Fragments of Me (Words)

The Lonely Author


Fragments Of Me  (Words)

My father emphasized the importance of being a man of your word.

My mother recited sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.

I remember the night I learned about the power of words.

We visited a friend of my father. Mingling adults with drinks in hand and hyperactive children filled every room of the dinner party.

Not interested in watching my father drink, I sought refuge.

To my surprise I discovered an oasis as I entered a room of wall to wall books. Nearing a shelf, a closing door startled me.

“Did I scare you?” Robert the home owner asked.

Silent, my gaze returned to the books.

Robert sat behind a large wood desk, “Do you like to read?”

Looking at the man with the graying temples and thick framed glasses, I smiled, “Yeah.”

“Did your father tell you I…

View original post 221 more words

Happy Vaisakhi everyone!

But I Smile Anyway...

It is Vaisakhi today, an event with several meanings to different cultures and religions.

Happy Vaisakhi Happy Vaisakhi

It is celebrated by Hindus and Buddhists as part of welcoming the new solar year in.

But it is extremely important to the Punjabi community and the Sikh religion.  The time of Vaisakhi, or Baisakhi, as some say it, is a traditional harvest festival, and as the Punjab is a large farming area, it is a cause for celebration, when the crops are harvested, people dance, and have fun, they do Bhangra, sing and dance, and generally celebrate the freedom they will now have, after a successful (hopefully) harvest. But before all this fun and laughter, they use this time to pray, and thank God for the good harvest, and to pray for the future crops too.

As a Sikh it holds a great importance too.  Way back in 1699, our 10th Guru, Guru Gobind…

View original post 709 more words

Letter M reveals a true cool story

Daisy in the willows


I’m on the letter  M . I think I skipped  couple of letters.

Today is super light hearted. I have a story about monkeys and my once upon a time ago- relationship with them.

I grew up in Africa. Monkeys were like naughty pets and  thieves.

One morning. I’m chilling watching cartoon network. I still remember what I as watching – Johnny Bravo .


 I had the sliding door open and I hear some movement behind the sofa. I turn around and there is an entire family of monkeys on the dining room table trying to steal our fruit out of our fruit bowl!

I screamed for my Ma. She came down and shooed them away with a broom stick.  Speaking of broomsticks I also have stories about snakes but let’s take it easy.

One story at a time .  Calm down Daisy...

My most frustrating story with monkeys…

View original post 255 more words