Heavenly delight

It is when you feel the crunch of garlic bread and the butter melts in your mouth, the cheese oozes out of the fusili and the cream layers your lips, the jalapenos energise your glands and the red pepper vims your taste buds that you really : even food can taste like heaven. 

Chinese treat

Butter garlic v/s sweet and sour. Which tastes better??? 

Blessed Rain

When rain pours, the sky changes meticulously. 

Colours of Spring

“I slept like a log,

A cold wintry slumber.

And the next day I woke up to the tune of a cukoo

Touched by the soft, mild rays of the sun

With a waft of elixir,

Roses and aramies,

Ah, spring morning with flowers”

Spring is more than just a poetic word. Nor can it just be stereotyped as a season. Spring is a metaphor. The word spring evokes a thousand emotions ranging from inspiration to the poet, free time to the school goers, love for the lovers and a coiled mechanical structure to the simply wry ones. Spring is undoubtedly the most beautiful of all seasons. It lacks the austerity of the winters, the sadness of autumn and the brightness of the summers. And it scores in peace- a noisy kind of peace.

However, the advent of spring begins with the cyclonic retreat of Bordoichila to her mother’s sweeping all on her way. And out of the torrents of rains that she blesses with, sprouts floral buds and blossoms. The world rejuvenates with green leaflets on trees. The field shoots out florets of grass. And the heroic of all- orchids or kopou phool- the white foxtail dangling from towering trees, with petals infused in purple. It is that time of the year when the cookoo’s voice echoes the air.

In my opinion, seasons, just like religions, are very personal. What to me is a tree could be someone’s memory and what to someone is just a song could be my hymn. Seasons are just like that- subjective. While most associate spring with love, fertility, activity, I like to associate it with rest. I think the Earth’s resting when it’s spring. It is like that latent period after a year round hard work when you watch your fruits bloom. Everything is beautiful at their creation. I like to think of spring as the starting point. Maybe that’s why most of our Indian calendars start with spring.

Isn’t it just like our lives? The similarities are striking enough. Think of a young boy…

(For more on this post, check out With My Cos page…)

Fried ice cream

Crunchy biscuit on the outside, oozy vanilla ice cream on the inside, this dessert is more than just a sweet. It’s a metaphor. 

scared to be lonely

I came running to you. After every fight, every misunderstanding, every time sharp words stabbed the hell out of me or you. After every tear, after every pain, after every problem, I came running to you. You used to ignore me, my face, my tears, my heart, my love but not for long. You gave […]

via I am scared to be Lonely… — The Wanderer’s Thoughts…

White amidst green

A tiny white butterfly at nature’s lap of greenery…