A Story Which Belonged To Imagination.

A story which belonged to imagination,

Flew around my mind.

It had fairies, small babies,

Flowers, castles, gardens and rubies in it.

The story was full of adventure and magic,

As the story belonged to imagination,

There was hardly anything missing.

Imagination with fantasy,

Often brings out many marvels,

And this story was none the less,

It was a masterpiece on its own.

Happy reading.



My (little) Mother’s Sunday.

When my Ma was small, Sunday was a day of wonders for her. It was the happiest day of her week.

The verandah of her house and the garden outside her home would be filled with Sunshine.

There was a tagor tree and flowers used to bloom on it and there were Rose plants in the garden.

The rose plants would consists of “dark maroon roses and pink roses” and dew would be there on the leaves and this whole atmosphere would give her a lot of happiness.

A Tall tree was there in the cross road of the front of her home through which Sun would peep. It was a day of happiness.

In the season of mangoes, the mango tree would be full of mangoes and the “kul”(berry) tree used to be full of “kuls”(berry).

An egg seller would pass by her home selling eggs and as it was Sunday, various other sellers would come by.

In the evening a “Chanachurwala” ( fried snacks seller) would come to sell chanachurs.

Ma was especially happiest as her uncle “Kaku”would come to her home as it was Sunday.

It was a day when her uncle used to come to her home.

He would smell of pan and jarda and his bag would be full of “khazana” (treasures).

After Kaku would reach her home, “khazanas” would start coming out of his bag. The “khazanas” were Anandamela (a magazine), sweets, mangoes, a pan box, a story books and many other books.

He was a Government Officer and in the evening when he had to return home, Ma and her elder sisterwould hide his shoes and ask him to stay back that night and would solemnly tell him that he could go to his office the next day from her home.

Each Sunday was golden and every one of them was the happiest of the happiest of the happiest day for her because her Kaku would come to visit her and after all being a child she used to like those days the most.

Those childhood days have not come back to her and she misses those days the most.

Each Sunday would be a charm for her, making her the most happiest and the magic of Each Sunday was simply full God’s love and blessings.

Sundays were golden, round and the happiest for Ma and had those days been alive today, Ma would have been completely well.

Ma I am always there for you, so a Happy Sunday Ma. Love you Ma.




Magic is a very big and great word.

Magic is a phenomenon. There is magic in everything.

It’s an art, of disguise, of illusion, of everything that is false.

Magic is a ride on a bus which never existed.

Magic is an image of nothing yet everything.

The word “magic” has been the part of our “lingua franca” since we were small.

Magic is of many types. But there are two types of magic. The first type of magic is normal magic, which we all know as magic portrayed by illusionists and magicians.

The second type of magic is the kind of magic which exists in our daily life.

When a small child is asleep and his mother calls out to him-“my darling son, please wake up”, the magic in those words are priceless.

An achiever, when he or she achieves his/her dream, the magic in that achievement is extreme.

The magic in a mountain is unbelievable. A huge white Himalayan mountain has such an aura that nothing can seem to exist when you stand in front of it except the chill.

The magic in seeing an exotic bird is rare.

The magic in scoring 100/100 in mathematics is supreme.

The magic in getting a promotion after a lot of hard work is full of happiness and cries.

The magic in tears of happiness is special.

The magic in getting approved for a tough to get visa is jubilant.

The magic in seeing a magician’s trick is truthful.

The magic on buying a car is driveable.

The magic on the seeing the prices of petrol and diesel going down is heart fulfilling.

The magic on having your favourite dish made by your mother is out of the world and “no words exist for it”.

The magic in seeing your children succeed is triumphant.

The magic in seeing an elephant trumpet is of awe.

The magic in writing a blog is brilliant and acknowledging.

The magic in seeing a dolphin swim is superb.

The magic in visiting a place of worship is divine and beautiful.

The magic in holding your new born baby for the first time is more beautiful than kindness, happiness and smiles all mixed together.

The magic in seeing an aeroplane fly is loud.

The magic in riding on a double decker bus is windy and cheerful.

The magic in seeing a good, clean and nice movie is relieving and mood relaxing.

The magic in travelling is unique, awe inspiring, great and good for soul.

The magic in having a nicely made pastry is delicious and beautiful.

The magic in having a soft loaf of bread with butter and sugar is appetite fulfilling with happiness and a smile.

The magic on hitting a six is full of self believe.

The magic on scoring a goal is full of adrenaline.

The magic in loving yourself is a magic which is in-built.

The magic in loving others is difficult.

Magic is magic. How you use it, how you pursue it, is your business. Know that wrong use of magic is full of downfalls and the good of use of it is justified and sometimes rewarding too.

Humans are born for hard work. When you weave your work with hard work, then the magic of good kind weaves into it and you flourish.

Magic exists in us and in fairies and pixies and other magical beings and objects. The only differences between us and them are knowledge, uses and need.

Be happy and see the magic in you and your work and in others too. Keep a lookout for the other kind of magic, such magical beings or objects.

The pixie next door is calling out for help, but I ain’t going. Who knows what the hell the matter is?