Poem : Pluviophile

I love you.
I love the way you touch,
Moist and cool and filled with joy.

I love you.
I love the way you smell,
Fragrance that makes my heart swell.

I love you.
I love the marks you leave.
Just the thoughts of which gifts peace of mind.

I love you.
Though I don't like your friends all that much,
Your friends are too loud and scary.

I have always loved you,
Right from the days I learnt to sense and feel.
I love you, rain

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Book Review : Scion Of Ikshvaku

Author : Amish Tripathi Genre : Mythological Fantasy Published On : 22 June 2015 Watch trailer on Youtube Buy Online! As the makers put it, this first installment of the Ram Chandra series is the most awaited literary blockbuster of the year. The frenzied wait had its effect on me, as I had pre-ordered a copy, days before its release. Obviously, the most weighted factor which prompted me into this craze was The Shiva Trilogy, the previous work of the boring banker turned happy author. Shiva Trilogy achieved its cult status for two major reasons: a) the plot being discussed offered a welcome change from the modern day love stories that had mushroomed up in the post Chetan era. b) The author had meticulously researched through Vedas and other ancient texts, and had reconstructed the very image of Shiva, into a very capable man rather than a miracle performing God. To quote the First City, Amish had succeeded on reintroducing Hindu mythology to the youth of t

Chennai Tidbits

‘2/14, Salvation Army Guest House, Doveton St, Chennai’ this address followed by a ten digit phone number was all that I had of Mr. Nageshwar Rao, who was to become my roommate in my new 'home' that Chennai was. Vipin Das is my name, an employee of All India Radio, and I had been transferred from New Delhi to Chennai only a few days ago. So there I was, just outside the Chennai Central, drained and haggard after the grueling train journey that gifted me two sleepless nights. I approached an auto-rickshaw with baggage in my hands, and showed him the address I had. He asked me to get in, and I was traveling through the South Indian metro, a first time in my life. It was only six in the morning, and the city was just waking up. Some young professionals, probably long distance commuters, security guards, newspaper boys on cycle, trucks and light traffic were all I could see on road. I took out that card and dialed Mr. Rao. No response. Maybe he was still sleeping. After all, it

The Plan

The son went and sat near his father. “It’s been a while, dad. How are things going?” “It really has been a while, hasn’t it? I stopped following time since God knows when.” “That’s quite unbecoming of you, dad. For what I know, you were someone who used to measure time and plan accordingly. Shall I say shrewd?” “I prefer meticulous. And yes, I used to measure time – every ounce of it. Each of my actions were prudently strategic. I wanted the best for myself and my folks.” “Are you telling me even I were a result of your deliberate planning? Interesting.” “You? Of course. Especially you. There was a time when my whole life was centered on you. I have had immense plans for you, even before you were born. Do you think you just happened to be born in the month of May?” “I am quite familiar with the nine months’ infancy phase, dad. I believe that though I came out only in May, I began to exist sometime in August, perhaps.” “That’s a way to look at it, righ

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