A Sad Child

A Sad Child

Well, all children are sad
but some get over it.
Count your blessings. Better than that,
buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.
Take up dancing to forget.

– from ‘A Sad Child’ by Margaret Atwood



I made a short trip to Rajasthan for a cousin’s wedding, or rather, I was forced to by my parents, and dragged along unwillingly. Now, initially, I was thinking about doing something special for my hundredth post, but then I saw this and knew immediately that nothing I can come up with will beat these smiling faces I encountered in Rajasthan.

Presenting, very Happy #100 to FPP.

Thank you all for sticking around, for making this blog what it is and for being forever kind. I will try to be regular and to not disappoint you. If you have suggestions, brickbats, or just want to say hi, drop me a line at the listed e-mail address. See you around. 🙂



His name is Eklavya: he is four and just by the way he looks at you, you know he is going to grow up to be a poet.  He told me he cannot sleep; not during the day, not at night. He told me he hardly sleeps and then he asked me if I can teach him how to. I told him to play video-games. I wish I could have told him to write poetry, but then again, maybe he does. Maybe, that’s what keeps him awake.



For Mercy has a human heart;
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine:
And Peace the human dress.

-from The Divine Image by William Blake 

your slightly parted lips – I cannot see
their hues, but know they are not unlike
the Dame Edith Helen I once kissed,
roseate and velvety – only slightly parted,
promising a mellifluous voice to charm
us all: the amazement of a thought
sketched out thus and captured.

If I were that ear-ring, brushing
against your soft skin, heavens
couldn’t tempt me, but I am a mere
painter of words, sitting here,
wondering if you would tell me
what amused you so.


My first post after my longest hiatus from the blog ever since its conception is something that has been in planning for a rather long time, a whole month in fact, but took so long because I was never satisfied with the poem I wrote to accompany the picture. No, I’m still not satisfied, I don’t believe it does justice to the subject of this picture, but my exams are over and I had to start somewhere. 🙂

My inbox tells me I missed some 500 odd posts from my fellow bloggers. I will try and read as many as possible over the course of the next few days. If I miss out anything, consider my sincere apologies in advance.

There are certain other things I want to talk about but those will have to wait for another post because I really am in a hurry to hit publish now.


Kriti free-bird Sharma

PS: Credit for this intriguing style of signing of goes to Amritorupa . Trust me, you want to visit her site. 🙂


You can’t trust water: Even a straight stick turns crooked in it.

– W C Fields

As piercing showers hit your pretty

face, replacing pretentious smile with

crooked obscenities, the ensconcing

veil was lifted and naked truth glintzed,

across the surface of tiny rivulets

flowing down your slender neck.