Rain, fog and Sun

In rain, these flowers looked magical.

In these past days when one after another, rain, fog and sun appeared, this week for me has become memorable.

On Monday evening, it rained.

Weather was so pleasant on that day that I who normally hate getting wet in rain, asked my niece to come and join me outside. 

A puddle was formed on street and I didn’t mind standing in it.


Water found its way inside my sneakers and my socks got wet.

At that moment, I looked at my niece who was enjoying playing with leaf in water, she was considering it a boat.

On seeing that, I decided to enjoy the moment anyway and allowed water to find more ways to wet my socks.

Reflection of trees in water on street looked beautiful.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were cold and foggy days. They didn’t allow us to explore much outside.


Even this Saturday morning there was fog in sky but later sun appeared with all its might.

Under the canopy of yellow shine, earth got warm and calm today.

This is an outside view of library. While taking this picture, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of yellow flowers in air.

Sitting in a park observing shades of sunlight on grass, I thought how different facets of Mother Nature has successfully allowed themselves to fuse in a single week.


When it rained, it was cool.

When there was fog, driving was difficult and today with the sprinkle of golden sunshine on earth, each and everything regained its lost vigour.

Divinity in its might is kind and diverse, It has many colors. If a certain day is dull than a next day can become fun.

Brilliant integration of fog, rain and sun has made this week beautiful for me.

Even Jack and Jill while fetching water from well were also looking happy today.

Word of the day: Integrated


Circle of life


This picture is of my third birthday. Lots of memories are associated with it and more than anything else it reminds me of an old reel camera which these days is placed in drawer of my store.

On my this birthday

When we all sit together

Gentle reminder,

Of cherishing a moment

That family made special.


Birthdays are different now but parents know how to make them special. Yesterday, my mother baked this cake for me.


This post is in response to Colleen’s weekly Tanka poetry challenge.

Theme: Circle of Life

My student is making progress.


When mother of my six year old student initially came, she was  worried about her kid who was reluctant to write with her.

Her son was enjoying doing reading at home. He could answer comprehension questions well but when it came to writing, he simply refused to express his thoughts.

Mother wanted my help and I was eager to try.

On first day, before starting our class, I took him to window and asked him to explain what he was seeing outside, he replied that the grass was green and the sky was blue with white fluffy clouds in it.

It was our warm-up session. After he did reading from manual, I encouraged him to move toward workbook and worksheets.

At first, he got confused because I was asking him to do something which was a least favourite thing for him.

In order to show my love for him, I gave him a quick hug which brought smile on his face. Later, I asked him to give me a high-five so that I could check his energy level.

He liked that activity.


Before start of the class when I was going through this worksheet, I prepared some questions that could help him in writing better about picture but it didn’t require much effort on my part as being a kid, he loved imagining what was going on in a house and wrote about a person who was sleeping in it.


This, I’m poem he composed is lovely and close to my heart.

I’m happy that my student is enjoying doing writing with me.

I’m small and my age is six.

I wonder why the sun is shiny?

I hear your secret.

I see a walking monster.

I want a new pencil box.

I’m small and my age is six.

I pretend to be a spider man.

I feel hot.

I touch pencil.

I worry that shopkeeper won’t give me a bat.

I cry when my sister hits me.

I’m small and my age is six.

Lion and a mouse


While lying in a bed, my sister asked her three-year-old some questions. The conversation between mother and daughter went something like this

Mother: If you’re walking in a jungle and a lion comes, what would you do?

Daughter: (with confidence) I’ll beat him so hard with hanger that he’ll start bleeding.

Mother: (trying to put her daughter in different situation) what would you do if you’ll find mouse there?

Daughter: (quite innocently) I’ll run fast and come to you.

Mother: (Now put her five-year-old son in a scenario) what would you do if you’ll find Ayan in jungle?

Daughter: (again with confidence) we will both take out our lighters and will start looking for lion in a jungle.

Baking cakes


Today, when Rio Olympics concluded with many new records, New Zeland athlete won fair play award and great Usin Bolt was on cloud nine when he walks away with his three gold medals.

Much like all these achievements in Olympic history of 2016, my mother is also happy.

It took her three failed attempts and finally her sponge cake is in perfect shape.


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She loves doing baking and the most interesting aspect of her baking is the fact that she’s never satisfied with the result. She’s not perfectionist but she’s always looking for improvement in her work.

In initial failed attempts of baking sponge cake, I saw a restlessness on her face.

After applying the layer of jam, it happened twice that the moment she tried to fold it, it loses its shape. It was a long time that she last baked the sponge cake and she was sure that she was missing something. She searched the whole internet and finally she remember that while folding the layer of cake she needed to keep it in a piece of cloth.

That was sure a “eureka” moment for her. So, yes she’s happy and I’m impressed because in studies and in real life, she wants us to opt similar approach. There’s one thing she would love to say

“Never think that you’re done and you have done something extraordinary, for there’s always a room for improvement.”

These are all different flavors of home made special cakes 🙂




Proud Mother


The lady cradling her new born child in a picture is my mother and the other woman whose arm is visible as if she’s pointing at something was my grandmother. I can assume that my grandmother was looking anxious about the head of the newborn which was quite high in my mother’s arm.

It was the warm and calm day of March 1982 when this picture was taken.

There are many old pictures in my home but I like this most. It has this magical sensation that every time when I’m down in dumps, a look at the sunlit veranda and the mere glimpse of the shades of leaves on the wall behind my mother, rejuvenates my soul and sensing the pride in the eyes of young mother and feeling the confidence in her posture makes me smile.

Standing in front of Pomelo tree and holding her first born child, my mother is looking proud of herself.


A post of reminiscence

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This picture was taken in early 1960’s. Those were some early day of my grandparents’ married life.

Writers mostly avoid using adjectives in their writings but my grandmother was such a beautiful, kind and caring soul that for the sake of her, I can write hundreds of adjectives here.

I remember those long winter nights when we kids used to snuggle on her bed and while reminiscing about her past she would get sad but as the dreariness of cold night tried to cast its spell so did she, for while narrating stories from her past, her voice remained firm and calm.

At the time of her marriage, she was young and naive but in all her life she remained thankful to her husband who taught her to read and write. At times, when she was in mood she would tell us that due to her fair complexion she never cared much about doing makeup and would feel contend to have Tibet snow cream and red lipstick as her only makeup accessories.

Staying at home and taking care of seven kids, she didn’t find much time for herself and whenever my grandfather would buy clothes for her, she would gladly wore colors of his choice.

She was admired for her far-sightedness. In all her life, she never saw the face of school but learnt a lot from her experiences. Once, sitting with my sisters, I was joking and praying that something bad would happen to my old mobile set so that I could get free from its burden when she heard me and in her strong voice interrupted and said,

“Mobiles are not meant to show off. There only purpose is to receive and make a call.”

Such was her vision about life and such was her simplicity that despite all difficulties in her life, she remained thankful to the blessings of Allah Almighty.

The day she died, I thought that life would never be same and today after one year when I have finally found some time to sit and contemplate, I’m wishing that something might have changed but everything seemed to remain same.

In all these past months, I wanted to stop and take rest but as weeks melt into months and months are turning into years, I’m finding little and no time to contemplate.

Life is cruel, it goes on and so do we.

Baby birds

baby birds

Those were some warm days of June 2015 when I took these pictures and today while going through some of my older posts, I decided to share them again. In my house there’s a lamp above the car porch and the Bulbul bird thought it would be a nice place to design her nest.

For some days the father and mother birds preferred to remain closer to their nest and one night when mother bird finally decided to spent her time in her home, I made a reckless mistake.

In my excitement to capture the moment, I quietly mounted a stool and slowly took my camera closer to the nest but what happened next is a history, for the bird got frightened and left her nest.

My parents were angry, for in the middle of the night my act of capturing a picture has created a whole trouble and I was so embarrassed that the whole night I continued watching a dream about a bird.

Luckily, in the morning the birds were back and I took a sigh of relief. For, previous night everyone at home was so angry that I was considering myself to be a culprit 🙂

In the next days I remained conscious and with some help from my mother, I succeeded in capturing these pictures.





My parents weren’t satisfied so they made this protective layer of cloth beneath the lamp.


In this whole process of making a nest safe the birds made a lot of noise.


After some days of finishing this stunt of making a protective layer, I decided to look for eggs.The shape of the nest was such that despite standing on the ladder, I wasn’t able to look inside. So, I took my camera closer and clicked the button. Once, I got down I was happy to see the picture of these eggs.


After some days of wait the baby birds finally arrived.


They were pink and featherless.


Within days they were big and they looked ready to fly.

The shades of life


I’ve found that sunlight never ceased to show its presence in literature. It can exist in many forms and it’s capable of eliciting different moods in reader. For, the yellow rays of mellow sun are a symbol of hope and love while dull rays of setting sun can become a hint of death and despair.

Thomas Hardy in his novel The Return of the native describes the beauty of Thomasin’s hair. He says

“The sun, where it could catch it, made a mirror of Thomasin’s hair, which she always wore braided. It was braided according to a calendric system: the more important the day the more numerous the strands in the braid.”

Khalid Husseni the author of The kite runner writes this beautiful paragraph. The hint of setting sun precedes some tragic and horrific events in a story.

“Rahim khan slowly uncrossed his legs and leaned against the bare wall in the wary, deliberate way of a man whose every movement triggers spikes of pain. Outside a donkey was braying and someone was shouting something in Urdu. The sun was beginning to set, glittering red through the cracks between the ramshackle buildings”.

Again, Charles’ Dickens in his novel The tale of two cities describes the arrival of cruel Marquis in these words.

“Monsieur the Marquis in his travelling carriage (which might have been lighter), conducted by four post-horses and two postilions, fagged up a steep hill. A blush on the countenance of Monsieur the Marquis was no impeachment of his high breeding; it was not from within; it was occasioned by an external circumstance beyond his control—the setting sun. The sunset struck so brilliantly into the travelling carriage when it gained the hill-top, that its occupant was steeped in crimson. ‘It will die out,’ said Monsieur the Marquis, glancing at his hands, ‘directly.’”

I’m not good at taking pictures but I can’t resist capturing different shades of sunlight.


December sun was looking kind and the leaves were looking majestic in its shade.


My cousin thought it would be a perfect pose.


Maybe that was this white sunlight that inspires me to capture this picture.


A stroll down memory lane

On drawing the curtains of my memory aside, I had always found myself playing with my siblings.


Our home was a place filled with toys and to be honest my parents remained more interested in imparting the love for books in us. So, the gift on my sixth birthday was not a toy but it was a children magazine.

It was a time when I was learning to read and my parents thought that a magazine would be a nice gift for me.

I remember, once my parents bought us some books which include a book of Ladybird’s series of learning time and then there was a colorful book about the villages of Asia. I wish I could have them today but I’m lucky to find this picture on Google.


The pleasure of reading and feeling the pages of those books is difficult to express in words and never in my life, I had ever come closer to such an experience again. For, kids tend to develop a strong bond with the pictures and I can vividly recall the colorful illustrations of those books.

Well, I won’t like to appear Matilda here but the prompt reminds me of those sweet days of my life when I find pleasure in reading books and truth be told, for a long time I can’t sleep without listening to stories. Yes, my elder sister was a great storyteller.

One thing more it’s not an exaggeration that never in my life I had ever sighed for some toy. For, my parents had always kept us busy in reading books and I guess they were wise enough in taking that decision 🙂