Suddenly one day a woman arrived at the house, all alone and since then a hush fell in the family.

The next morning I made the awful discovery of leaving my chappals back at my hotel, then looking under my seat I got the shock of my life.

At times we may be compelled to accept the reality, but can we always convince our minds ?

A Wait is never over, no matter how long we had been waiting, being well aware of the futility of it.

No matter what happens life never stops; perhaps this is the greatest reality about life.

Buying flat, TV, motorbike on credit can still be understood, but groceries ?

We fail to realize that happiness is a state of mind, not a commodity which can be purchased at the tap of a button.

My wife turned out to be no less a shopaholic than my father. I can hardly forget my ordeal at 'Big Bazaar' the first Sunday of every month.

I don't understand how horror, thriller, romance, comedy are different categories in storytelling.

Whether someone accepts/ rejects you outright, it doesn't necessarily have to be that you've been told the truth.

The need of the hour is to fight the war not to eliminate others and establish our supremacy but to stop the backward evolution.

My mornings started at Kolkata with a singing saint of Bengal belting out a devotional number in his coarse, lilting voice.

After all these years some people have only turned into a few dates in our calendar; some days have only added to our list of holidays.

Despite being oiled and combed well the hairs stood like coiled ropes on his head in disobedience, as if in testimony to the name he earned.

Even when we reflected upon his behavior during those days, we didn't find it to be a bit formal or faked owing to differences in religion.

True love transcend the borders of personal gratification and mingles with greater love for humanity.

All these confrontations with emotions, sublimation of reality into dreams; how can a poet write unless he bleeds ?

When devotion empowers love to rise above human desires a poet's verses becomes immortal.

If we want to confess our feelings we better hurry for time flows away like an impatient river leaving us yearning our entire lives.

This poem tells about the purity of platonic love; one which involves only the soul.