I nudged my mom to buy it for me, an apple cake.
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As the cute child I was, the shopkeeper instantly took out a piece for me seeing the need in my eyes. I demanded more…She looked into her purse and the emptiness within.
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She asked me to run home …
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Fidayeen…
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The cake never returned
is this my dear blog’s demise?
should We blame the price rise ? 
Frozen well celebrates its first anniversary! ok I mean I am celebrating first anniversary of frozen well …here’s wishing all the friends,followers,well wishers,stalkers and enemies a very happy new year..and thanks to all of you (yeah yeah including even enemies) for making my blog a place worth visiting 
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Frozen well celebrates its first anniversary! ok I mean I am celebrating first anniversary of frozen well …here’s wishing all the friends,followers,well wishers,stalkers and enemies a very happy new year..and thanks to all of you (yeah yeah including even enemies) for making my blog a place worth visiting
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
…when you know what happened to Anne Frank and her ‘dear diary’….what if you die as great celebrity and even then you don’t want to reveal your stuff? What if you mentioned everything in your diary but forgot to mention to anyone that they weren’t supposed to read it even after your demise? Well, burning it doesn’t work, you may want to re-read, relive the moments at certain particular parts of your life. Locking it is a bad idea completely, some or the other key always pairs with a lock! Then what is the whole point writing a diary?
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Let us say when you were alive you couldn’t tell certain things to certain someone and you want them to know at least after you die. What’s the guarantee that that ‘certain someone’ will not die immediately after you die? ( out of shock, or joy whichever applicable).what if that certain someone never finds your diary? Worse still, some stranger reads your ‘dear diary’ and has a laugh(of course you should have written hideous stuff to generate some humor ,albeit unintentional)
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Your life is then a mere book. There then is no meaning to the anonymity, the secrets you kept tight to your bosom! Have you ever thought what happens to your ‘dear diary’ long after you cease to exist in this world…
the diary will remain, the pen will continue to write, with you or without you
Well if you are Einstein reborn on this planet the science fraternity does a ‘shocking revelation’ out of your moodles and scribbling(you get peanuts!)
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What if you are Obama and wrote up your blunders, recklessness in your diary? Would you want them to be read by the world (well you may needn’t think about this hypothetical situation too much, because no matter how hypothetical it is some of your blunders would have already surfaced in your tenure by the time you die)
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What if you were Hitler and wrote a draft passionate love letter inside? Oh would it not hurt your infamous tyrant image?
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What if you were Da Vinci and divulged the secret behind HER smile? (and many other ‘symbolism’).Of course you must be a dumber version of Da Vinci if you did so.
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What if you were just simply YOU and you wrote up about your first kiss, first crush and different fantasies?(and your mother read it to test her new reading glasses….)
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Being a common man is also a herculean task. What happens to your dear diary after you die?
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Suggestion-
Write in your will….
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And what if you neatly folded the will and kept it the middle of your ‘dear diary’?
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The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
When words filled mute corners
And rhythms played harps,
Not the other way round…
When chimes moved no muscle
So that they didn’t miss what you say
When giggles crossed books and shelves
And heaviness of evenings felt so light
~
O give me lines to write
O give me lives to live
~
While you fortified your tears
And counted mine as they trickled down
When laughter broke out of those same forts
And roared amid death silence
Dry leaves began falling from above
Just to have a closer look at you
When giggles crossed temples and bells
Loudness of gongs felt so faint
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O give me lines to write
O give me lives to live
~
But rhythms will all soon perish 
Sounds and words will finish
Giggles with be washed by times and space
And then in some different clothes
I shall come here again
I know you would be here too
Waiting to be found, waiting to be ‘you’
O give no lines to write
O give me more lives to live
~
Then perhaps I would find for you,
‘Known to many, seen by few’
I’ll search for you in the dog eared books.
Running my fingers across the dust shelves
Hitting gongs and temple bells
‘Seen by many, known to few’
In my dry leaf, I find you
Like a fresh pearl…’divine dew’
~
I don’t have to say anything more…this poem is for you diu (look even this line rhymes…You diu…diu you…yoo hoo…do the dew… )! Happy birthday to you!
Worse than a tough past I got
I run from agony of ever, forever.
So deep, that I forget my name.
So bright, obscures the lane.
Again…in pain
It never was fun
It always was ‘just fine’
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Clenching in my fist the morning chirps
Crushing in my hands the musical notes
So loud, I forget my voice.
So harsh, it’s no melody somehow
Again…in mayhem
It never was a laugh
It always was a mockery
~
It is not that I cannot fly
It is not that I cannot run
So light, I may not stand
So heavy, I may not carry
Again…in distress
It never was a walk,
It always was strife
~
but
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In here I could see you,
Every star in sky is clear, better.
So pretty, I can’t take my eyes off
So far, I can’t get my hands on
Again…in love
It never was ‘hurt’
It always was a hymn.
~
Dry lips, wet eyes…
~
Whilst even enemies around mourn,
And friends rejoice the ‘ignorant bliss…’
Whilst even lions stay indoors,
And cattle get out for a chase…
Whilst even crows crow with delight,
And sparrows dig deep burrows!!
~
Dry lips, wet eyes
~
Whilst they ran away seeing me come
You longed to see even an obscure me…
Whilst they spat the ground I stood,
From you; a gentle nod and a pat…
Whilst they smiled but with plastic charm…
You made me giggle, no more dry lips
(Whilst you even carried a hurt heart…
Whilst even you carried a hurt heart)
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Dry lips, wet eyes…
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Whilst they said I couldn’t do better,
You knew this truth, yet were gentle!
Whilst they warned me of tripping over,
You kicked the stone away before I tumbled…
Whilst they laughed aloud as I fell,
You fell with me, turning it into some fun game
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Dry lips, wet eyes
Now a little wet, now a little dry…
~
This is for a person who recently has been with me. He really helped me a lot when I needed someone the most. I know that I know him not since really long, but I feel that he knows me since ages and knows me really well. Alright we don’t speak much about me in here, do we? Well, today is this special person’s 20th birthday and I couldn’t find a better gift in the toy store. Here is your stuff toy dear baby Krishna, hope you like playing with it…I wish you a long and bright life and I really hope we stay together for as much time as possible. May you be given whatever you wished! May whatever you get be whatever you wished for…
This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 5; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Smiling away the pains of yesterday
Painting on canvas the smiles of tomorrow
~
Thoughts of sorrow tossed in abyss
Like they happened never ever…
Like I never noticed a breeze.
Like I saw no thirst, no hunger.
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Earnings of trust and love’s all I have
Have they never bought any comfort?
Yes they did more than a life.
Yes they did seal some fissures
~
Smiling away the pains of yesterday
I hold you
Painting on canvas the smiles of tomorrow
~
They come in evenings, speak a second…
Smiling scanty as if it’s some ritual
They see me speaking my heart out
Albeit few times a day…
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They get in some medals
And my eyes emanate light
They tripped over stones
And my eyes overflew from pain
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Dear I have written a poem for you!
“I am getting late mamma, bye, love you…”
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This is the way they leave everyday
This is the way they live everyday…
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They surely speak few
But need no words of mine to know,
That I am smiling away pains of yesterday.
I hold them…they reciprocate
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I am still their mamma, they are still my soul
Is this their fault or my aging you know…
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Together slow and steady.
We Paint on canvas the smiles of tomorrow
Just that this is all just in a day’s work.
~
“Show that whatever you wrote for me..Mamma”
This poem is dedicated to my Mother who is also a poet and author…I want her to rediscover herself,but she won’t…everything has a time I suppose…perhaps she forgot that she required herself more than any of us.May be she lost herself owing to all day’s work…what I call a struggle,she calls it life…but it is really sad that we take her for granted…
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
