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Life’s Day Out

It has been quite some time that I haven’t done a personal post about updates on the blog about life and the mundane, multitude of happenings, or simply life in a day or so. It whittles not about a particular day and rather weeks or days with so many things happenings one after the other. I haven’t been able to write for long and despite promising to self, either with laziness, the anxiety issue which is in control for now, and joining the new yoga class.

Yes! I am doing a six months certificate in Yoga at the Indian centre taking a plunge this year which has been super challenging with the first six months and to think, there was so much happening with us being covid positive. Mom fell seriously ill with several hospitalization trips, one after the other, and hit the peak of depression with panic attacks hitting me hard. Thankfully, things are stable now.

After the initial challenges and an extremely harrowing 2022 on a personal level-I am still not calling the year bad-things have started to shape up. What an extreme year, pretty much like me as a person! I have always been someone with strong likes and dislikes, guess events are following me.

Pardon me for drifting! I have this strange habit of doing that and spend three days a week at the centre, twice for yoga and Saturday for breathing exercises. The challenge lies in the fact that I need to master the Sanskrit names for the asanas and of course, got a fab teacher who pushes us really hard what with me being so stiff with muscles and all. A run against time. Lazy me will slowly yet surely arrive.

I got some interesting news to share, am doing my Masters in Mass Communications and Journalism from Amity online, landing 60 percent scholarship from the University. Post the excitement, there are the challenges of racing against time since I enrolled relatively late with plenty of ground to cover. And, to think I am studying after 14 years of life and it’s something I always wanted to do. The digital world has opened countless possibilities for all of us to make things happen and once cannot stay far behind. It’s important to explore, learn, unlearn and re-learn new things with an open mind.

The midnight candles shall be burnt till the wee hours of the morning for the next two years what with work, studies, and less of Netflix or Prime and yoga certificate course. I never had it so awesome and 2022 is finally shaping up. Did I tell you that I finally watched a movie after 2 years and conquered the COVID fear this month with Brahmastra? Absolutely love this movie loads and will be looking to watch more films. I felt triumphant after munching popcorn in the theater and what an elated, aha feeling with movies, masti and magic. It deserves a post.

As you see, this post is a relatively short one and another reason for pushing myself to write since haven’t been doing that only. It’s a shame, I know. The post came after I spoke to a friend yesterday and the wife of my college buddy who asked me about blogging while telling her ain’t even doing that when she prodded to write. Do let me know if you like the topic, “Life’s Day Out” and might make it a regular kinda column.



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Tales, muse and secrets

Who stole my words?

my obsession for you,

muse not love,

come and intoxicate me,

let’s undress the naked minds,

sip expensive scotch together,

play the maddest game,

BDSM of hymn, composition and prose,

words wield power,

sheer magic of writing,

writing is sex,

sex are stories of love,

chapters to bare and reveal it all,

I shan’t be scared of tell tales,

for every poetry tells secrets and stories.

On World Poetry Day, I attempt a new style combining poetry and sex. Hope you will like it.



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Soul Talks: Stress free Diwali holiday to rejuvenate

Slow down. Breathe. Sink in every moment. No rush. Just take it light. I did that. Absolute no stress. Every Diwali, I normally take a long 3-5 days holiday depending on work ushering into a brand new year. The time to recharge, rejuvenate and take things easy.

I took five days, cut off from everything post-Diwali this time. The elated feeling about zero pressure to run against time to complete deadlines to be with myself and having my books for company, slouching on the bed for the entire day (s). There was a temptation to pen and wrap up the last chapters of the hot novella on the blog or even regular posting yet I choose not to add pressure. I didn’t feel bad or curse the ‘self’ for not writing.

Cherry on the cake is that I read a lot and wrapped up two books, including one that was halfway through on Kindle and the second one, the memoirs of Kabir Bedi ‘Stories I must Tell’ which is a fascinating, honest read where he puts the human vulnerability to the fore. I also watched at leisure three films on OTT, Meenakshi Sundaram, Call my Agent-Bollywood and Love in the Time of Corona.

Immense joy in being with myself and spending days just doing nothing but resting on the bed. There was no pressure to outpace the self or end up frustrated on not being able to accomplish tasks like is normally the case. No email be it official or otherwise, minimum phone calls unless absolutely necessary where the aim is to rejuvenate and recharge the batteries. There have been no blog posts, penning of short stories, or running against the tide to prove a point or the other for it’s no competition. The five days taught me one thing on the dire need to slow down and breathe easy to savor every single second that belongs entirely to us as unique individuals.

Trust me, it’s pure bliss when you wake up without giving two hoots to the world or buckling under pressure in delivering and meeting deadlines. Of course, it’s the post-Diwali detox for everything under the sun to fall into place. No rush or room for past worry in the new year I was ushering myself into. I didn’t think about things that didn’t work or worry about split milk for the vacation’ space is the time to be with the self. I didn’t type a single word and the laptop didn’t move an inch where it was either open or closed with a dark screen. Believe it or not, it’s the first time ever in my life the laptop didn’t bulge giving such a nice airy feeling. It’s therapeutic, happily unproductive, soulful, and empowering just to laze around doing zilch. The time belongs to me, myself, and nobody else.

The cherry on cake is that it will help me to bounce back stronger and super productive to write till the wee hours since over the years, felt some rush of energy block preventing me to perform creatively. Lazing around and doing zilch helps to figure out how to make the most of things and tilt the energy ebbs and flows in my favor. It was the time to recharge one’s battery to come out stronger.

Time is a luxury of the sort, I know. Some people call it money. I say, at what cost and it’s okay to forsake during the time when lights lend perspective where it did this time for my mental sanity. A hugely significant Diwali and the days off. I am back to writing on blogs and for the e-short story been planning where post the rest cum detox, penned 1.8 k for the last novella chapter. Let’s roll fast.



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Writing in coffee shops and the pandemic

The last time I probably sat with my laptop and worked on a novella for 2 hours at the coffee shop was in February and something did after a year of lockdown, isolation, and avoiding the crowd. I was stopped in my track with the second wave of COVID-19 and since then, there were quick stops to avoid contracting the virus.

I miss sitting in coffee shops for hours, typing on the laptop, reading books and newspapers. It’s not that I no longer have coffee outside and to the contrary, every week after getting down from the Metro, I visit but for a brief 10-30 minutes. But, the culture of sitting for hours to work and sipping coffee is lost for the past two years.

There is a certain joy in the coffee lifestyle to sit, work and ‘rare’ chats with people, accompanied by the laptop. I am basically an outdoor person sitting with my laptop and that’s where the creative juices flow, surrounded by a dint of fresh air and watching people sashaying their way. A part of me feels that the art of working in a coffee shop or for that matter, meeting people is becoming less and less frequent.

Coffee shops in a pre-pandemic world was me and space time which lent me the opportunity to be with myself. A personal date, surrounded by books and thinking time to be free from all problems in life to gulping reading materials. It made me super productive as a person. I would be visiting thrice or four times a week and often looked forward to the happy space. How I wish that I could be more productive by writing novels! Unfortunately, it went for a toss and only when we no longer have the luxury, there is a tendency to curse the lost time, a timely reminder on not taking things for granted.

A ubiquitous charm sitting in coffee shops, occasional smoking breaks, or pastry treat, the gentle breeze flickering lends a sense of comfort. You don’t just buy coffee but pays for an environment filled with vibes and energy. Ideas flow for you are not boxed, unlike the four walls in a room or office space. It is romantic and personal. For someone like me treasuring my space, there is a hidden romance where so many stories are weaved. Just observe the surroundings, so many stories wait to be unfurled.

Sitting in a coffee shop is a trait inherited since the college days and I remember sitting at Barista in Mumbai and Pune endlessly for an entire day studying where I made friends with strangers. I normally don’t hop from one coffee shop to another but prefer to be in a familiar spot or outlet.

Unfortunately, the entire scenery has changed owing to the COVID 19 pandemic and there is an underlying fear about contracting the virus. Will things be back to normal working in coffee shops? Honestly, the whole thing seems uncertain, at least for the time being. I am not a published author nor do I think writing in a coffee shop is a fad but inspires me to write. I can do that for hours with the entire thinking process, sketching ideas or for that matter creating characters out of thin air. The fictitious characters arises out of real-life people, we observe from a distance and don’t they say, just look around, a story is born.

The future looks precarious as we are honing the art of living with the disease or going out to meet people or sip coffee. I am longing to see the disease go away to get back in the groove about sitting at leisure in a coffee shop to write. It feels like a luxury for now.



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The story thief

Stories staring at me,

ideas brimming,

whipping a flavor,

ain’t writing,

for there are blocks and fears,

who judge aspiring writer,

drenched in his melancholic and ego trip,

mediocrity is alter ego to pompous,

stormy writing aspirations for years,

hey! I can write,

flip the pages,

idea gone for a toss,

lazy writer,

bury the manuscripts,

incomplete drafts,

days lost and turned into years,

i’m the idea thief,

who never burgled the story,

just a ranting,

don’t you mind!



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Hiya July! Paint every day with words

Hello July! I often wonder how writing is easy writing and an urge to post just for the sake of doing it for hits rather than not misses. The madness of staying relevant in this age of Insta, to stand tall as influencers or just hits.

At times, I don’t feel writing about anything for the simple fact about feeling lazy or that there is too much thinking that it may end up taking good 2 to 3 hours. And, editing! Phew! Don’t ask. It’s the maddest part about writing and quite a painful exercise in doing. There are days when I end up doing poetry to save the day but then isn’t it cheating. It sends me on a guilt trip and no two ways about. Hey! This free writing exercise is turning quite well.

First question and no kidding about, what drives your writing process? Is it the thought or pre-planning stage on what to write on the blog and how often do you share stuff immediately after hitting the published button. To be honest, I don’t share stuff very often and it’s once in a blue moon affair. I don’t see writing as glitz or writing to be impressed. Most of the times, the writings is lost and no longer scribble like in those days. It should comes from inside and not a botched up job.

Second, compulsion is not good for writing and if you push yourself thinking that I must write to activate the social media button, the end product may not turn out to be good for it lacks the empowering quotient. Writing shouldn’t be forced. Sorry to be blunt, 10 lines instagram doesn’t make you a blogger. I belong to this breed of people who still believe that content is the real icing on the cake and it doesn’t always whittle to making money or running ads.

July has come as an odd month in such uncertain times and perhaps making us realize that if we have come so far, there is no reason we won’t make it. It holds true for Writing. Let’s set the bar modestly high in making it during this month and no reason not to believe that it is already s full of promises and sheer optimism. June has been good to me laden with surprises, probably because it was the birth month and all my efforts in keeping it like Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, it has been burst bubble coupled with surprise gifts making the day. I shall speak about it in a post this week.

What is the connection between July and starting of this post? Honestly, I dunno for attempted a free writing and pretty like my characters, the opposite poles and drastic ends met in the unlikeliest fashion. I would make such a terrible novel writer and film maker hinging on two extremes that doesn’t make any sense. Back to writing, how do you plan lifting you off the writer’s block, if any? A free prompt would be a fiction set in the month of July and how you are stuck in a time warp, imprisoned in a wall with alphabet block J U L Y. It’s the perfect excuse to write like mad and devoting not 500 words a day but even 200 words would do for a part of me is feeling joyful on the first day of the month. It gonna be beautiful by painting every single day with words.

Not every day in the month would see perfection unfurl and there would be days hitting a raw nerve, sinking low but that’s the challenge right. Go and make July the month to remember. I shall take the challenge heads down and pen my collection of short stories for a Kindle release.

Happy July



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How to say I’m a Writer without actually spelling it

Gargi Mehra is one of the bloggers and writers I follow. I always knew her to be this super talented writer but the fun streak is refreshing to know. Go read this post which is so much fun and she shared another posted link on Writer’s Relief. I read it and back to her post, decided to jump on this bandwagon of fun.

While I am no writer of published book or for that matter wannabe, there are ingenious ways in claiming the pie without actually telling to be One. Here we go:

  1. I keep buying notebooks and colorful pens, staring at the blank screen, scribbling story ideas that gets unwritten and an agenda diary penning Daily To Do Writing, buried over the years.

2. The ink is totally dried on my work station that someone may get wrong ideas that I do weird stuff to them. Silly mind, I ain’t into BDSM and have no intention writing about them in future. No ifs and buts!

3. Always on a spree and can’t resist getting pens or notebooks from the supermarket as if it’s the hottest chick in town. Don’t believe me! Check this picture of the colorful notebook still unpacked since 2020 and splurged many hundreds on the news ones this week. And I thought, buying fancy pens and notebooks is my ticket to be a best selling writer in town or motivation. It’s no gymming.

4. Before you tell me move my ass, I have conducted three writing workshops last year urging participants to follow the 500 rule, except that it doesn’t work on the man who thinks he’s PG WodeHouse.

5. Yes! I still swear by Chetan Bhagat, cigarette after sex Five Point Someone!

6. If you ever scroll my google search engine and before getting me to jail just bear in mind that that I have no interest in Savita Bhabhi or desi hot stuff, it’s plain research for hot romance. Yes! I mean it and have no intention to be caught and cooped in mental asylum.

7. Hate British commas and figure ways to slash repetitive words even in technical writing. Still have doubt about me claiming “I am Writer Without Saying I am a Writer”, I shall rephrase it too.. I am a Writer Without Saying So…” coz the first one was repetitive. See my obsession.

8. Have doubts, don’t google me but break into my Grammarly to see how proficient I am.

9. I got my first Dell Aspiron laptop to write the next best seller romance. Sold second hand to a neigbor coz wanted to dance naked on the street. I wasn’t jailed for that. Howzz that for writing imagination! Got an HP washed with Beer and an Asus making me curse the choicest desis cuss words for its frozen every single day and my window to the world cum screen presently is hanging by a thread to be detached soon like split wide open. It’s been 10 years and still writing the best seller.

10. I need a MacBook next year for well I write and can’t wait penning the book. Plain and simple.

11. The fuck word I embellish is what creativity does and don’t mean it literally.

12. I keep buying ebooks and hard copies, receive in gifts too for that’s where a story can brew in my head.

13. Look at my manuscripts, an abandoned fiction romance draft, restarted the second and lost again, poem collection and trying to save my collection of short stories project thinking it’s water.

14. I can give people prompts to write. I list story ideas and give freely on Twitter.

15. On Facebook, I write lengthily on my status and just name a topic of your choice. My challenge to you.

16. If you ever steal my diary, my guarantee you might end up with a heart attack and giving for free to all my foes or folks hating me. Sweet revenge and seeing unkind entries about you or me thinking about you as Donald Duck, Rakhi Sawant or Kangana Ranaut. See! this is the trailer of what I make of you.

17. I can listen to chote chote peg from Sonu Ki Titu Ki Sweety in search for the next big idea and someone told it breaks writers’ block into tiny pieces pretty much like virginity.

18. Noteapp on my mobile is forever open and if you see the number of poems I wrote, it’s already a book. Now argue with that?

19. I dream of making sentences in sleep only to forget them in the morning,

20. This post about writing is a work of fiction and bears no ressemblance to any ghost, half-human, spirits, living, dead or roaming like wolves. Now, you know where all craziness comes. Say Writer, spell Writer.

Feel free doing it and ping me. Will read.



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Quenching thirst of words

Pain is absorbed,

painkillers are words,

weaved to heal the soul,

unattached to harm,

penning words,

rubbing the soul,

companion is writing,

penning thoughts,

balm to the mind,

i form long sentences,

writing heals,

maketh me complete,

i’m a writer,

calling thy massages the ego,

solace in words,

syllable to quench thirst,

sentences telling a tale,

of the unknown,

stories untold.

shan’t tell you about,

it’s love,



till we meet,

flip the pages.



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Random thoughts

Words inspire us and creating imagination out of thin air. No poetry or musing just whatever comes to the mind. So much and little we can create idling our way as efforts flickered decluttering the brain, steamy as the car engine revving up towards an unknown destination.

Sit with a pen and notepad jotting on ideas translated into something eatable, meaning writing. Short story! Too lazy for that. Penning an emotional and imaginary letter can pull the brain apart and fling in a complex territory. Reflection of a mind doing a dozen things in a day and Whatsapping to peeps in bundle, happy Tweeting or Instagram posts. Everything is creative in what we do on social media taking a toll on us and better go write a novella when sitting lame and ducky.

Check my WP feed and see people writing on guilty conscience, memory and privilege. Ah! Privilege is something many of us have and tragic with the lack of bare necessities for those in need. The privilege helps me to buy alcohol or book a course on Udemy like I did just now. Upskilling is the norm in uncertain times and booked an NLP course, something really wanted to do. Some big discounts have been going on. At a time like this, the heart cries out for the commoner lacking the basic food and having nowhere to go. We can make a small difference to their lives through our digital bank account and need to move fast, starting next week on how help can be given to people, suffering the most.

A surreal world and beyond logic! Chuck it out! Earth revolves and meant to surprise living beings unfolding the drama every nanosecond. The mind is always forgetful and wondering how basic things skip me every now and then, the promise of cleaning the upper shelf where the idols are worshipped or the TV wooden casing. To-Do-List comes in handy and something that needs to be constantly updated on the word document, I wanna try novel things to be explored and been quite a start with a friend introducing me to Google Duo conference, something that wouldn’t dare to do. Tomorrow, we got a call with her circle to spread positivity. Slowly, the discovery of digital conferences, right from attending and delivering workshops on an educational e-platform to online courses. I admit that in normal times, these are things that wouldn’t be exploring.

I see a dim and colorful light in the neighborhood, wondering what the lone person must be doing. We all lead lonely lives at the other end of the corridor, making peace in what we have on our platter, be it food, dreams and worries. How often we ask on what we can bring to break the monotony! Perhaps coming to terms with the unrequited is our way in making sense with the otherwise drab, I often ask. The cure is just an excuse for us to heal or buying time. What happens when we find a solution to our ever-increasing problems faced? It doesn’t complete for us since a new ailment will hit us when we least expect.

The beauty of free flow like the fingers flowing on the motherboard right now, freeing from the pressure we tend to put on the brain. Try it out with the lack of structuring in giving shape to the tipping point of bullshiting. Love writing when there is no plan in forming words. A therapy to control and express anger, in channeling our energy to the more constructive. Writing, arts and drama help us to express what we keep inside. Gutted out, an expression laying dare and bare on social media. Think about it.








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Day 12: Type Maro Type

The shuffling of ideas like a pack of cards and lost at the drop of a hat to bang the head on the wall. Has it ever happened to you? I languish at the memory loss and quite a task retrieving the pointers to write on the blog. Just write! I’ve heard it zillion times. Staring at the diary’s blank pages. Shame on the ability to write zilch entries and a far cry to the countless promises made to the self.

How many things can a human being process in the head and the brain as a storage or memory box? I am an over-thinker. It’s given. Yet, I fail in doing justice to so many things, happening like water overflowing and the pump bursting. Fingers flowing and tapping on the memory box. No point thinking and hitting the memory bulb. There are days like that and just not happening right now. I am convinced that gotta write something. Pen and paper by my side! Notepads, old and news, scattered on the messy table. Yet! Not helping my cause at all. I am a gone case, sometimes wonder.

The various scientific studies come as such a psychological savior on how humans on average use one percent of their brains and is reason to motivate the self that there are more to us, coming to terms with the lackadaisical attitude. Often, we are not alone and so much company. It means nothing and everything. All is not lost, the heart and brain agree. It’s not that we shouldn’t fool ourselves on how much we process. Yes, right, fool and we do that often, right. One trick is to jot things on paper to haunt and coming handy to wannabe writers like me. I did that today while watching a movie, something never done before and wrote on the phone on the scenes for a film review. Should I be proud! Well! Ahem! Ahem!

A brain is never at peace and caught in a maelstrom of fuck ups and sundry. Blame it on social media and caught up in a warp of silly squabbles when the mind is verging on something positive and creative. I plainly lost it more than one time. It’s such a recurrent with me. The danger about being so unproductive on everything digital and no wonder why writers cut off from the humdrum of lives to cut themselves, off and sit to work on their book, surrounded by nature. I long to do that so many times but quite a luxury of a sort.  What do I do! Just sit and stare at the laptop to be able to write. I should be able to do this, sometimes.  Or, shut me off from the world! The writing is not happening on so many fronts!

Oh! Miracle! I just typed 500 words right now for all of you to read and perhaps chuck or brush aside for making boredom happen. Energy conservation. Water conservation. Boredom conservation. I write shit, you see! Too much focusing on the unreal of things. And, we are only Saturday!

Writing is the only skill that I have and can sell. The rest I suck at! The biggest salesman of words and taking huge pride in that to take me places and turning a blind eye to the flaws creeping from time to time. Am I doing justice to words! Sometimes, I just run away for some folks called it mental blockage. I guess it’s just a way of penning words.  Till then, type maro type!

Told in public interest. This post penned by a writer under the influence of two pint of beer and read at your own risk.