World Music Day


Music is a universal language that transcends beyond the very things that divide man. Race, nationality, language, gender, and class all lose their significance in front of music’s graceful dance. After all, music speaks directly to the soul and thus she has the power to weave connections that the mind never could. Every year on the summer solstice day as the bright sun illuminates the sky, the world comes together to celebrate music in all her splendour and grace.

I wrote this article for Exhibit Magzine on World Music Day. To read the complete article click here.

Ooho edible water bubbles!

Water you can eat

Ooho is a small, circular, bubble-shaped membrane, with a small volume of water enclosed inside it. The membrane is made from brown algae and calcium chloride and is thus both sustainable and edible. One can simply poke a hole in the membrane and drink the water or better even just eat the water bubble directly. Ooho is normally tasteless, but both flavours and colours can be added to it. The membrane is biodegradable and takes only four to six weeks to decompose, like a piece of fruit. While primarily for water Ooho can also contain other liquids such as soft drinks and spirits.

I wrote this article for Exhibit Magazine. To read the complete article click here.

A little boy i knew

There was this little boy i knew 

who was an open book 

and yet a mystery too.

He had deep enchanting playful eyes 

with a rare innocent sparkle like stars in the night sky.

There was this little boy i knew 

who was like the ocean

and also like the dew.

He had a clumsy awkward smile 

that never failed to inspire like an ink spill that created a picture.

There was this little boy i knew 

who was a lion 

and yet a butterfly too. 

He had a pure and just heart 

with a bubbly naughty coat like ripples in a still silent pool.

There was this little boy i knew 

who was like the sun 

and also like the moon. 

He had a fiery uninhibited laughter 

that carried a musical softness like water waves dancing along rocks.

There was this little boy i knew 

who was a novel 

and yet a poem too.

He had a kind sincere soul which only spoke the truth 

with a refreshing idealism like a baby just out of the womb. 

There was this little boy i knew 

who was like the unfolding universe 

and also like the dust 

He had a great destiny a noble purpose

that anyone who saw into his eyes felt like a prophecy was being read.

With great dismay i must admit 

it has been a while since i have seen him.

Everyday as i stare into the clear waters of a lake 

i wait for him on the other side 

hoping that he will once again show himself 

and this time never leave my side. 


I wish to be a river.

Meandering through dark woods and sunny bright gardens.

Absorbing and observing every facet of my endless travel.

I would be a silent container of secrets and dreams forgotten.

A memoir of stories that were never printed.

The tales of magical places and mysterious people.

I wish to  be a river.

Winding past wild forests and lonely cities.

Flowing through chapters of history.

Witnessing the rise and fall of empires.

The disintegration  of armies.

Seeing cultures die and new ones born.

The blood of thousands would forever run within me and so would the echo of their faint laughter.

On melancholy evenings I would be the promise of a merriment future.

I A river  running forever to infinity.

A watchful companion of time.

A confidant of all his secrets.

The Lie

Life asked a simple question
That changed everything
It left me with insomnia
Like it had done to many of its victims.
I cursed myself for wondering
But I couldn’t bring a change
The question was a bloody lure
Trapping men and women in meaningless thinking.
The questions answer I never truly found
But I fed life a lie
For I couldn’t let my guard down.
I shouted a confident yes
And I think it sounded good
As it created such a deep illusion
That even life could not see the truth.
Not a single man seemed to have heard
the doubt that tailed the yes.
After all it was a shaky mellow whisper
Easily overpowered by the people’s beloved scream.


The Storm

That day the beautiful long coast had transformed into a battlefield. Nature had declared war on humans. The wind howled and bellowed, scaring even the most brave men. The powerful, piercing rain forced everyone to take refuge.Not a single soul roamed the streets of this lonely town. The charcoal sky was soon set aflame by strikes of lightening. The ocean was invading the land and the loud roaring thunder had kept the threat alive all night.

The morning after this deadly storm,the town was in ruins. The proud citizens had been sentenced to deep melancholic mourning. There were no casualties nevertheless something had died inside the people. Houses were broken, windows cracked and roads destroyed. The low lands were flooded and dirty garbage had found its way from the dumps to the roads.

It was a sad sight, however, surprisingly most of the man made structures were intact. It seemed like nature had shown us aggression but also mercy. The trees had come to our rescue. They sacrificed themselves and took the blow of the elements in order to save us. The trees performed a true act of selflessness and kindness.

Nevertheless it was impossible to ignore their pain and suffering. Every tree had fallen on the ground. T o make it worse they seemed tortured and ostracized. every branch was twisted crookedly. New born saplings lay there uprooted helplessly. Walking down the road was like walking through a cemetery. I t was overwhelming and painful. Even the mighty old banyan had deceased in attempts to save the town and its people.

At dusk people, animals and birds all came out of their shelters and together payed their respects to the trees. It was like a ceremony for the silent heroes of this stormy war. The town had never seen such silence and desolation. Non the less time heals even the deepest wounds but the memories, they remain forever. As a reminder of this storm and the sacrifice of the trees. Every year on this day at twilight the nightingale sing and these people listen silently.


Note from Author: This Descriptive piece was inspired from the cyclone that hit Tamilnadu in 2011. At that time i was in Pondicherry and had first hand experience of this threatening storm.