Words of a Lunatic Scribbler

''Waan waaan'' ''Dad I want this balloon,please daddy.'' ''Peek-a-boo'' ''That's my candy, don't touch it.'' I stood there silently surrounded by the innocence of these children enjoying their salad of life: CHILDHOOD. A baby crying, a small child pleading for a mere balloon, a kid playing peek-a-boo with her mom and two little sibling fighting over a candy, its all messed up, but my eyes see something else in it, an essence of spring that they have in them that we dont have anymore. Childhood is a very tender time where we get the opportunity to mould ourselves into whatever we want. It happens with everyone, being a kid we want to live a life as an adult but thats a child's fantasy, but as we grow up healing wounds of betrayal, stitching the torn cloth of failure, jumping over the huddles of life, we understand the value of those 15 years that we left behind chasing the fantasy of becoming an adult. Now...

''Travelling back to home from school in my dad's favorite car,driver uncle made me sit on the front seat. I dont know why he started touching my thighs, I was only telling him what happened in the school but he touched me everywhere and I was just numb. Should I tell my mom about it? Or should I be silent?'' These were the unspoken words of a girl molested by her family driver. The little girl travelling back to home in a classy car belonging to a high class family facing such kind of situation. Lust donot see age,class or place. Every minute one or the other child is been molested by our so called ''Elder'' breed of humans. How can someone do this to these little ones? The world is full of such kind of people who are blind in lust, but here comes the real catch, may be one cannot completely end the existance of such kind of people but as we know ''Precaution is better than cure.'' So seeing the current situation of our civilization...

I stood there silently as students got down the bus. There was a kind of hustle bustle among those young minds. Smileless faces, eyebrows centred to forehead, a vibe of tension drove through the scene. I stood there silently trying to understand what was actually going on. Tensed faces,sad faces, aggressive faces flashed infront of me. Time passed by and a man came infront and placed a slap on the innocent face, I couldn't understand why? Some other people joined and started hitting the two innocent men. I stood there silently seeing the horrifying scene still couldnot figure out what was going on? Hitted badly, bleeding and wiping hard, negative energy spread through out the space. I stood there silently as I was a mere 'tree' watching the whole scene without uttering a word in pain. I wanted to know the difference between the men at the both end of the stick. All I could figure out was- one was wearing good clothes and the other was in worn out clothes. May be this is ...

Life, many people have defined this word as life is a race. Yes it is definitely a race but for me I would define life as a canvas, a plain canvas. We all are placed on the earth for a purpose and that purpose is to paint the canvas and finish the painting of life. Eleanor Powell once said: ''What we are is God’s gift to us. What we become is our gift to God.'' That is exactly how life works. Our beginning point i.e. our birth is fixed but where we lead ourselves is totally in our hands. We have the hues and paint brush, all we have to do is choose the right colour and paint our heart out. Life is not as hard as a race but it is as beautiful and meaningful as a painting. -A Lunatic Scribbler.   

As the airplane landed on the land of dreams, a vibe of positivity ran through my veins. The city welcomed me with rain. The rain of Bombay is different, as the rain drops ran down my skin I felt really fresh. The people of Mumbai, popularly known as the Mumbaikars are really open minded and are free from everything, even though each and everyone is struggling for something or the other they manage to keep an energizing smiles on their pretty faces. The best part of this ''Mayanagri'' is everyone is busy, there are really no nights. All have kept themselves busy in some kind of work irrespective of their age & gender. And to add to the Mumbaikars' glory-everyone is filmy. No doubt the land of Bollywood influences the very cell of mumbaikars' bodies. Starting from the black and yellow taxi drivers to the hotel staffs all are Bollywood lovers and are full of energy. The Pav Bhaji and Vada Pav created an impression on my taste buds. The Gateway of India, ...

''I want to do journalism...'' A single sentence which shakened my whole family tree. My decision became a breaking news for my relatives and the so called well wisher society. Just because I stood up and raised my voice for my own decision doesnot mean that I am against my family and it doesnot at all mean that my mom and dad have given me extra freedom, its just that they care for me and trust me unlike the society where you have to force the child into IIT even though he or she isnt interested. Such a weird thinking that a journalist is a person who runs behind celebrities and politicians with a mic and a camera. Seriously here I can say ''little learning is a dangerous thing.'' Because journalism is a noble job, it aims on providing service to the common man. My word for the so-called well wishers: before judging any profession,do a complete research. ''Just because I have choosen a different path, doesnt mean I am LOST....'' ...

I AM AN ARTIST and these are my unspoken words. -I am an artist and my passion for my particular art form is called insanity. -I am a dancer and I am considered as a bar dancer because its my profession. -I am a painter and they wont let her marry me because painting is not considered as an profession. -I am a musician and I am considered that I have a career only in marriage bands. -I am an actress and they say that I have slept with producers and directors to get roles. -I am a singer and they take it as a joke. Isnt it funny how the country of various arts and cultures treats its own artists? The artists are not even considered as social beings. Unlike America where there are colleges that offer degrees and placements in the field of art,India is still running on the stereotype track of considering art forms as hobbies but not mainstream professions. I think this thing should definitely change. Artists should be respected as they are god's special people.

A little girl walked up to her mother in an airport and asked her, ''maa, who are these beautiful girls in similar dresses?'' The mother replied, ''They are airhostesses.'' The girl with sparkles in her little eyes, ''Maa I also want to become an airhostess.'' The mother immediately held her hand and said,''No sweetheart, these are not good professions, I want you to be a doctor. Do you know how much a doctor gets money?'' The girl in confusion said, ''But maa I want to...'' The mother didnt allow her to even complete her sentence and distracted her with something else. Yes, this is something that I witnessed in Indira Gandhi International Airport,New Delhi. I was really shocked by the conversation between the mother and daughter. In a country like India, in fact in an independent country like India the youth is not allowed to make their own career decisions. The question that arises is ''WHY?...

When people ask me what is your hobby I add ''Dancing, playing guitar, sketching etc.'' I never had given importance to my writing skills. But I have been praised many times about my writing, so finally I'm here writting my life's first blog. Words of a real writer is something that can touch your heart. I guess its the only thing that can move one's heart and soul without even speaking a single word. A writer is one of the most silent person whose silence speaks a thousand words on a white space. I personally have never even considered myself as a writer, because for me writer is a noble person and for reaching that perfection one has to scribble down many articles and writings. Even our God is a writer. He has written our lives' stories. And yes! Writing is pious job as it has been started by the God himself. I remember when my grandma used to tell me story how Lord Ganesha wrote slokas with his broken tooth. Isnt it beautiful that God was also s...