Write to live, Live to write
Every year, as the old year draws to an end and the new year stands expectantly outside our door, just waiting to be let in, I get these uncontrollable pangs of excitement. I am as nervous as a dancer about to make her first public appearance and as giddy as a little kid going to Disneyland for the first time.
There are books you pick up because the title intrigues you.
And then there are books you pick up because you are a fundamentally optimistic person who believes: “Surely this won’t be as bad as the last one.” (Also, it’s available for free in the Audible Plus catalogue, so how bad could it be?)
That confidence did not age well! 
If you’re quick to judge, quicker to insert your own truth, You’re not listening. If you say, “I know exactly how you feel,” Then talk about yourself, You’re not listening.
Today I needed a gentle hug, I needed to bask in some warm sunshine. Outside was dark and bleak and sad, So, I looked into this heart of mine. But it was just as dark in there, And cracked, and bruised and broken. But through it all I caught a glance, Of all the memories I had stored within.
In John Marrs' 'Keep it in the Family', the thrills are thrilling and the crimes are chilling. And, yet, it was a letdown. There's a special place in hell for books that accumulate every single hackneyed trope imaginable. This book made me very angry and I need to vent.
The day stands on the threshold of dusk. Pale pink is giving way to peach then orange. The chirping of birds falls away to create absolute silence. It feels like the world has been paused. The only sound I can hear is the gentle creak of my hammock as it swings from side to side: left-right, left-right, left-right …
What is hope? Some people think of it as an endless reservoir that supplies you with an unlimited amount of hope throughout your life. I think of it as something that is born, something that can die, and something that can be killed, too.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. There is no telling where you might suddenly bump into an old memory tucked away in some dark, less-frequented recesses of your brain or what might suddenly trigger off an almost dramatic flashback sequence.
A late night show. A horror movie that pays homage to a cult classic 'The Exorcist'. An actor like Russel Crowe. And two horror buffs looking to be scared out of their skin. Seems like a plan for a ghoulish evening. What could possibly go wrong? Apparently a lot!
Delhi summers! An instrument of torture. A thing of horrors. It drives you stark, raving mad, robs you of hope and happiness, leaves you a husk of your former self! So, what does one do to hold on to sanity? Well, this one creates a bigger suffering ... with her poetry!
Fireflies and Fairylights 