ChirpyQuill

Yesterday as I went to bed  A voice in my mind said  It’s ten on your watch but wait girl it’s really nine So go see that TV show and sip some wine You’ll get an extra hour of sleep So mute that alarm when it beeps Then in the morning I woke at seven But wait said my brain it’s just six I just gained an hour of time  Which is so absolutely fine Then when the sun set at four I didn’t  want that extra hour of sleep  anymore Give me some more sunshine And I promise I won’t whine                              ……….Leena

                                                                              Walking along the wet shore, I saw fine lines in the sand— delicate borders, as if a canvas had been stretched, waiting to be painted. A few steps further, footprints emerged—large, small, even seagulls had left their mark, scattered all over wet sand. Further still, I watched the waves arrive and retreat, softly erasing some lines, etching new ones in their place. I paused. "Hats off to the wet sand," I thought. What strength it must take to receive every impression— and still remain soft. My heart filled with gratitude. One moment, I marveled at the beauty of those lines. The next, I searched for them— gone without warning. Life, too, is like wet sand: nothing is permanent. Waves come and go, ...

"Papa, can I have a hug?" The question came from a small, ten-year-old voice. I looked down to see my daughter’s face, a storm cloud of frustration with tears welling in her eyes. I smiled, opened my arms, and pulled her into an embrace. As I held her, I could feel the tension in her small frame melt away. When she pulled back, the storm had passed, replaced by a bright, beaming smile that erased every trace of her anger and sadness. That was my first profound lesson in the power of a simple hug. Now, she is a young woman, and though the reasons for her tears have changed, she still seeks out that same quiet comfort in my arms from time to time. Years later, the roles were reversed, and it was I who was shattered. The day I lost my job, a first in my career, I walked home in a daze of uncertainty and fear. My son, then fifteen, found me. "Dad? You're home early." The simple question broke through my composure. Taking a shaky breath, I told him the truth. "I...

Lately, I've been reflecting on the wave of viral videos that flood our timelines.The Coldplay concert couple, someone dancing,singing, eating with their hands on a subway, someone tossing something in a wooded area. Are these really moments for public consumption? Sure, behaviors can be unusual or inappropriate depending on the setting. But does that give a random bystander the higher moral ground to record and broadcast it to millions? What happens between two individuals,as long as it’s within the confines of law,should remain just that: between them. It reminds me of the time I used to travel to the city for work. Every day on the path there was a man who talked loudly on his phone, clearly annoying everyone. One day, someone finally called him out. Embarassed,he got off at the next station to finish his call. That moment was enough to teach him a lesson . No cameras, hashtags, or public shaming. Imagine if someone had filmed him instead, posted it, and made him a meme. We forg...

Every year since the time my daughter was eight I have been writing a poem for her.  As she was turning 14 this year, I thought she was too old for a poem from her mom. But around 10 days back, she asked me “ Mom. I hope you started writing my poem for my birthday.” “Aren’t you too old? I asked her. Of course, not, she said I do want a poem for my birthday this year too And so I started penning now a poem and gave it to her today … of course with other gifts!! You’re fourteen years today, a milestone so grand You now speak in a language I hardly understand Baffling words like lowkey, skibbidi and sigma Your language for me is truly an enigma Sometimes your room, it makes me pull my hair in despair The clothes on the floor look at me and say “Clean up this room if you dare”  Don’t know when those tiny hands always holding a book are now never seen without a phone  So over the years, how did I change from mama to “mom” to “bro”  Maybe that’s something I’ll never unders...

A remarkably uninteresting looking woman. Grey- ish hair, sharp features, worries and concerns of a life that I will never know about… she sat there across the bar. Neither smiling nor frowning. Slowly eating her grey food, dressed in her grey cardigan. She had braved to sit at a bar by herself, risking attention or, worse still, no attention. She knew the flames of loneliness her life had been consigned to. Others had to catch up, or not.  She moved slowly. Her hands navigating the food, very deliberately. It was in slow motion. Was she sad ? was she lonely? was she content? was she… something. It was hard to know.  It brought me back to some early morning hours at at safari in Africa. An adult lion ambling though the savannah, just as slowly as this woman was eating her food. All other animals were in groups, the Zebras, the Wildebeasts, even birds.. they all had something in common, friends. Not the Lion. Not her across the bar. Not me even, today at-least, I reflected as I...

In October 2023 I had written an article called AAA which was an exploration into well rounded fitness. I termed it, Aesthetically Astute Athleticism. I had felt a need to direct the athletic endeavors that I had seen a lot of us engaging in, towards a more holistic approach. I had felt that looking like a healthy and fit athlete was just as important as being one.  That actually ended up becoming the start of a journey. Since then, we have executed two Boot Camps, engaging a few dozen accomplished runners who doubled down on Strength Training in the winter months. We exchanged experiences, notes, workout videos, dietary ideas, Podcasts and our own reflections. Each one of us involved, went through our own evolution as endurance athletes with an eye towards aesthetics and long term health outcomes. In some way we took the first tentative steps from endurance runners to genuinely fit individuals. Along the way, we learnt a lot as we zeroed in on what ideal fitness was about and the ...

  Everyone has heard of the phrase. It takes a village to raise a kid. However, what does it take for someone to be successful at work?  Long hours at work?  Yes, definitely. Education, Experience, and Expertise in what to do? Yes, for sure. All those are needed to succeed at work. But what about the invisible factors that attribute towards one’s success? What about those unseen never acknowledged people that are the backbone, contributing towards a person‘s success at work?  Recently two famous personalities had become viral when they promoted a 70 and 90 hour a week work culture. While I would reserve my views on that, what about the people who actually want to work to kind of hours? Who takes care of their family while they work those insane hours? Who takes care of stuff at their home? Who takes care of their kids if they do decide to have a family? In most cases, it would perhaps be a housewife or homemaker as I like to call them who takes care of stuff for them...

  You nod, you always says yes You're made to feel guilty if you take some rest  You continue to give, you continue to serve You lift others while you fall All you want is some praise from the ones you love So over the years you give up your dreams You hold your tongue to keep the peace You wear a smile but you're scared of their frown You know there's no one for you when you're feeling down One day you'll realize true love doesn't bind And its not always good to be so kind One day you'll know not every hand deserves your grace And its your OWN dreams that you need to chase                      .........Leena