Philosophical Much

With all sorts of festivities around the corner, people can be spotted glaring the calendar, comparing the red dates to the blue/black ones, scribbling down dates and frantically accessing train/flight/bus booking apps on their phones. I wonder how much those companies would be earning this time of the year. Anyways, that would put me off topic, not to mention I am simply awful at finances. Well, coming back, with festivities round the corner, I too am frenetically looking for loop holes in the calendar system so that I can walk up to my boss and avail that leave when everybody in the entire office is on leave. When I finally managed to find a date, I gathered up courage to walk up to her to ask for a two day leave. She looked up at me with those non-contemplating eyes as if trying to make up the meaning of the word holiday/leave/Diwali. After about 5 seconds of a staring competition, she decided that it might be against her reputation to not know the meaning of the words; soon aft...

The beloved monsoon has finally arrived. Every nook and corner of the city is alive with the scent of fresh wet green leaves; sometimes the scent is interlaced with the invigorating aroma of ginger-tea and hot onion bajiyas. As the city comes out on the streets to celebrate, there is someone in some corner of the city longing to be home, to be eating those bhajiyas with a house full of people they grew up with, and to be home at last. As children jump in those puddles and enjoy the splashes cool water all over their face, one face drips with tears of longing. The rain, for that heart, is the tale of its woe and lonesomeness. The rain drops recite a different poem for a heart in pain. When the rains pour down heavily on the barren lands, splashing drops are hurt by the unperturbed cracks in the soil. The cries of a million drops are heard as music by plenty, some know of the agony they face to soften a hard heart. Pain never dies out completely. Like any other energy, it can only ...