FranKophone

You put your hands in your pockets and whistle away.  Don't ask me how I know. I just happen to ... You wake up exactly at six in the morning every single day. Don't ask me how I know. I just happen to ... You prefer tea to coffee and just know more way.  Don't ask me how I know. I just happen to ... I have invaded your dreams and intrigued you. Don't ask me how I know. That is how I know you.

Prelude : I kept my promise today. I'm back with a post. My first tryst with prayer was mainly due to my gluttony. Yeah,you read it right ! A sin-laden virtuous beginning. As they say, it is the age of Kali . I remember my father saying prayers in the puja room, scent of incense wafting in air, the little bell ringing and the beautiful peda (a sweet) served on tiny copper plates. Needless to say, I loved peda and that drove me to that room itself. Yes ! Temple bells fascinated me. It felt awesome to wake up someone from a nice siesta. At school, we had prayers at the assembly, before classes and after classes too. I hear some schools have prayers before lunch break too. The words still remain etched in my mind. Serene. Pure. Just as I told them then. Without much understanding of course. There came a phase in life where I stopped praying. I rationalized that there is no one to listen. So why waste time ? After all, one cannot be fooled all the time. I never was a ...

They say old habits die hard. I guess it should be "Bad habits die hard". I painstakingly wrote this blog in my early days, made a lot of new friends, revived old friendships, established a brand of writing , won accolades from fellow bloggers and one fine day .... suddenly there is nothing. No writing, no visitors and no inspiration to write. A lot to crib about,right ? But this ain't gonna happen anymore. Robin Sharma da promise ! I shall shamelessly write, share the links wherever I can and bask in glory once again. The attention seeker is back ! With a bang. Now that the sleeping lion has awoken, there are some promises to make. This space will be updated everyday from now on. No matter how dead tired I am (of doing nothing worthwhile). Chalo,promise liya hai toh nibhaana padega ( Every promise deserves fulfillment ). #Muft-ka-gyaan Mondays are tough ; eye candy helps. I made this collage on Picasa last week. I guess there isn't anything more soot...

Eight minutes. I deserved eight minutes of his time. A two day train journey and two hours of bumpy ride. All this just to tell him “Hi! I still do”. He was polite. Of the three hours I spent at his lobby, the girl offered me coffee thrice. He said he was tired. He thinks differently. Our lives are different. Children grow up. They will anyway. He did not say but I guess broken hearts mend too.  P.S. : This post was conceived and typed in 8 minutes. Hence the title. No relation with "Eleven Minutes" by Paulo Coelho. 

I had promised myself that I would write here oftener. I broke it. Like I have been breaking promises since ages. I feel guilty about it. Maybe a little more this time. I do not know why. Is it because I realize I have run out of time ? Too old to run,breathe,think,feel,take risks. My mistakes have not ruined me. I am ruined on my own. I feel trapped in the open. Pictures do not speak to me anymore. But I am not in a mood to give up. Not anymore.

                         The mere mention of armed forces evokes the image of courage, bravery and discipline in India. However, in north-east India and Jammu and Kashmir, the picture is vastly altered. Military force is synonymous with fear, brutality and suspicion. The main reason behind this contradictory public image is the “draconian” law, Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act. It has vested the armed forces with absolute power mainly to aid fight against terrorism and insurgency. Several unprovoked arrests, tortures, rapes and deaths go unnoticed under the wraps of AFSPA.Unmarked graves have been found in the valley. Fake encounters and disappearances make headlines.  At times, it is a case of mistaken identity. Violence in Jammu and Kashmir has increased since implementation of AFSPA in 1990. Similar incidents are reported from the north-eastern states.  Jeevan Reddy Commission (2005) had recommende...

I once wished my room had a window. I could watch the world pass by. Like bougainvillea flowers merrily drifting in the winds. Fragrance of love wafting in the air. The street lamps glowing yellow. Hawkers selling their goods. The new mall flinging its neon lights unto the streets. The crazy young crowds. Random children chuckling as they walk. Bike competitions. The busy bees. The old, abandoned and helpless. The madman calling names. The rains. Gods visiting homes while playing with colours. The police patrols. The riots. Someone could shatter my window panes. So I loathe windows. Broken windows are painful. Pic Courtesy:Google