Stand Together

Hyderabadi winters are famous for being warm winters as when compared to the winters of Delhi and Lucknow and the last weekend was very cold brr.....!! So out came all my warm winter clothes from woollen coats to Cashmere shawls (Oh yeah we Hyderabadis have got it all). I wanted to wear and feel winter around me so much that even when it grew humid I refused to take off my coat.  Incidentally my cousins had come from Lucknow and they began sweating see my warm coat and I was still imagining my breath going brr... and my teeth chattering... Wishing it would get colder without me running the risk of getting roasted in my warm clothes.  I would love to change the ending lines of Percy Bysshe Shelley's   "Ode to the West Wind"  - "If winter comes can spring be far behind?" to my own "If winter comes, can winter clothes be far behind?" ;D

Well here is an update on HOPE, the location had shifted a few months ago from the noisy dins of the city to the serene calm of a village. The kids simply love it because now there are no angry khadoos neigbours to ask them to shut up. The children now have their own play ground, kitchen garden and at times even cook outdoors for fun. Just ideal for growing up children. There are four new additions to the brood and guess what they're just four days old and haven't opened their eyes yet. The childrens pet - street dog " Gypsy " who hates taking baths and loves the children laid a litter of four puppies and I was one of those few lucky people whom she allowed near her babies (all thanks to the kids) They're just so tiny! The kids are happy that they have new playmates and I'm happy for them too. Meet the three stars who love posing for the camera. In the picture above you can see Srikanth, Grita and little Anita from the left hand side. They seem to love the ca

Long long time ago in an age far far away...... nope I'm not reciting a fairy tale.  Ahem... Long long time ago in an age far far away (perhaps not so long ago) I used to write poetry which made sense to no one except me. I remember I was in 7th standard, 11 yrs of age. I wrote a small four line poem and showed it to my English teacher. It went something like this "Oh heavenly bodies...." Yep about stars in a sky like any 11 year old would imagine. Coming back to the teacher she didn't believe a single word of what I had wriiten and instead complained to my dear mother that I had copied it from some one. It couldn't have come from my pen she said (I was supposed to be dumbest in the class). Now that was a blow so back then I gave up with my first poem itself. My fingers began to itch once again two years later and this time I didn't show the poems to anyone, kept them secret under lock and key but unfortunately my younger sister found the key and looo.... all

Yesterday was All Soul's Day and I always go to the graveyard where my ancestors are buried to lay flowers on their graves. The newest addition being my Dad's grave. But I'm not going to write about something grave and sad. The graveyard or cemetary where my folks are buried is an ancient one. Every time I take a round in the cemetary I'm amazed (by the way I've been doing this since I was three years old). The old graves are so beautiful and magnificient. Most of them are the graves of Britishers. There is a grave of a certain Mr. James Macphearson next to my grandfather's grave. It has a magnificient Cross and an Angel clinging to the  Cross. Sheer beauty in marble. A bit farther away is the grave of a certain Mrs. Florence Hilliers. She must've been a beautiful woman as her grave has her own statue holding a wreathe standing on it. Brilliant piece of art!  But alas! There is no one who lays flowers on these beautiful graves. I and my sisters always take e