Shaam to nahiN hai par dhuaN dhuan saa hai.
Not a single child came to the door for Halloween. Sitting with a pile of kitkats.
Leaves are falling,the branches are getting bare.
Lots of thoughts, ideas but no time to sit and write.
Hopefully soon.:_)

your story

Vijayaji. I liked reading your story. Your main character is a little too bhavuk for my taste, but her sorrow and loss is legitimate. Looking forward to seeing more of your writing.

musings

A writer posted a long story on his blog. A good story. Traditional. 64 people liked it. I read it twice, first as a reader and then as a critic. I sent a response as a reader.
It got me thinking about my own writing. I am always amazed when I read the critics. I realize that there is wide gap between what I intend and what the readers and the critics get or not get. People ask why Antarvanshi? The answer is imbedded in the text, maybe too subtle. It requires close reading. Also
my writing now includes many layers of what I've read and what I write now. But how to explain? Antarvanshi first appears in Agyeya's (my favorite writer) Yayavar, Rahega yaad?
In my novel, it is contrasted with Surdas's poem of how the gopis ran out, leaving unmilked cows, house, children when they heard Krishna's vanshi. The music of inner flute, when heard is even stronger..

watermelon hit : on my head

a freak accident. A huge watermelon hit my head, left a headache and a bump.
how did it happen?
1.I was lying under the watermelon tree.
2. I was playing catch with my goldfish.
3. A Harvard professor threw it  at me because I took the last parking place in Cambridge.MA
So , what happened?

Julie and Julia

Saw the movie on pay per view. I was envious of Julie, for coming up with a gimmicky blog and the following. Something must be amiss about my blog. Is it the name? The content?

I am discouraged, so don't post any more.

IS there a point in blogging if no one is interested? I might as well write a journal. I've found that writing a journal perpetually gets me depressed.

Things to cheer about. 19 inches of un melted, white snow on the ground. Two blue birds and one red bird on the feeder. I was worried about my resident cotton tail rabbit9 or are they deer?) residing under the deck, but he was there, leaving his dropping under the bird feeder.

I bought a new coat yesterday. Just to put on while getting the newspaper and going to the bird feeder.

Going back to julie and Julia, I learned my cooking from Julia child. I had just arrived in USA and couldn't even boil a pot of rice. I bought an old tv for $45 and watched Julia child religiously. I couldn't do much of her cooking stuff, being a strict vegetarian and somethings turned me off. I learnt to love cooking, and now I can say that I've reached a level when I can call myself an accomplished chef. I'm already a master gardener and a prize winning fiction writer. So there!!!

Burying a good friend

Actually, he will be buried tomorrow but i wont be there. I can't face this ritual. I've already said good bye even before the hospice volunteer told us how to say good bye. it came from the heart. I told him as he lay in a coma how much he meant to me as a friend, how he was always there for me and how happy we were all as young friends, partying, drinking, singing and dancing.

He was very good looking, with intensely blue eyes and Scandinavian blond hair, a fantastic sense of humor and and a good story teller.

Whether I am there or not, how can one say goodbye to a dear, dear friend? He'll always be there, around us, a part of infinite and of endless universe.

Be at peace.

autumn winds

the winds are gusting at 40 miles per hour. I sat at the waiting room at the hospital and saw the dance of trees, shrubs and the grass. Every limb, twig and blade moved in a different way, dancing to its own rhythm. When the wind came, the grass moved as if someone is running a hand through it. it shivered, as if in ecstasy. The young trees moved their limbs to their inner music, branches were in a dance of their own. The little flowers, remnants of a vital summer, seem to shudder and then pick up the dance, waving their heads this way and that.

It was fun to watch. I imagines the waves getting high, the droplets in the fountain jumping up and the rivers churning up the foam. Most of the time everything is so quiet and as if in repose, but today it was the dance of the wild.

All the while the cars rushed on Junction Road and the day progressed on hi sown pace.