You are my stranger, and I am your nobody.

Somewhere in the middle of the story of two strangers, a moment of dilemma comes, when it is just not so easy to define what this is.

Somewhere in the middle of the story of two strangers, a moment of dilemma comes, when it is just not so easy to define what this is.

You are my stranger, and I am your nobody.
If you feel not happy,
There is this feeling I need to call somebody,
If I feel stressed, and you read my text,
You say, “Did I make you feel upset?”
I carry the complexity,
Complemented with your simplicity.
And yet,
You are my stranger, and I am your nobody.

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Conversation: A Joke

How do you handle diverse set of conversations with diverse set of people and what’s the measure that it is improving over time?

Difficult conversations with difficult people,
traumatising experiences with traumatising people,
terrible conversations with terrible people,
With moments of humiliation,
and embarrassment,
On the path, I became so much of,
difficult, traumatised, terrible,
humiliated and embarrassed,
It’s all became a joke.
And I laugh.

Damaged goods

Does mature mean damaged?

Where would I go, where would I find you,
When I look around, I find pure happy souls,
When I see inside them,
I see my reflection.
ugly, monstrous face, scars of past,
the heart was torn out, hanging outside of my chest,
eyes showing many worlds of destructions,
I look like a dream, a devil’s dream,
dream to be eventually me,
damaged goods.


Water can be viewed with many perspectives. Sometimes, we drink from the same bottle but smell a different odor. I wonder why? And this happened too many times.

Water can be viewed with many perspectives. Sometimes, we drink from the same bottle but smell a different odor. I wonder why? And this happened too many times.

Found water in drought,

some found an odor some not,

it’s odor of past.

White, The Color of Peace

The silence of white tells so many stories. This is the first one.

White, we call it the color of peace.
See, It makes the background look simple and beautiful,
but mixing it with others

it becomes them, submerge with them
With death, it becomes death
With life, it becomes life

With blood, it becomes blood
loses its identity, like it was never there.  

I Write Because . . .

Life is unpredictable, everything is not in our control. We try to control it in our dreams. Sometimes dreams are not enough. So we imagine, and we write, and we imagine, and we write.

I, myself, hated writing as a kid. Writing means exams, papers, homework. For me, the need for writing was limited to the exam papers, making class notes. Then one day, one of my favorite teachers forced me to take part in an essay writing competition. The topic for the competition was “ Global Warming and The impact of climate change ” and eight graders were eligible. As a fifth-grader, we do care about the environment a lot. I wrote 20 simple sentences on a single page, whatever came into my mind. I was surprised when I won that competition. It felt good. But there was no appreciation for any kind of art in the small town. It all faded away with time. During my childhood, it was all about getting good grades. It was a serious competition to get top ranks in the class. There was not much focus on art.

Writers were reserved for playing a side role in films. They were only to be seen in movies, very rarely, as father or brother of a Bollywood hero. So that they can be murdered by the villain or used in a hostage situation, but yeah, eventually get killed in the crossfire. There was never a case when the writer was a hero, not that I know of. The writing was not an option for a job or even a fun education major.

Although, Closest to a writer, there was a journalist in my town. He used to look like a typical Indian writer with his old khaki kurta, always keeping a dirty shoulder bag. He used to drive in Bajaj M80 Scooter. People used to call him when we wanted to publish some news or event in the local news section. Now he might have loved his work, but nobody would want to live like that. That is so not an attractive lifestyle. So It never came into a youngsters’ mind, to become a writer or even a journalist.

Now, 14 years later, As the internet came in, the world got bigger and bigger. In all those years, I have motivated myself to become good from bad, great from the good. All the wins and failures(mostly) have become part of me, part of who I am.

All this self-motivation (the words I say to myself) got accumulated in my mind. I got to know what I want to write about. I want to write about people, what they do, why they do, and how they change. Because they have to change. They exist on this planet to change. In all of the fiction, we see characters change. But I feel that the process of change is prolonged in real life. The novel is usually about one thing, but a lot goes on in our lives, in our heads. I got most affected by the stories I watched, heard, read, and witnessed.

Writing is a great way to find what is inside of you, to get to know you to be, to be better, better than you are now. To find whatever inside you, you have to take it out, writing on a piece of paper so that you can see, you can read. It gets me feeling of knowing myself better and better every day.
Remember when last time you had a bad stomach, you had eaten lots of spicy food. And the next day, it all just came out. That’s what happens to me. My mind gets overflown with the information consumed from the outside world. It is a great feeling to be on the other side of content.

I do want to inspire others to do unexpected things. It’s a cliche. More than that, I want to inspire myself, which shows my selfishness. I take pleasure in writing. I write because this is the only way to contain the infinite power of my mind. I like looking back into the past, it makes me sad or happy, it makes me feel some emotion, which is better than present stillness.

I write because I am afraid, what if this turned out to be one of the abundant experiments like other experiments of my life. Or maybe someday, when I get outraged, I will start writing a book.

I Have A Dream . . .

On August 28, 1963, 2,50,000 people from all over the country, marched towards Lincoln Memorial to listen to the iconic speech given by Martin Luther King, Jr., which became a milestone in achieving freedom in American history.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

It all starts with a dream, plants the seed of an idea, sometimes keeps us awake at night. I, too, have a dream, dream of making this world a better place, more than that, contributing to it. Till now, I was running away, hiding behind the curtains. Curtain made out of fear and failures, which we think we don’t have in common. It was time to come out. The writing was one of the ways to come out.

I heard blogging is a way to share individuals’ thoughts and ideas. Blogging is like having a conversation, gradually progressing from weird ones to memorable ones.

When I started to think about creating a blog, Many questions came into my mind. Do I have that much content to share with others? I started keeping a pocket diary since June 2019. I write whatever thoughts and observations come into my mind either from the inside world or outside world, about people, things, real or imaginary, positive or negative. Whenever and wherever ideas come, I write.

Within two months, I had to buy a new diary. So It turns out I had a lot in my head. I got a feeling that I have a knack for writing.

Knowledge is not for me to keep, it’s for me to give.

My father

As per my father’s lessons, I can not keep these things to myself. I have to take it out on the table for others to grab. Over the months, I have attended some writing workshops and various writing courses offline. I gathered information about blogging. I have grouped the posts into three categories.


As per google search, LifeStyle is the way in which a person lives. It means currently, there are approximately 7 billion possibilities(ways) to live a human life. Everybody is trying to figure out “the way”. I am sure about certain things which worked for me, might work for you. We are going to talk about attitude, style, time management, and the things that really matter and help you in living a better life.

I have a dream that all the little children will one day live in a world where they will not be judged by the content of their social status but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

— Admin.


In the era of digitization, It has become very crucial for everybody to understand programming. From print “Hello World” programs to scalable cloud applications, It’s all just the magic of logic and programming.

I have a dream that all the little children will one day live in a world where they will not be judged by only the appearance of the software they developed, but by the scalability and performance of the software. I have a dream today.

— Admin.


Creativity is nature’s gift to all of us. This urge to create something has brought us from stone age to modern age. It is here to take us beyond the stars, beyond the realities our mind can barely imagine.

Famous American author Daniel H. Pink wrote a whole book about how creativity is going to be an essential skill in the coming future, named as A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future

I have a dream that all the little children will one day live in a world where they will not be judged by the conventionality of their thoughts but by the creativity of their thoughts. I have a dream today.

– Admin.

The thing which makes creativity different is that we all already have it. It lies inside us. The following piece is one of my favorite pieces from any book about creativity.

Look at your ancestors. Go back far enough, and you will find people, who were not consumers, people who were not sitting around passively waiting for stuff to happen to them. You will find people who spent their lives making things. This is where we all come from.

Elizabeth Gilbert
from her book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

I have a fear, fear of expressing myself. I write stuff, out of fear of being judged, keep it to myself. It was a challenge for me to have a blog. And Now It is in the process of being conquered. I want you to conquer your fears. So dust off your guitar, It is time for you to give.