Makes living beautiful!

value friends

It was early morning and I was lazing when she called up.“Is it really her number” I looked closely to reassure that she was the one who was calling then ignored it. “I won’t spoil my mood early in the morning”, I said to my self pulling the bed sheet over my head to slip in to the comforting world of morning slumber. A beep of the sms disturbed me again irritated I jumped out of the bed, it was her sms it read “ I know you are awake but not picking up my phone because you are distressed because of me, want to tell you that I am suffering from cancer. Wanted to say sorry to you before I die.” I deleted the sms thinking that it was her regular trick. She always resorted to such histrionics to set the train of our derailed friendship on track. She had that habit of offending people in public and pleading innocence in private. In our last encounter she offended me more than I could tolerate so we were out of touch for three to four years. Many days passed nothing in this matter happened and the message and its sender were forgotten forever. It was a lovely morning and I was scanning through the newspaper when my eyes detected a familiar name in the obituary column. It was her name. She was gone. My eyes welled up. Everything seemed so meaningless, my ego, my insult. But I realized it very late. I cursed my self for every thing but alas. We were great friends and took each other for granted. But on that fateful day the devil in my mind said she is guilty and must be punished. I have that habit of withdrawing myself without giving reason because what anyone else does is their problem but what I should not tolerate is my discretion. That was what I thought till that day. Today I have changed and say what ever others do is their problem but I will see only the good side of everything. Because of my stupid ego I did not answer the call of my dying friend. I have got a fitting punishment of living in permanent guilt. As children we speak out our minds openly but as adults it becomes difficult to speak out for so many reasons. The fruit of innocence once touched by the finger of reason loses its bloom permanently. Thereafter there is only reason for every thing. The beauty of art of living fades with childhood and the ugliness of adulthood survives like unwanted weed difficult to get rid off. Through the tainted glass of adulthood everything is tainted. Even the most pure things appear otherwise. The purity of thought fades away. But some events give you a jolt and you want to dust away the dirt forever and retain only the innocent purity, what ever the price.

strange are the ways of love…

He used to smile at me often, from his window seat where everyday he perched himself with a book. A hard bound green book which he seldom read. Maybe it is the daily fellow-traveler acquaintance  that prompted him to smile at me. I don’t remember when it began, the smiling sessions. I have been travelling in the same bus for 5 yrs now and it seems like my journey began with his smiles.

He was old, his gray streaked hair always shone in the sunlight and during the rains they stuck to each other as if glued. His glasses were black rimmed and cracked. His wrinkled fingers seldom leafed through his green book. One day I got to sit near him. And I looked at his book anxiously and when he mutely passed it over to me, I simply took it to realize that it was the Bible. He never talked and those few times when the crowded bus allowed me a seat near him, he seldom spoke anything. Our friendship started and ended with a smile everyday.

When one fine day, he disappeared and my day began without the smile. I didn’t mind. But when I missed four days of smiles continuously I sensed something was wrong. Upon inquiring with the bus conductor I got to know that the old man who sat on the 5th seat everyday, had no particular destination. He got in with the bus’ first trip everyday and got down at the last stop. No body knew his where abouts and I felt helpless and intrigued. The next day however, he was promptly on his seat. I kicked and pushed through the suffocating crowd to get near him. When I asked him about his absence, he smiled and simply thanked me   for noticing. As I got down I felt foolish and strange for being concerned. When the old lady who got down with me stopped me to tell me that this old man had lost his wife during a bomb blast in a bus 7yrs ago and since then has been travelling everyday like this, I felt all the more strange. A man with no destinations and every journey a new search for his lost love. Strange are the ways of love…

Love – an illusion!

It was dowdy everywhere, people were jostled, confused, heckled. The bleak noisy surrounding was exacerbated by the interventional hullabaloo of the negotiators. She was standing under a huge pillar of the 400 year old heritage building. The sun stared fiercely, she was dripping inside. He was happy, chatting with a friend, whom she did not know. He drank tea, inspected the mundane surrounding like an inspector who had come to settle yet another of his long pending assignments. He then walked up to the museum where the historic trials of the freedom fighters were being held during colonialism.

He came out with a complacent smile as if he was liberated of bulk of his earthly sins, the rest he would be by evening for sure. She was shocked to see him so carefree, so blithe, so indifferent, She did not want to use the term happy, it would shatter her. At about 2-30 in the afternoon, they were being called inside.

It was pretty much like the ones we see on TV. A dais where the chief sat, two wooden cubicles on both his sides, little lower was the most ordinary chairs arranged in most efficient alignment! About 100 black cloaked people had their respective chairs, behind were the settees for the commoners. They went and sat there. The chief, with a velvety black, supremo apparel, started amidst pin drop silence, one by one the black cloaked placed and argued their says. The attendant hollered 107: 2007 and two black-cloaked men walked up to the dais. She and he stood onto the left wooden cubicle.

After a few normal questionnaire, which, mostly, he answered with an eerie, untroubled heart. The man scribbled the testimonial and they were severed for life! It was that easy! She drooped down with a bleeding within, shuffled down the long stairs with heavy legs and finally managed to reach the car all alone.

She had never wanted this to happen, never in her life. It was a long, tiring, depressing, demoralising day. She was finally dissociated from her love, the love that she never had. It was an illusion!

Love is an illusion!

a sorry so true

The salt in your tears

powder my wounds

The blur in your eyes

makes my ways unclear.

I know those wounds

that you hide beneath

scratched with my nails

scars that run deep,

and yet I never stopped!

I should have known

the love that I often  tasted

in your blood.

You were in agony and yet

you came back for more.

Now that, the road has to come

to an end,

and my hand is left unheld

I wish I could undo

all that I have done to you.

If words could convey my tears,

my fears and my pains

I would never speak, for

I’m nothing without you!

I love you, more than my

imagination can stretch, more

than your 6 feet can reach. For

all the blood that I have drawn

I could give more.

For now take a sorry and love me

so that, I could love you more…..

love of a man

Salt and pepper

sugar & spice

all for his delight

her hands in love

pinched tenderly

all for a dish, for his relish.

A man’s love is through

his mouth,

so she would feed him

all she can.

Love needs to be found

through the morsels from

his insides.

So she baked & cooked & fried

until she felt satisfied

& setting a table for two

she waited all night.

When the moon began to bid


she heard footsteps outside

& burping all the while

She closed her eyes

It OK, for tomorrow  she would try

for the love of a man

is not in his heart…

Her last battle

The dawn never ceased to awe her. She raised the hot cup, caressing its rim with a tenderness that made her shiver.That’s how he left her feeling every time, with a cold shiver that’s exciting and annoying at the same time. Maybe, all the doors have been already closed.

Maybe, there is no point anymore in repentance and reminiscences. They did have good times and they had been through hell. A love story of so many years. They played hide & seek through  out their childhood. Youth threw them apart in its early years. And when she had received a call on that fateful afternoon, she never realized that she would mistake it for a hand of escape. It never was, she should have remained there, deep down, alone in her exile.

Demons, she carried them inside and loved them too. For they were her sole companions when everyone else had discarded her, when she had left. Life in a lonely city and then life with him.The sun seemed to draw nearer, its going to happen soon now. She caressed her tummy, in a few months the bulge would have been visible. In a few months, if she was still pregnant, still alive…

He loved her and she loved him back, but sometimes love can wreck lives. Her possessiveness threw them apart. She had no one, except him and so she clung. To the extend of  breaking the chord. And now,when she would have happily disclosed, he shut her up with a proposal of mutual divorce. So she watched the sun rise, with her baby. And a drop of poison in her steaming coffee. When he came behind her and kissed her, all she did was remain numb. When he showed her the pregnancy test papers, all smiles, she couldn’t blink. When her eyes closed, all that she could hear

were his sorry s and she died of having won the last battle, with her baby inside.


I never looked back

I never saw his smirk

I never felt his smile

I walked away, towards light.

I have been in the sun since

with my tears dying in shadows

until none flowed, none left

but smiles..never had to see smirks

I got a hand to hold, lips to graze

eyes to shy away from, life to behold.

But on a dark day

when the sun had shied away

I saw him again, without the smirk

but with love

a love that took too long

to realize.

& I …smirked

in tears.

The Call

I heard a call

a faint laughter

from the ground beneath

echoed into my womb

tingled my heart

and flashed through my eyes.

A whisper, a tickle

a corny secret, all blushes

the call of the Woman

to sway herself  to the tunes

of life.

To walk in high heels

to redden my cheeks

to bat my lashes, to paint my toes

I could be all

& still be muddy, and in moss

I could be the earth

I could be all

for I have the call of Her inside

echoing all through

the call of The Woman!

Life Forever

To say that life is short

To you you embrace death

with dignity is wrong

Cos life is infinity

There is no life or death

Life is what you see and let others see

Death is the unseen life in the realm of heavenly beauty,

With God beside you accepting you as you!


Manju Dubey

La Vie Pour toujours

Pour vous dire que la vie est courte à vous embrassez la mort avec la

dignité est la vie fausse de Cos est infini là n’est aucune vie ou

est la vie de la mort ce que vous voyez et laissez d’autres voir

La mort est l’invisible une vie dans le royaume de la beauté

merveilleuse, avec Dieu près de vous vous recevant en tant que vous!


Manju Dubey


It seems time has numbed,

The wind has missed whispering

The sky is yellow, burning golden bright

Burning my within to dead ashes

Vulnerable, stony, I am a cadaver

Being without you is a sin…

Now, the heat has stopped

The sun seemingly pacified

The breeze cajoling the trees

It’s just started to rain inside

You are gone

Yes, you are gone…

The Eyes

Please don’t consider that

the eyes are  simply the organ of our body.

For lovers

The eyes are mirrors.

He/she whatever the case may be

used to  see his/her image in the eyes of the co-partner.

The lovers talk with the eyes.

They don’t utter any word,

Even they don’t need to.

For an actor/ actress,

The eyes are media of expressions.

They can express their thoughts by their eyes.

For a human with no eyes,

The eyes are the world.

The eyes are most valuable for them

as compared to any valuable in the world.

Its more than a diamond for him.

But we

the  normal people

consider eyes as a  simple   organ

a part of the body.

Its a human tendency

We only knew the value of a thing

when we lost it.


Eyes are valuable and

take care of

and donate eyes for those

who can’t  see.

I came back :)

I had wandered off

into a dream…

all smiling,walking on crunchy


I hoped to discover bliss

I had wandered off from my letters

and found myself in labyrinths

of strange scripts

I looked into my eyes

and I surrounded me everywhere

strange mirrors smiling back

I lost myself somewhere

and yet, I held my hand

I walked back into you

and you stood there all the while

for me wake up and come back

to you….