Nurturing a Young Blogger and Reader

My son and I have much in common – from our introvert temperament to love for reading and writing. Last summer during a long Covid19 lockdown in India, which was labelled by some media houses as one of the toughest, my son asked me about blogging. I explained it was an online journal, diary, or a place to share thoughts and stories and engage with like-minded followers.

I told him I used to blog and can set up a blog for him. That is how I restarted blogging in an all-new blog space, which is this, and he got a brand new blog – www.blackpenstrokes.wordpress.com. What I find endearing is that he still writes his “private journal” by hand. Though, I know it’s more to do with his love for stationery; again something he has acquired from me!

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Addiction

My mind melts, like ice on sherbet
Under a pink moon
In a summer glaze
A resolve that breaks
A resilience that fails
Poison on the rocks
Trickling into nooks
Golden liquid, crimson tears
Soothing with shallow intoxication
Pain of the mind, not of the soul!

Book Review: The Great Indian Novel

An Exercise in Self-Indulgence or a Supremely Intellectual Modern Satire

While going through a spate of reading mythological literature and fiction, I came across Amazon’s recommendation to read Shashi Tharoor’s The Great Indian Novel. Curiosity made me purchase the novel and few pages into the book I was recommending it to all readers with similar book interests. The intricacies of word play and the liberal usage of intelligent pun made this a humorous and enthralling read. It stands high on the pedestal of a modern satire and is impressive.

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Balancing Act

I am wandering, wondering
How to balance life
To surrender or strive
To capture the moment
Or let the memories fly by!
In the space between thoughts
Where I often feel lost
I am seeking answers
To saunter, gallop, or stop?

Daily Grind

Sublime requests
Of my creative mind
Overturned by demands
Of a cerebral strife.
Shackled to cubicles,
Paints and brushes
Paper and ink
Yarn and hooks
Painfully exchanged
For butter and bread.
Amusing musings
Garrulous silence
Thoughts playing
Hide and seek in
My restive mind
Wanting to break free
Of the daily grind.
Unfinished pages now
Brittle and yellow
Mocking blank canvas
Waiting for a splatter
Of pictures and words.
My mind is where
I left the crochet hook
An unfinished work
I can’t wait to unravel
Start the lace afresh
As new patterns emerge.

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