She is the muse of every artist; Tresses that hide the darkness of the night Caress the cheeks as tendrils, And ward off all the devils They sway in rhythmic motion, As she walks in cadence like a poem Her veil is a poet’s imagination; It is every lover’s adulation Am I in a dream or is it reality; For she is the epitome of sensuality
This post won the Indiblogger Dove Guessing Game with my friend contest I had returned home early from work. Early in the software world means 5:30 in the evening with the sun having already set on a wintry eventide. I had clients visiting us and had to take them out for dinner.
Dear Hubby, It has been more than a decade since we have been married. Ours being an inter-caste and interstate was more of a rushed and simple affair. There were differences between the two families that took its time to resolve. Our marriage was eventful with twists and turns and also surprises some not very pleasant.
Courtesy http://blog.flickr.net I wake up to the soothing chants of Suprabatham by M.S. Subbalakshmi playing in the background. Well it was 6 a.m. and I opened my eyes to be greeted by the sun streaming into my room. The curtains had parted and the mood in the room was transformation, well that was the setting I had done yesterday night before falling asleep. My faithful domestic, Jasper knocks the door with a steaming cup of coffee.
Sitting in the balcony of my terrace I watched the rain splatter down the roads. It was the year’s first shower in Pune. The initial rain is always nostalgic and always takes you down the memory lane. The aroma of wet mud is so very tempting and overwhelming. I find it difficult to refrain myself from swallowing some and for that matter I can’t blame the kids.
Dear Kavya, Hope you are doing well. I am sure as usual you would be well prepared for your forthcoming exams. My best wishes are always with you. Just yesterday I was thinking that soon you would be out of college. Now that you have spent two decades of your life in your academics I am sure you would have learnt a lot. You have always been well read and up to date with the latest happenings.
Hair Stories Silky ran across the meadows; For she was solemn Her hair hath not grown long; But were a tangled mess Her mother oiled and combed; Tried to manage the unmanageable She pulled and tugged the mane; But they belonged to Wild Wild West
Saris have always intrigued me, this simple rectangular fabric that is six yards long attire that conceals every woman’s flaw and at the same time accentuates the best curves. Do we call it an enigma? This unstitched piece of cloth hugs on to your body and adds grace, feminine look to the individual. As one wraps, folds and tucks this beautiful creation it brings out the sensuousness of the lady. So when Shoppers Stop came up with The Perfect Look competition I decided to check out their saris…
Hmmmm…. suddenly it was very quiet. She had been narrating a story which has been my favorite, Little Krishna’s antics. It was the one where his mother tied him to a mortar. I never get tired listening to it. Probably she had gone off to sleep for I could hear the rhythmic sound of breathing and nothing else. I decided to stay still as I didn’t want to disturb her. It looked as if she had had a long day. Well it sure would be, now…