dreams are made of..

you comprise of stars and shadows, and make both seem awesome.


you sprinkle rain drops, which trickle to form tiny trinkets on petals, when my world seems too big and boggling.



you create miracles when my heart grows devoid of wonder.

and then I amuse myself, pondering, what dreams may be made of?

Shravan..

There is this something endearing about the month of August and Shravan, about cold rainy nights and faith.. and about Janmastami and Ganesh Chaturthi.

When mum stays up until 12 o’clock at night and is all glad about it too, the aroma of jaggery and agarbatti fills the house, a funny feeling makes one feel fine :) that is when we mortals believe, God would be born, again!


When water proof canopies are raised by men who, at times, have leaking roofs in their own homes..
when cacophonous, cranky old speakers blare hymns throughout the day, and then exhausted, at a melodiously low speaker volume late into the night..
when little children, swelling with pride, serve as volunteers to escort elders in and out of pandals, place the prasad on each ones palms..
when the grin on an old man’s face seems to somehow make you believe, that God certainly shall stay in his house for a few days, that’s when you’d know, it is Ganesh Chaturthi!