Wayfarer's window!

In my city, I came across another tide of migrants leaving the mountain country in search of employment. Mostly uneducated men, they may find unskilled and semi skilled jobs in another country, and send a meager sum home to sustain their family. When the men leave their homes, the women fend for their families and fireplaces. If the men do well, they will get their families to join them. With the little money or the family migration, the women and children may find a life which is a shade better. Some women are not so fortunate. Caught in the dual dividend of gender and poverty, many women of Nepal have been swamped in the vortex of shame and subjugation;and find themselves living in the earthly hells called brothels and prisons. Smothered by this dark quagmire surrounding women and their children, two front line women heroes have arisen. Women, who felt they should not be sitting and sulking, but should start doing their own bit to make a differenc...

I was in the fifth grade in 1980, and my classroom had a big poster of ABBA members all dressed in white standing in front of a helicopter. Music did not interest me much then; the outdoor games, "horse" fights among the boys, football matches and walks along a forest trail were more fun. ABBA remained just a memory of a poster in the wall. A couple of years later, we were preparing for the school music competition.I somehow was made to be a part of the choir for the group song. Some teacher liked my tenor voice and got me included. While I was happy to merge my voice with thirty others in the group song, Carol would be representing our house for the solo song. She was rehearsing "The winner takes it all". It seemed at that time to be the best song I have ever heard. For the first time the acronym ABBA meant music to me. I may have heard ABBA off and on then; as for many years I was not much musically inclined. A few years ago, I came across a collection of s...

Pictures from Kalimpong, India

My daughter is growing up fast. I am counting the years before she is ready to leave us. I want somehow to stop the clock; there are just so many things that I want to do with her. Since I cannot stop time, I would like to give the best of myself to my daughter in the remaining time I have. Each moment seems precious. I long to spend her after school hours with her. Help her with her projects and homework. Watch some good movies with her. Go and help her explore the beautiful and wonderful world around.Help her with her poems, listen to her songs, compliment her drawings. Tell her about Aung san Su Ki, Margaret Thatcher  Mother Teresa, Florence Nightingale, Marie Curie and the constellation of great women who have impacted the world. I want her to be ready when she steps out into the world on her own. Ready to have her roots deep down and wings ready for soaring the heavens. Here's a song from Abba, which conveys my feelings, as I watch my daughter gro...

Dear Susan, I call you by your first name. A sign of  liberty that I have taken of considering you a friend. I met you many years ago, through your poem on the inside tattered cover of a dog-eared, hands-me-down devotional. It touched me, stirring my new found faith in Jesus and gave me a simple understanding of how God speaks.I memorized the poem then, and now, twenty five years later, type it here from memory. "When a message from God, could clear the confusion, He could write on the wall, or give an illusion, But the writing that's there, is clear to be seen, Its a simple crayon drawing, I've yet got to clean. Lord, help me believe, that I wont be receiving, a miraculous sign, wrought by believing, When each day I see and yet don't apply, Your simple message looking me, straight in the eye." While my search for more of your poems will continue, I just wanted to thank you today.Thank you  for penning your poems so they are a blessing to unknow...

My two year old son's his first Lego set, a Christmas gift from his Danish cousins, got me curious about the Lego story.  Here's sharing my sons photos and the Lego story.

It started when  a dash of pink on a distant tree caught my attention. There a precariously perched orchid plant invited me to zoom my camera lens and capture a picture. Later when I visited a nearby town, I was captivated by the array of colors and variety of orchids. Being no botanist, I have taken the liberty to give each brilliant species a name of my own. Orchids on a distant tree Close up-wild orchid butter babies Fireflames Nectar chalice Pink anthem Yellow waves Raindrops at dusk Pink emotions flurry symphony Rage of the Gods I told you I love you perfect notes softly spoken

A brilliant short animation by pixar. Simply superb. Liked it enough to pen a poem. Sparkling, at my share of the sun. Greedy, believing to be the sole proprietor of brilliant life, I chuckle at you, my distant cousin. You, darker than dusk, sitting in  my shadows. Brooding at a distance, with the sole company  of distant stars only on a cloudless sky, to bring you some cheer. Till we meet, in twilight and exchange, the fiery globe for  the pale listless moon, and realize that our fates are entwined, because you and I, are night and day!