tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95351912024-03-08T00:22:49.898+05:30PlateIn three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on.
Robert FrostSarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.comBlogger481125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-17631010250581326132023-09-03T23:23:00.001+05:302023-09-03T23:23:13.996+05:30Life's Many ClichesWhen this online, public library began I dare say the influencers of today were probably in their nappies. And I am keenly aware, that there are so many opinions about the 'appropriate' use of social media- what you can publish, what you can say, what is appropriate and I wonder sometimes - why do we treat the internet, a vast alternate world of reality like it's limited. Don't get me Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-52874471728739875452021-12-09T22:33:00.001+05:302021-12-09T22:33:03.826+05:30Saying I'm SorryNot a lot of thought goes into apologies, when those apologies need to be made to yourself. Innately, we are flawed and for some of us (ahem ahem), losing ourselves to a fantastical exploration is anyday much more exciting than the realities of life as we see it. In short, we live in our heads and push away attempts by our insides to bring it out. We reject it. Draining our own inner Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-84478427065303340182021-12-06T22:39:00.001+05:302021-12-06T22:39:31.493+05:30Tell MeWhen the memories of words you said once come drifting into my mind, lifting sanity and satisfaction. I wish I could forget. I cannot. So I rewrite. When I've written over the words, emotions come to get me. And those I cannot stop. I hold my hand against a giant wave, I scream to say enough. They batter me. Yet they do not drown me. I float, sun side up- I want to get up. My mind Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-68677890004153692642021-04-27T03:47:00.001+05:302021-04-27T03:47:52.310+05:30she. yes. shes the one that can wait a bit longer. work a bit harder.understands more.knows better.matters lesser. yes. she can hold on. she wont go anywhere. should she then, life will go on. its ok. it doesnt matter. yes. shes the one with no nick names.a forgotten memory. a checked out hotel room.she'll be there. she'll be fine. yes. she's the one i love Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-64757079472330255002021-04-14T00:24:00.001+05:302021-04-14T00:27:29.466+05:30BurnShe took a puff in, and felt a burn in her chest. So hot, she felt feverish, and slipped deep into a delirium so round, so alluring, she closed her eyes and let it suck her in.Right here, in the middle of the many coloured rings she saw him standing, hand stretched out. She slapped it away and ran the opposite direction until she stopped hearing footsteps and turned her head around. Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-62968691423861179052021-03-24T01:38:00.001+05:302021-03-24T01:43:24.002+05:30Eulogy to PuNk KingdomShe would take random pictures and videos of her close friends and showed them beautiful parts of themselves. She was so cruel to herself, and would constantly give feedback and challenge herself, we'd wonder, but she is so beautiful, why can't she see.She was the woman, who came into my life and changed everything. She elevated me, secured me and then she didn't. I lost her, and am loosing Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-30998372526996227642021-03-23T01:05:00.001+05:302021-03-23T01:05:29.887+05:30NumbSomedays, it's pain. Otherdays, her sisters envy, jealousy and love come to visit. The only kind siblings, were loneliness & numbness. She never visits and never expects.Loneliness: She didn't even know she was misunderstood. It just never occured for her that she could be seen by others, when she herself couldn't see them. She didn't need to label her feelings. She never thought to wantSarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-23892848955964088002020-12-24T06:32:00.004+05:302020-12-24T06:32:51.774+05:30Grief Grief walked around during day time in the sliver of a popped up vein on the forehead, and she carried it around like a child with a medal for something she didn't understand.She knew, she understood it marked her now. From the moment she sensed loss, it marked her the way snails leave trails on hard black granite. There one minute, disappearing the next to sight, but you know they're thereSarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-33136827937904554642019-04-05T03:01:00.000+05:302019-04-05T03:01:44.844+05:30
Amongst the many hues and shades of colour, there was just one that stood out brightly. A shade not etched in , a shade that no one saw, a shade hiding slyly between two shades of something, there was nothing.
You will shades into existence, with peer persistence, but hasn't every shade been discovered. What if you find something new? What happens when it's been explored and whilst the mundane Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-38364646732017172722019-04-05T03:00:00.001+05:302019-04-05T03:00:42.449+05:30Patterns Deviate, like people.
They connected the dots with matching moles and travelling spirits. They sat in silence, under the night sky watching the stars. Resigned to fate, it was known that it was ending. I'll love you till the end of time, would still be true.
They had just stopped pretending it was anything more than it actually was. A deep friendship. Maybe it wasn't important to know every inch of the other person,Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-32801752516947496142018-07-02T01:03:00.001+05:302018-07-02T01:03:46.582+05:30Sol 2
If it were, were it to be me, were it to be mine, what would it be.
When it is found, when it breaks and remains broken, will wishing it away work this time.
What can be done, when with doing, wishes become undone.
When will becomes wrought, and the vents loosen, will it be gone, gone this time, gone for good?
Then it would be, as it was meant to be, where you were you and I were me. Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-50706068237458508222018-06-29T09:46:00.002+05:302018-07-02T01:03:46.641+05:30Soliloquy 1
It began in friendship and turned into a glowing sun.
Strong, bright and eventually explosive. How else could it be described. But to
call it summer time rain, urgent and fresh with the musk of mud. Or maybe
better, would be to call it, the crater at the bottom of the deepest ocean.
Alone and a secret. Locked.
Or maybe the exhilaration of a bird flapping its wings for the
first time, Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-90484735746064034762017-02-03T01:21:00.000+05:302017-02-03T01:21:56.991+05:30Cinammon Powder & Chilly Flakes
With the mish mash mush, we got married. It has been two years since, (almost), but it feels like we're already running out of time, and there in lies my biggest fear. What if a lifetime is not enough?
Throwing that thought out of the window.
Recently, an interaction with an old friend told me something new about myself. Somewhere & some how, Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-73578378466573527942015-02-27T02:08:00.000+05:302015-02-27T02:08:34.828+05:30Rule Uno- Bridezilla Diaries
I think a wedding translates on so many levels, a very complicated, ancient coming of age 'thing'... I call it a thing, because when I have the flu, my general sense of eloquence takes a deep dive into the river of nonsense.
From the dates the wedding was decided, it took only a total of 2.5 months for my bestie to call me bridezilla. Cowering in embarassment, it's taken me a month to forgive Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-75308124857747303262015-02-06T23:20:00.001+05:302015-02-06T23:20:51.353+05:30Discharged This post is for my one reader!
Who reminded me that my 11 year old blog, sat abandoned in the midst of a rapidly growing online universe.
And shocked that I've clocked just one real post for a whole year, trying to think through a number of thoughts, one quick one to pen down, I've realized I've been through a corporate restructure, a promotion and a Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-44633948299215105462014-10-13T00:27:00.004+05:302014-10-13T00:36:46.089+05:30The World as Round as an Indian Murukku!
What is the world when not Indian? In order to truly know and feel the value of spice, you only need to remove spice from the dishes you make. Like Gulab Jamun without the flavour of cardamom, a world without the Indians in them, would fall flat .. that's what I think anyways.
Because I've noticed that on television, these days beautiful brown populates names like Raj or Neeta more on Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-62015627047885783182014-01-26T18:58:00.000+05:302014-01-26T18:59:01.118+05:30Love, Religion and other such things
A new year, a new post and a new future. That's what we all hoped when we brought in the New Year, with our loved ones or maybe for some of us, with our not so loved ones. It doesn't take long for the disillusion to sink in and for you to realize that, really it's just another over hyped day.
Why so sour, you say? Maybe because I've been questioned. My religious faith has been questioned, and Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-55014198821251723452013-07-14T16:43:00.000+05:302013-07-14T16:43:04.028+05:30A Candy Sweet Mental Roadtrip.
A road trip. A trip taken on a vehicle through roads, with the company of your best friends. Carried through by wonderful conversations, sighting beautiful sceneries, living and breathing the same space and air for an undetermined period of time. Yes, a road trip, the most awesome road trip that one can imagine. Absolutely top notch.
Rivers of sticky sugar syrup, trees of gold, lightSarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-32114348868539211532013-06-03T17:37:00.001+05:302013-06-10T23:09:32.208+05:30Shoes of the Dead- Kota Neelima- Book Review
Shoes of the Dead is many things, but what it is not, is a light read. With words carefully string together, Kota weaves a story of our country. A story I suspect, may be more familiar to some, and for city brats like myself, be eye opening.
The story focuses on a small group of individuals: a journalist, a farmer, a politician, a money lender, a village leader, an industrialist's wife.
Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-16446599712328662712013-05-20T23:01:00.000+05:302013-05-20T23:07:52.196+05:30Modern Health Care- No longer a dream of a few
A few years ago, waiting outside a hospital meant several things. That you would invariably be approached by someone professing a loved one needed immediate help, usually either by donating some amount of money or by obtaining medicine from the closest medical shop.
As Indians we learnt early on to not believe these stories at face value and to treat it as yet another case of people weaving Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-44639388870297163792013-05-20T21:01:00.001+05:302013-05-20T21:04:02.000+05:30Anirban Bose- Mice In Men- Book Review
I got this book in our last Indiblogger's meet and well, this rainy weekend had to arrive before I had the intent to actually pick out this book from my magazine rack of books that I'd bought, hadn't read and what a surprise!
This must be one of the best collection on Indian short stories I've read, and I'm surprised that I haven't heard of this author until ofcourse I got the free copy.Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-18645900211353029332013-04-24T18:30:00.001+05:302013-04-24T18:32:07.645+05:30An evening in AgraraI found myself a piece of hidden land this evening, away from the ring road, where one couldn't hear traffic.
Instead there was the desolate noise of the solitary hammer for a home being built.
And yet this home already belonged to little chirpy birds, hovering eagles with their stark cries.
All reaching a feverish pitch as the night crawlers meet their fellow day breakers, in a rushed fluttery Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-91670278687309252152013-04-19T19:06:00.001+05:302013-04-19T19:15:14.396+05:30Tres Semme- J'taime!
I got my sample, and I have to admit it was a bit of a surprise because I'd forgotten I'd applied! But, I'd seen the bottles in the shops and distant memory told me that I remember it to be a brand that was well known outside our country and well had apparently made its entry into the Indian market.
First things first, the smell of the shampoo is beautiful. It resonates the whole day, and you Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-36652657183556930682013-02-25T21:44:00.000+05:302013-02-25T21:44:54.925+05:30Off Products Available in India: Not Tested on Animals- India
A while ago, I turned vegan. It took me three months, to turn myself out of it, but I can safely say, that that experience changed the person in me. It started off with this documentary and hit me hard. Possibly, owning a dog made a difference, the fact that I know him and have realized that 'they' deserve better.
Anyhow, I've never looked at a piece of chicken theSarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9535191.post-82461108086544263662013-02-18T17:19:00.000+05:302013-02-19T21:55:00.322+05:30Empty Space- A Eulogy to Nothing
Empty space in a coloured photograph. Don't you just love empty space. The possibility of filling it with all the things that are loved and that you love, that stand clear of all the objections and the clutter of isms and ideas, thoughts and conscience.
Oh purge, as you will. Purge all your worries and sins, and your teeth and claws with your weapons and guns. Into this empty space that will Sarohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07393545459502930409noreply@blogger.com2