Parks of Lajpat Nagar, Delhi. (Part 1)

A few steps ahead from the artificial flower shops of Central Market, Lajpat Nagar on the Feroze Gandhi road, there is a cozy park. It takes a little maneuver to access the park. The park well hidden behind the street hawkers high rise display of plastic flowers and cloth masks. On the approach road, one needs to jostle the sedans. A turn along the edge of the park fence, brings to the gate of the park. A white bougainvillea greets as while entering the park. There is a only one bench under the Spanish cherry tree, perfect to devour a ice lollipop on a hot humid Sunday afternoon.

Delhiites are honking hard, the marigolds seems to be oblivious to their hurriness. They are at their own fancy at their cozy home. I kept gazing at their nonchalance until a well managed conspiracy has been hatched by marigolds and their soldiers, red ants. The ants crawled my shoes and they were on a full scale attack on my legs by the time I realized. I retaliated, rubbed away the ants from my leg ,moved away and stopped gazing at the marigolds. By now, the winner is clear. The marigolds were singing the victory song.

COVID-19 Lockdown Journal, Week#1 – Adapting, Accepting

“Accept – then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it. Make it your friend and ally, not your enemy”

Eckhart Tolle

The Covid-19 virus has brought the world to a standstill. 199 countries have confirmed cases of infected people touching all the demographic, social and economic groups of the population. An existential threat has crept in humanity. Although, we give a miss to other threats on a day to day basis – climate change, accidents, death due to faulty healthcare systems. The Covid-19 scare has united the world for the better. Hiding in the pocket of the bigger fight, every one of us is fighting a personal battle against the changes the massive lockdown has bought.

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Poetry – This side of the fence

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Kohl lined eyes

Withdrawing
an outward grasp,
Coming backward
to the roots.
Dry tears smudging
the kohl lined eyes.
Silently comes
The moist air
of uncertainty.
The nectar drops.
Onto the earth
To nurture,
A seed of hope.

How far?

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