The Evolving Meaning of “Social”

In the era of Whatsapp and Facebook do we ever care to actually make a “call” our kith and kin? Our mobile notifications are arrayed with numerous text messages, but how many calls?

Today, calls are made for business purposes, interviews, or official tasks; sometimes for the tasks which require some urgent response. Apart from that, our everyday calls to message ratio might be 1:20.

There is this strange thing about telephonic conversations. If ever I receive a telephone call from a friend, or I am obliged to talk to a relative on phone, I am at a big fix!

The first 30 seconds are okay when you fill up the gaps with ‘Hey’, ‘How have you been?’ and ‘What’s new?’. But… What next? After that half a minute’s of awkward silence I am like — What should I say now? –Who should speak now? — Should I ask about the job? — She might feel offended — God help me! In worse cases I end up stammering a few words.

The problem is nobody has time! Or may be, interest! Is that even a problem? People say today’s generation is glued to the social media, but are we really “social”? Or has the definition of “social” evolved with time?

Gone are the days when our neighbors used to visit us in the evenings and discuss about the rising prices of vegetables. Gone is the time when we used to flock up after every power cut off. Times are changing. The meaning of “social” is changing. Telephonic conversations are merely customer service or sales calls. Friends’ hangouts are nothing but large selfie sessions and junk gorging. Sometimes we meet our own parents twice a year!

The so-called “social” generation is not so social. At least I am not. Are you? Correct me if I’m wrong.

When a Book books a ticket to your heart…

You keep tossing throughout the night, wondering random things. You are unable to sleep and keep thinking what’s bothering you, what’s making you unhappy. As the night grows darker you begin to feel very sad; so sad that you feel the urge to cry. You keep thinking the cause of this unhappiness, but you find none. So, you give up and end up waking your husband.
“I’m feeling so sad, I don’t know why…”
“What’s keeping you awake, baby?”
“Something is bothering me, but I can’t figure out what!”
“Is this the game of cards you lost in the evening?”
“No, it was just a game.”
“The whole day had been great. You enjoyed the dinner too. Then what is it?”
I keep pondering, unable to decide…
After a while of fathoming the depths of my heart, I remembered I had been reading a book in the afternoon. And what’s bad? The female protagonist had died. And I had left the book in the middle, right then. It was THAT that was troubling me.
“Are you okay?” asked my husband, half asleep.
“Nothing, it’s just the book.” I faked a smile.
I slept the night away, wondering how each book imbibes itself in your heart. Forever.




Making food is an art, and is quite similar to making love to a person. Food is a nice amalgamation of — I won’t say spices and vegetables — but the cook’s feelings, his love, and experience. The artistic fingers of a cook can really do wonders! The amount of ingredients, the order of putting them, the duration of cooking, and so on; each of these reflects the taste of the food made. There is an interesting relationship involving food. As I mentioned, the taste of the food largely depends on the feelings of the cook. Similarly, the taste of food affects the feelings of the eater. So, it goes something like this:

Chef –> Food –> Eater

In a nutshell, everything depends on the chef. Let’s say your wife was in no mood to cook some good food for you. So, in a short span she cooked whatever she felt like. Food, devoid of her emotions and art. You have that in your lunch. Lemme be more precise; you had to have that in your lunch. No matter how less you liked it. You feel bad, and it spoils your mood. You eat less perhaps, which again makes you feel hungry, and consequently ends you up in a bad mood. And the rest of the day goes that way…

So, you see how making food is an art! Somebody has very aptly said, “I think careful cooking is love, don’t you? The loveliest thing you can cook for someone who’s close to you is about as nice a valentine as you can give.”

So the next time you cook, do it with all your hearts. Either cook willfully, or don’t cook at all.




Having THE Eye

This world is a melange of colorful people. For instance, red people– full of vigour and aggression. These people are volcanos. They will burst their lava out and affect their proximities and people in them. These people are always full of energy. They will ignite you too. Be with them for a while and find a tinge of queer energy in you. These people act. They make YOU act. They make their presence felt. A rendezvous with them will make you never forget them.

Contrary to them are white people. They are angels. They will pacify you. They will cool down the lava boiling within you. They will give you peace. They will make you feel that everything is okay and everything will be. They transfer their calm and quietude to you.

Talking of white makes me want to talk about black people. These people are very mysterious. They are so shelled within themselves that you will never know them. There might be some gloom mushrooming within them; may be some mischief; some terror; some inferno… who knows! Beware of them!

Well, we have bright people too. We have green people. People full of life. People full of optimism, hopes and bubble. They will keep reminding you that YOLO. They will live and let live.

You will find a multitude of these colours on a half-an-hour walk by the roadside. Some are monochromatic, while some, a perfect morph of various colours.

People are different. They will act differently. But, more than them, it is YOU who make them different. It is that EYE of yours which makes them different. We all have different eyes which see what they want to. In a nutshell, it’s all ‘perception’. Think differently, see differently, and within a moment you will realise how an annoying begging boy will become a child desperate to study with that money! It’s all perception, my friends!

It’s in the head. It’s in THE eye.

A Soul


A soul, so fragile –

Stir it, and it will shatter

you in a while.

A soul, so silent –

Force it, and it won’t pour

its feelings, however violent.

A soul, so docile –

Count on it, and it will walk

with you, a thousand miles.

A soul, so optimistic –

Hold it, and it will enlighten

your paths, most drastic.

A soul, so mine –

The yang of my yin,

my heartbeat, my lifeline.


The Last


Walking together, hand in hand
Beneath the starless night – bland,
the two bodies, the single soul
knew it was their ‘the last’ stroll.
The moon obscure behind the grey,
hide and seek it seemed to play.
The pirouetting breeze, tickling the soul,
poured out no giggles, just the dole.
Eyes shadowed with gloom profound,
hearts with sheer melancholy drowned.
‘The last’ touch of their warm skin,
they felt with blue emotions, akin.
Hearts brimming with tears umpteen,
Yet, faces, still and serene;
They were together in their moments last
And thus, won the battle vast.
Together their red lips morphed
and all the pain in the moments dwarfed;
For it was a single spirit in bodies two,
Ever inseparable, painted in the same hue.
The heaven echoed with two bullets – loud
Now, burst opened that black rain cloud
This time, poured the crimson delight,
As fell down the two bodies, clenched tight.