ragathoughts

It is every day on a daily basis, has become a routine. Every night the clock strikes half past eleven and every day another day at office draws to a close. The very monotony some times bogs me down. Yet with not much tension of work and with a happy feeling of heading home I welcome this hour. One gets to know the destined hour, the hour that marks the end of the official day. One can get to see people just switching off their PC's and wrapping up their work. The drawers at their desks are stacked with the day's work and then locked, the cupboards and flipped open and then shut as if some unknown order has been made and it has to be followed. Some tidy up their workstations (for the person coming in the morning, as we share the same workstation), some just shut down their PC's, carry their belongings, say the customary "good night" and push off. At this point, if one stands near the exit gate it seems as if, some factory has sounded the gong for ending the day an

"Communal Divide" , I think I dont believe in these words, otherwise one of my closest friends would not have been a Muslim. It was a bitter sweet relationship initially which, gradually, over the years grew to such intimacy that I have started regarding her as family. With Sam, I never feel out of place. I can never relate to her as aperson from a different community. All the more reason of writing this i can never erase the memories of that day when her "Dadi" fainted and life at their home has never been the same as before. I went to her place, only to find Sam exhausted with lack of sleep. She came rushing and held me, as if, to gain some inner strength. I held on to her, like I would held my own sister, comforting her. Seeing her "Dadi", I could not hold back my emotions. I hugged her with all compassion because I see my own "Dadi" in her and not some fundamental lady. We took her "Dadi" to hospital, got the tests & CT Scan don

Experiences are something which can be un-limited and they can be good as well as bad, but one such incident which will always remain very close to my heart would be the how nature cracked a joke and the earth laughed resulting in an major earthquake. I thank my stars to be still alive and penning down my experience of the earthquake. Thankfully, the epicenter was hundreds of kilometer away from Delhi and NCR still the shocks were more of a nightmare. The day being a Saturday and I being at my aunt’s place at NOIDA to enjoy the weekend woke up to the sounds of my younger cousin’s beautiful voice, as he sang some songs. Somehow, I managed to drag myself out of the sheet that enveloped me and groped for my all time companion, my sweet little mobile phone, to check up on the time. It was almost nine o’ clock and was a little later than my usual time of getting up. Slowly, I managed to pull together my unkempt hair to a tight bun and walked out of the room to greet every body a nice mornin

Life takes a breather every now and then. It is always not so dull and tensed. It gives us the opportunity to relax and unwind from a hectic schedule of the fast paced metropolis. In order to relax a day after a month long bed rest, life provided me with an opportunity to appreciate the unspoilt beauty of the twin towns of Lonavala and Khandala. The weather was at its best in mid-July, the monsoons pouring their heart out for the dried parched earth. An hour and half journey from the Pune, renamed aptly as the “Oxford of the East”, we zipped past on the Mumbai-Pune six-lane expressway. The wet tarmac on the road, the occasional downpour and the lovely lush green fields on either side, all were providing the required enthusiasm. The most fascinating part was the two tunnels, craved out of the huge mountains. Going through them seemed as if we were entering the belly of a huge whale, the inside being fitted with rows of neon lights. The middle of the expressway was full with all kinds of