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Even if you sacrifice yourself,
place yourself on a gold platter
and offer yourself for common good,
someone would always complain -
"The platter is not clean."
Your sacrifice goes waste.
So never sacrifice.
Because you are not born to die.


Prateek Sur said…
this is gud..try checking out my blog and commenting on th posts..
Priya Joyce said…
who cares abt ppl who complain...
I guess if we r satisfied then it doesn't matter.
we do good for our own satisfaction...
selfishness(in a way) speaks so!
Randeep said…
So true. But never ever gave up. Ask someone who achieved something they will tell u. I totally agree with priya.

Scribbling Girl said…
so true....ppl who have to find faults will always do .....enough is never enough for them.
Wow that is so true!!! :)
Ria said…
absolutely true!!
Thousif Raza said…
i love it.... great work.... loved the last lines :)

loved it :)

take care and keep writing.......
sometimes, you have to sacrifice yourself to live.
its hard facing one self in the mirror sometimes.
Loved the last line.
thanks for writing.
U rock
Tulika said…
I don't know why I smiled reading this.


ps: Lovely background.
Phoenix said…
1 i love the template

2.. i love the way your words now reflect a very matured Anwesa... im proud of you hubby dearest!
Anwesa said…
:) Will visit you soon :)
Anwesa said…
@Lil' Priya,
You have opened a whole realm of philosophy now...will discuss it some other day.
Anwesa said…
@Scribbling Girl,Harini, Ria,

Thanks :)
Anwesa said…
Thanks :)
Anwesa said…
Thanks buddy !
Anwesa said…
Anwesa said…
:) Thanks dear !
rocky said…
Loved the post... Loved your way of expressing what you meant :)
Anwesa said…
Thanks !

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I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.


Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017