LIVING WITH NATURE
(watercolour)
Friday, 21 December 2018
Tuesday, 11 December 2018
INFINITE
Infinite
Almighty resides
In
every infinitesimal speck
Of
the infinite universe.
In
all His abundant cosmic wisdom
He
has filled it with these.
Infinite
sorrow and infinite happiness
Infinite
hatred and infinite love
Infinite
black and infinite white
Infinite
darkness and infinite light
Infinite
cruelty and infinite kindness
Infinite
silence and infinite sound.
Infinitesimal
human made of infinitesimal atoms filled with infinite Almighty, is infinitely
ignorant of the infinite potential latent in him.
It
is human’s cosmic duty to understand the infinity within him.
…Shyam
Sundar Bulusu
Friday, 16 November 2018
Monday, 12 November 2018
Sunday, 11 November 2018
SOLITUDE
Not for me the chirping bird
Not for me the whispering wind
Not for me the blossoming bud
Just the silent solitude.
Just the silent solitude.
Not for me the scorching
sunshine
Not for me the milky moonshine
Not for me the lush Mother
Nature
Just the infinite solitude.
Not for me the sweetness of
music
Nor for me the life’s vivid
colours
Not for me the escape into God
Just the hollow solitude.
Not for me the yearn of y’terday
Not for me the lure of ’morrow
Not for me the ennui of today
Just the eternal solitude.
Wednesday, 3 October 2018
Thursday, 27 September 2018
बिखरी बज़्म
बिखरी बज़्म तेरी फिर सजने को है
रूप तेरा धरती पर फिर आने को है
मुस्कराहट होंठों पर फैलने को है
लम्हा-ए-इंतज़ार ख़त्म होने को है
Tuesday, 18 September 2018
अधूरा कलाम
धड़कता हो
कोई दिल मेरे लिए
तरसती हो
कोई नज़र मेरे लिए
पुकारते
हों कोई होंठ मेरा नाम
निहारती
हो कोई मुझको सुबह-ओ-शाम
इन्ही हसरतों
में गुज़री है ज़िंदगी मेरी
बस रहगाई
है उम्र बनके अधूरा कलाम
… श्याम सुन्दर
बुलुसु
Saturday, 15 September 2018
Monday, 10 September 2018
Thursday, 6 September 2018
Monday, 3 September 2018
Friday, 31 August 2018
Tuesday, 28 August 2018
SWARNALATHA-1
7th December 1975 - Gowri Pooja. A few hours later we became soul mates.
(My latest pencil sketch in memory of my late wife.)
Thursday, 23 August 2018
Monday, 20 August 2018
Saturday, 18 August 2018
Friday, 17 August 2018
क़ायम है
तनहाई क़ायम है, ख़िज़ाँ-ए-हयात क़ायम है, क़ायम है दर्द-ए-रुख़सत-ए-महबूब।
सफर क़ायम है, तनहा मुसाफ़िर क़ायम है, क़ायम है हसरत-ए-विसाल-ए-यार।
…श्याम सुन्दर बुलुसु
Thursday, 16 August 2018
MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING-XVII
Not a day passes
without the news about an assault on a woman, a girl, or even a baby. Not a day
passes without our reading about such anguishing crimes. Not a day passes
without our watching these in silent helplessness.
It is happening
with sickening regularity.
There are
innumerable bravehearts out there silently suffering the evil of eve-teasing,
lewdness, sexual overtures, groping and pawing, stalking, assault, acid attack,
molestation, and rape; many suffer silently, some fight back.
This is the story
of one such braveheart, who makes the ultimate sacrifice to protect her
daughter.
Through this short
story, A BRAVEHEART, I pay my humble homage and tribute to all those bravehearts,
who are struggling and fighting the evil
every day.
There isn’t much
to describe about the story. There isn’t much that you already do not know
about the evil. There isn’t much that is happening by way of women’s safety. However,
there is much that we all can do, as individuals and as a society.
Let us take the
small first step, FIGHT BACK.
***
Sunday, 12 August 2018
MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING-XVI
Is a village a
unique entity?
Is it a
geographical unit, or is it just a notional entity?
Does it have a
soul of its own?
Does it
represent the collective souls of its inhabitants?
***
TheVillage was my first experiment in the supernatural genre.
The story narrates the unusual experience of a husband
and wife who take shelter in a rural guesthouse on a storm-hit night when their
car breaks down on a highway.
To tell you the
truth, when I started, I just had a vague and hazy idea of what I wanted to
convey, no concrete or definite storyline. As I cogitated on the idea for quite
some time, I found threads of the storyline, which developed into a
well-defined narrative with characters, scenes, backdrops, and the final climax
to the suspense. I took great care not to reveal even hints of the end,
revealing the suspense at the very end of the story. It was well received and I
was happy that I handled the new genre well.
The main aspects
of this genre that I realised were creating a plausible ambience to the story,
the essence of the suspense and maintaining it till the very end (or the most
appropriate moment before, as is done in many cases). This bare scaffolding
must be propped up with credible characters, short scenes, crisp dialogues, a
fast-paced narration, effective imagery, and creating the super natural
atmosphere by not saying too much at any given stage until the end.
I haven’t,
deliberately, gone into details of this story since I want you to read and
enjoy it.
***
Saturday, 11 August 2018
Tuesday, 7 August 2018
Wednesday, 1 August 2018
Tuesday, 31 July 2018
Sunday, 29 July 2018
Wednesday, 25 July 2018
Monday, 23 July 2018
Friday, 20 July 2018
Thursday, 19 July 2018
Tuesday, 17 July 2018
Thursday, 12 July 2018
Monday, 9 July 2018
Saturday, 7 July 2018
Thursday, 5 July 2018
Friday, 29 June 2018
Sunday, 24 June 2018
MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING-XV
Let me tell you
an oft-narrated iconic moral anecdote. It is the story of a child (son) gone
astray in life.
One day, a
fatherless boy, pampered ad nauseum by his mother, steals a bunch of spinach leaves from his neighbour’s garden and
gives to his mother. Forever in penury, the mother accepts it and appreciates
him. Emboldened by the appreciation, the boy plummets deeper and deeper into a
life of crime and criminal activities. Ultimately, he commits a murder and ends
up on the gallows. Realisation of his sins dawns on him but it is too late. As
his last wish, he asks to speak to his mother. When the wish is granted, he accuses
her, “Had you corrected me when I stole the spinach, I wouldn’t be here today.”
Having brought a
child into this world without its permission, it becomes the responsibility of
the parents and family to rear it into a good and responsible citizen, impart
good and correct familial, societal, and human values. If these are not
forthcoming from the parents and family, the child derives these from the peers
and various other sources in the society; unfortunately, it may not always be
beneficial or positive. Do we blame the child? The child is the victim!
That is the
essence of my short story “WHY”,
which I tried to highlight in the background of terrorism.
Irretrievably
lost in terrorist activities, the youth introspects on his life and his
misdeeds, asking himself “Why?”
The story does
not have as many reads as I would have liked it to (till date, only 163 reads).
Maybe the title is misleading or not
suggestive of the topic! Maybe I ought to have given it one of the more
dramatic titles “I am a terrorist”,
or “Reflections of a terrorist”, but
I did not, period, no whys about it.
That’s the
problem with me and my writings; you’ll find no hype, no punch lines, no turning of the head three times.
Why?
Bye folks, see
you at the next station of halt.
***
RACE WITH TERROR - links
PROLOGUE
He had no more than a few moments to
act.
Her life depended on his reaction.
He did not hesitate.
He dived sideways like an accomplished
soccer goalkeeper - arms and legs stretched fully, chest and torso to the
front, and back towards her - oblivious to the danger, oblivious to the certain
risk to his life and limb.
He had to protect her at any cost.
What happened next happened in seconds,
literally.
He heard two sets of sounds that were so
familiar to him – gunfire. They were so closely spaced that one was
almost indistinguishable from the other.
First, the three shots that came from an
automatic. The bullets pierced and lodged themselves in his stomach and upper
abdomen while he was still airborne.
He landed heavily on the RCC dais on his
right shoulder, instantly dislocating the ball-and-socket joint. The
consequential pain was like the kiss of a maiden in comparison to the searing
pain in the stomach.
Before falling unconscious, he heard the
second set of gunfire. It was the combined rapid staccato of multiple AK-47s
firing simultaneously.
He heard a whimper and a thud.
He smiled before slipping into a
blissful and painless unconscious state.
***
Do
not miss this edge-of-the-seat political action thriller, published by Notion
Press, Chennai, who had published three other books of mine viz. THE
KIDNAP, EMBERS OF THE PYRE and
MISOGYNIST INTERRUPTED. It is available in print and eBook formats on
Amazon India, Amazon.com, Infibeam, Flipkart and various other online bookstores.
Here are some links to the book(s).
Links
for RACE WITH TERROR:
Links
for ALL OF MY BOOKS:
Links for ALL OF MY
eBooks
Thursday, 21 June 2018
Wednesday, 13 June 2018
Sunday, 3 June 2018
MY JOURNEY INTO THE WORLD OF WRITING – XIV
Fellow travellers, we have reached a
station whose structure has not changed a bit over millennia - status of a girl/woman in our society.
Ram Mohan Roy, Jyotirao
Phule came, strived, and departed.
Women’s lib –
the phrase and the movement – came and went.
Women are making their presence felt outside their homes, too.
They are breaking
the proverbial glass ceiling not only in the corporate world but also in other
fields e.g. science, education, politics, and governments.
Does it mean
that women have arrived? Have they
really unshackled their personae?
The answer to
one question settles the issue.
Has man
whole-heartedly accepted the rise of modern woman in society? Has he ungrudgingly
given her, her rightful status in society?
The answer is
“No.”
What do I think?
I think it will take centuries, if at all, for the male mindset to change.
Just observe the
rise in the physical and verbal assaults on women the world over. The reason
is, woman’s emancipation, her rise are still unacceptable to man. He
is confused between what he is - a
chauvinist - and what he wants to be
- a liberal.
This cuts across
boundaries of nations, religions, castes, and creeds and urban-rural divides.
I have a strong
feeling for the topic, always had.
***
The present
story, nay, a monologue, nay, a questionnaire posed to society, is narrated
in the first person. Am I qualified to indulge in such an exercise? I do not
know. Are my feelings and empathy not enough?
Anyhow, I wrote
the story - i
AM A GiRL - in December 2012 and posted on Yourstoryclub forum. I am
surprised that the reader-count for this story is well over 16,000!
I come to an
interesting anecdote in the form of a comment from a reader of the story. I
shall keep the reader anonymous and reproduce here only the poignant feelings
expressed by the reader.
“When i'm reading this
i almost cried i feel your pain..
When God created you He
is delighted, You are not an accident, it's not an accident that you are a
girl, don't believe what lies all around you, its time for you to know the
truth, and that truth is Jesus, if you think that God abandoned you no! He said
in His word (I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I
called you. I said, 'You are my servant'; I have chosen you and have not
rejected you. -Isaiah 41:9) He chose you and you can do all things through Him
something amazing, He is with you all the time, He is just waiting you to come
to Him, you know God's feel your pain, it's hard i know, come to Him, try
Jesus, He is your solution! He can heal you!♥ Trust Him :')”
It is obvious that the reader mistook me
for a girl and offered solace.
***
I had expressed an iota of doubt in the
foregoing paragraphs.
“Am I qualified to
indulge in such an exercise? I do not know, but why not? Are my strong
feelings, my empathy not enough?”
Well, the reader’s comment answers my
question, doesn’t it?
You can read the
story at the following link:
Please, do read and post your comments.
See you soon at the next station.
Until then stay safe!
***
Thursday, 31 May 2018
RACE WITH TERROR
The waiting is over.
Here is a sneak peek.
An excerpt from new novel RACE WITH TERROR
*******************************************************************
PROLOGUE
He had no more than a few moments to act.
Her life depended on his reaction.
He did not hesitate.
He dived sideways like an accomplished soccer goalkeeper - arms and legs stretched fully, chest and torso to the front, and back towards her - oblivious to the danger, oblivious to the certain risk to his life and limb.
He had to protect her at any cost.
What happened next happened in seconds, literally.
He heard two sets of sounds that were so familiar to him – gunfire. They were so closely spaced that one was almost indistinguishable from the other.
First, the three shots that came from an automatic. The bullets pierced and lodged themselves in his stomach and upper abdomen while he was still airborne.
He landed heavily on the RCC dais on his right shoulder, instantly dislocating the ball-and-socket joint. The consequential pain was like the kiss of a maiden in comparison to the searing pain in the stomach.
Before falling unconscious, he heard the second set of gunfire. It was the combined rapid staccato of multiple AK-47s firing simultaneously.
He heard a whimper and a thud.
He smiled before slipping into a blissful and painless unconscious state.
***
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