That day Anita came back from school, all drenched in sweat, and with a face matching the red that her eyes were, and ran straight to her room. Her mother, imagining the worst but hoping that it wasn’t so, customarily laid down the table with Anita’s close- to- favorite dishes, for lunch.

Ten minutes later, a cleaner Anita appeared at the lunch table, washed and scrubbed in a white cotton dress now, as if having made truce with whatever it was, that had happened in the first half that day. They both sat down for lunch, and silently started eating. The mother patiently (though getting a little impatient with the each passing minute) waited for an explanation to the latest events, but Anita gave none. Exactly ten minutes later, Anita finished her lunch and headed back to her room, not a word exchanged since her return from school. Now the mother knew that something was seriously wrong, when the usually chatty Anita had not spoken a single word in the last one hour since her return from school. On a paper, she scribbled a note and slid it under Anita’s door, and went for her afternoon nap.

The evening saw Anita running out for her play time, a jolly and happy girl, as if nothing at all had happened to disturb her. Later in the day she had discussed it all with her mother, sorted out the unhappy, and started yet another eventful challenging next day.

Today, when Anita is now a young entrepreneur with lots of things to scare her and tire her zeal, all she does is read that note her ma had slid under the door that day(now framed on her wall) and re-gains her strength:

“Life doesn’t happen on its own, whatever it is that bothers you today, is either a consequence of your letting it happen, or of your letting something else happen. Whatever it is, take ownership, fight it back, and be the promising strong lady I am raising you to be ~ Always there to hear you, Ma”

– Stuti


With her, always.

A simple word in a dictionary,

And the vocabulary taught to a child,

I am there in a section not so prominent,

And yet not hidden from the eye.


No one adorns me with pride, no one shows me off,

Some get scared at my sight, to most I’m no delight.

Yet they miss me when I am not around,

And start saying stories of ghosts and spirits, ugh!


The promising follower of the teacher,

The disciple who would not leave sight of his master.

Some say I am in love with her,

Some think I simply haunt.


Me, I exist because she does,

Me, I go everywhere with her.

Me, I have no smile and no tears,

Me, HER SHADOW, always so dark, and yet SO CLEAR!


– Stuti

Then, when and now.

He asked her this and that, more than just often,
And she was eager to respond.
She waited for the questions in fact,
And at times even pushed through some of her own!
The equation, a mystery,
Or maybe not one, existed since inception it seemed.

For reasons unknown, and in seasons unseen,
He noticed a change in the green,
He still asked too many, she just wouldn’t reply,
A nod, a shaking of head, a lie (very sly?).
Sometimes, a cover to something,
Sometimes, a partial blind to hide,
Maybe also sometimes ignorance, but to him,
A different ‘her’, her enthusiasm somehow dried.

Is it her, or is it him, he wonders,
Maybe both, he concludes, but definitely more than that simply!
What has happened is, ‘life’,
And its whims airy!
He still wonders where the string snapped, and she still doesn’t reply so much,
Their stories go on, and so does their trysts with trust.
Both hold on to their sides,
Hoping they are not being misunderstood.
Knowing something somewhere is not right, he waits for ‘life’ to show her the way,
There has to be one, THERE HAS TO BE A BETTER WAY!

– Stuti

The speck of something.

That speck of something,
A not-so-existent, yet all-time-there, mysterious ‘that’.
When for the first time, she had found it, not by chance,
She was actually made to discover it,
A trait bundled up and hidden so well, eyeing for a release.

She was very proud of it,
They applauded her for it too.
It was a verve, a passion, some say,
A gift, an art, a brainer, everything,
And yet, just a speck of invisible!

She looks for it again, not believing it is gone,
This time probing the world for ideas and leads.
She doesn’t know where to look for it,
Or even what it is that will be the answer,

– Stuti

That evening on the road.

It must be running late for somewhere,
Or maybe wanted to be there a little bit early?
That big red SUV, as if out to show its colour and rage,
Inching forward bit by bit, hoping for each second it could make.

On the other side of the road, this girl, a brunette,
Patiently or not, waiting for her green on the signal.
More than one thoughts swimming in her head, probing for a permutation of answers,
Possibilities of counters, mentally making note of what all to get.

Another two minutes and a half, phew!
Happened a green light, readying her to race back home to her sweet happy.
When interrupting her thoughts right there out of nowhere,
Came that snarling red monster, shyly trying to cross the road before a red.

What happened next is best not described, but a wife did not reach home with the milk and bread,
And a red SUV, now blue and black, was at the garage next day.
It sees all that, standing tall and high, there on that crossroad, sometimes red, often orange and then green,
Unable to speak but guiding them all nonetheless, that old pillar they ignore, that only object on the road, NOT IN A HURRY.

– Stuti

Christmas Party.

It’s Christmas again, and just a week to the new year then. Like every 31st December, this one too will see new promises, fresh resolutions, sparkling reasons for motivation, and creative solutions to dodge them all J  Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year everybody! May the warmth of the merriment bring happy glow to your faces and lives.. Cheers!!

Long queues for the entry,

Couples fighting for a pass,

Theme parties, red and white overload,

Countdowns, music, midnight past.


Some lose track of what they are celebrating,

Some hope to lose track.

For some, the celebration is a rule- breaker,

To their monotony, a welcome hack.


She too has a somewhere to go this year,

Call it a celebration, whatever. No long queues there,

She’s promised its going to be refreshing too-

A little tête-à-tête with her heart, an affair rare, a CONVERSATION TRUE.


– Stuti

Extraordinarily normal pls?

In an extraordinary scenario, the sun would be bright on the foggy white winter days. Every fruit bearing tree will have a perfect yield and no crop would be destroyed or damaged. There would be no disease in the society and ill feelings would be a muse. Everybody would be happy and content, and fighting, or even picking up the slightest of an argument would be unacceptable, to say the least.

On a normal day, the sun will be there up in the sky, but hidden by the white fog. Some fruit bearing trees will have been destroyed by a pest, and others will give a good yield. Some disease would sure be there in the society, but that would mean rewarding those that discover or invent a cure for the disease. Ill feelings would exist, only for those that do wrong. Happiness and contentedness would be a routine, but there will also be a roadblock or two of unhappy moments. Fighting and picking up arguments in the heat of the moment would be common place, given the human temperament of being impatient and expecting more than deserved.

An objective analysis of the above two situations boils the difference down to two words only- “extraordinary” and “normal”. Each day in our routines, we tend to categorise our everything into extraordinary and normal without knowing the exact definition or components of either. There being no SI unit of measuring the level of normalcy in something, the concepts are in fact, very subjective. And yet we tend to give so much importance to these opinions of our head! We let our judgment of the day as being normal or extraordinary spoil our moods, spirits and tempo altogether. We let these temperaments have an impression on our work and actions, and finally, we let these two topple the whole natural consequence of things and term them ‘unexpected’.

My two cents? Get the best of both the worlds and create magic! Define your own ‘normal’, but don’t be harsh, and push yourself to be the ‘extraordinary’ you define, but if not achieved, do not punish yourself for it was all your own creation after all 😉 Take the opportunity to revise the ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ every now and then. Gracefully help others to meet their ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ levels. And finally, juggle your ‘normal’ and ‘extraordinary’ and get the better of them to be your true, sparkling ‘most extraordinaryself!

– Stuti


Her karvachauth.

It is often a chosen few days of the year, such as one’s birthday, that make one feel different somehow. One of such days in the lives of many Indian women in North India, is the day of Karvachauth, celebrated each year with renewed faith in a lot of things and forces I may not be the right person to talk about. But the positivity and fervour that the day instils in these women (and as I see it, some men too!), adds a brilliant shade to the otherwise mostly- black & white, palate of life. I discussed this festival and also wrote about it last year, so for those of you needing a background, here’s where you go –

Thoughts in my head this year around..

Ah you sweet dear beautiful moon!
She competes with you every Karvachauth to look prettier and nice.
And when she finally sees you in the dark sky, after waiting for what seems like decades each year,
She resigns with a smile, to your beauty, as her beau resigns to hers.
A festival celebrating love and rituals, hopes and promises,
The fervour leaving in the hearts that love, a feeling of ‘HAPPILY COMMITTED EVER AFTER’.

– Stuti