Vacations

Vacations are one’s own time

To break free from routine and rise

Over the blue sea on a cruise.

Just lie down and sip some sweet lime.

Learn to ski or how rocks to climb;

Surf the seas; paraglide the skies.

Vacations are one’s own time

To break free from routine and rise.

Works of art and music sublime

Are balm for worn out ears and eyes.

Reading a book can make you wise.

Doing nothing also no crime.

Vacations are one’s own time

The award details can be found here

This is my second attempt at rondel, a French poetry form posted at One Stop Poetry and for Jingle Poetry for poetry potluck theme : Trips, travel and vacations

Hush

Picture credit: Roger Allen Baut

Cold hush sweeps the land

Frozen water shining says

Time for reflection

This Haiku has been written for One Shoot Sunday prompt at one stop poetry and Haiku Heights prompt #36 - Hush

A fling with fate

I saw it in the mirror, I saw it in my face. That this was not going to be my day. The clocks had moved forward. I thought it was 8.45 but time had moved to 9.45. My cell phone was ringing. I sleepily picked up the call. An angry female voice greeted me at the other end. "The cab driver has been calling for the last 10 minutes. Are you coming or shall we move on?" It was that damn girl from the cab again. I had heartfelt empathy for her boy friend whoever he was . I said "You please proceed. I am working from home today"  and cut the phone. I was not keen on enriching my knowledge on what constituted responsible behavior. I hoped she would not call up again to educate me on the same.

 I congratulated myself on reading the signs well and staying out of harm's way by not going to office that day. After all fate had limited options to ruin your day at home. So thinking I went on to open the fridge to pick up my morning cereal and milk. The minute the fridge door opened, crimson fluid began to seep out and soon the whole kitchen floor was painted red. What kind of a nightmare was this! Then I realized.  It must be a nightmare only. Probably I had still not woken up. I had woken up from a dream which was still within another dream. If what I say sounds crazy, I suggest the reader to check out the movie 'Inception'. Now I had to find the 'kick' to get out of this dream.

But then when nothing like that happened for the next 5 minutes, I decided to investigate further. I soon located the source of this blood like liquid - a tetra pack of tomato juice. It had got soaked and had begun to leak. But where had the water come from? I noticed almost every item in the fridge was wet and soggy. Then I remembered my room mate mentioning something about defrosting. I had not paid much attention then. But I was paying dearly for that mistake now. Seemed like he had gone ahead and tried to defrost. I had heard of people becoming victims of frost bite. But I was probably the first victim of defrost bite. Hunger was biting into the inside of my guts and the only edible item that had survived the melt down  was the juicy Papaya I had picked up the previous day. I was thankful for the small mercies. I quickly retrieved the Papaya from the fridge and moved it to the hall table.

I decided to quickly freshen up and have a bath before cutting the Papaya. Nothing like a bath to clear the head. I definitely needed a clear head to handle a knife. I was sure water would have stopped in the bathroom or the drainage pipe would have got clogged.  I had faced both these situations before and walked in bravely into the bathroom ready for anything. But your opponent has no fun if you have begun to anticipate his every move.  So my foresight had probably stalemated fate and the bath turned out uneventful. Maybe my hard luck had ended. My lovely papaya was waiting to be cut. And then I should get on to my office work. Phew! What a day it had been.

With these pleasant thoughts I entered the hall after my bath. My mind was hardly prepared for the scene of terrible violence and mindless carnage that was awaiting me on the table. My dear papaya  had been the victim. Lying there on the table torn to shreds, it was hardly recognizable. I could not withhold my emotions seeing the fate of my Papaya. It was with a heavy heart that I went on to investigate the perpetrators of this dastardly crime. They had left in haste and had left behind their traces on the table and the floor - little footsteps. I followed the footsteps that lead towards the balcony - and there they were! The felons themselves - a pair of monkeys caught red handed. Orange handed in this case though for the papaya was nice and orange. But what is the use when there was no means to bring them to justice. I took the remains of the Papaya and flung it at them with full force giving vent to my emotions. They neatly dodged and scampered down the pipe. So there went my last scrap of food.

I decided probably fate was indicating a day of dieting for me. So thinking I at least decided to have some water. Nothing as refreshing as a glass of cold water when emotionally distraught. I was hoping the monkeys had done nothing to the water at least. Thankfully the water was still there. Pure and clear Kinley water, reflecting the color of the green vessel kept near the water dispenser. But then wait a minute! There was no green vessel near the dispenser. Then what was the green reflection I had been seeing for the past couple of days? A closer examination revealed that the source of greenery was not outside the dispenser but inside it. A thick layer of moss had got formed at the bottom of the dispenser. And we had been drinking water out of it all this while. From a practical stand point whatever would happen out of drinking such water should have already happened. So one glass more or less shouldn't make any difference. But then mind does not always work by logic. After seeing that moss, I could not have a drop more of that water!

In Hindi movies, they have a dialogue that the hands of law reach very far. I had now realized same can be said of fate. You can't escape fate even shut safe inside the 14th floor of an apartment. This fling with fate had made a stoic out of me. I had seen it in the mirror, I had see it in my face. But yet I had refused to accept and sought to escape. But now I had learn t my lesson. 

Find Details of award here

This post has been posted for Carry on Tuesday #98  and Lots of Laughter - Mar 2011 prompt - Fling

Paper

Priceless pearls of 

Ancient wisdom are

Preserved for

Eternity in these plain

Rolls of tree pulp


My first attempt at Acrostic poetry (First letters of the lines form a word) has been posted for Theme Thursday meme : Paper  .
This poem has also been submitted at One shot Poetry Wednesday - Week 39

Jewel of the Jungle

Picture Credit : Ruxi at Deviant Art

He was in love! With the jewel of the jungle! He was totally spellbound by her beauty and the lovely tunes of her song. He experienced a heavenly bliss standing there looking at her swinging softly from the large Banyan to the rhythm of the crickets' songs. Her hair glistened like newly formed pearls. Her gown seemed to radiate any aura that no material on earth could possibly produce. Her face shone like the moon. She sang softly and her tunes seemed to resonate with the sounds of the forest. The rustling of the dried leaves. The chirping of the evening birds. The chattering of the monkeys on the trees. The far cry of the lone wolf. The song seemed to have fused all these sounds into a single irresistible melody. He wished this moment would last forever. He wanted no food, no drink, no sleep. He had forgotten his father, his mother, his fiancee. All his ambitions were now meaningless. All the riches of the world were now like the dirt of the ground to him. He only had one meaning to his existence - the beautiful creature on the swing in front of him.

As he stood watching, he remembered the his cook's warning. “Sir, there was this beautiful girl in the village, Raginis. Her lover cheated her and she committed suicide. They say she has now become a ‘Mohini pisasu’ and lurks in the forest seeking revenge. She appears in luminous white with twinkling anklets and allures young men to their doom. Don’t go anywhere near the forest, Sir.” He had brushed it off then as superstition. But in the middle of the forest, in the twilight hours of the day, one began to believe things. He however felt no fear. He felt only devotion to her. Even if she was a ‘Mohini Pisasu’, he would gladly give her his life if she were to just ask him for it sweetly.

He then remembered the mine supervisor’s words as he set out to look for the source of the miners’ fears. ”Sir, 15 years back, a village couple ventured into the forest to collect some herbs with their 1 year old baby. They got killed by some wild animals and theirs remains were found. But no trace ever was found of the baby girl. Some people say the wolves took her away and brought her up as their own. They report seeing a girl wearing a gold bracelet identical to the one on the baby lost 15 years ago, riding a wolf leading the wild animals’ attack on the miners. They say she has become the princess of the forest and brooks no trespassing within the precincts of the forest.” "Interesting", he mused. He wondered if the wolf girl could speak human language. It did not matter. The language of the heart needed no words.

His mind drifted on to the villager he had encountered as he entered the jungle. “Beware! Don’t you dare set foot inside our jungle! Our jungle is the abode of the Yakshini ‘Mahendri’. She will come down with all her fury and smite you evil men who seek to defile the jungle!” He had then laughed at the old man and told go and get a mental checkup done. Now the old man’s words did not look so ludicrous. He wanted to prostrate before this celestial beauty and offer her his worship.

Slowly as the sun faded, the girl’s song seemed to wane and the swing started swinging slower and slower and finally stopped. The girl descended gracefully from the swing and began to walk towards the thickets of trees. “No! Please don’t leave me and go.” His mind rose up in protest. Suddenly his reverie came to a halt with the sound of a dual volley of shells being fired. He could feel the recoil of the Marlin M444. After all, hadn’t he come with the purpose of getting his miners rid of the menace that stalked them? He was only doing his job. No room for sentiments. But the shells had not found their mark. His shots had been half hearted and more as a protest to her leaving rather than his duty towards his employees. The girl looked unscathed. But a pall of silence had descended on the entire jungle. She turned back and looked at him briefly for half a minute and then melted away into the night. But the look was something that would remain with him all his life. That hurt look that told him she was deeply disappointed with him. That he had violated her trust in him. He would regret this day all his life.

This post has been posted for the following memes: Thursday Tales - Tale #52, Three Word Wednesday words: identical, dual, volley, ABC Wednesday prompt: Just J

If you liked this story, you can read more of my stories here.

Adventures in my armchair #5: Narnia

I had entered my third year of engineering. A tempest was raging in my head. I was trying trying to find the delicate balance between the demands of a mundane civil engineering curriculum that had failed to hold my attention, the spiritual aspirations to follow on the hallowed footsteps of the great saints and last but not least the mind's revolt against the austerities that following saints entailed. Usually the struggles tended to intensify during the exam times. The conclusion of the examinations brought a welcome release though clouds of anxiety over the exam results still loomed ominously over the skies. So the minute the exams got over, I was out of the college campus on my journey to paradise, the oasis in my dessert of conflicts, 'Moor Market'. Moor Market was where I found my magical wardrobe that helped me escape the real world and enter the magical world of books. Moor Market was a treasure trove of abandoned books. I could go on and on about Moor Market but then this article is not about Moor market. So it suffices to say it was a place close to the Central Station in Chennai where vendors used to sell second hand books on the streets. And in one of the stalls, I came across an old little book titled 'The chronicles of Narnia - The Last Battle' by CS Lewis

They say 'Don't judge a book by its cover'. Good in theory. But any aspiring writer who chooses to follow this dictum and fails to get a good illustrator would be committing a serious blunder. Pauline Baynes' beautiful cover illustration was what drew me to the book. The name Narnia sounded familiar. I remembered I had read a review of 'The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe' in Young World, the Saturday children’s supplement of the daily newspaper 'The Hindu' more than a decade back. I had been fascinated by the review and had wanted to read the series for a long time. At last the opportunity was at hand. After lot of bargaining, the book vendor came to a price of Rs. 10 and the deal was clinched.

I was soon back in my room comfortable settled on my bed after a sumptuous Friday night dinner at the hostel mess all set for my journey into Narnia. I love the recent Mentos 'dimag ki batti jalao' advertisement because it reminds me of my first introduction to the fascinating world of Narnia - an ape who manipulates his faithful friend the donkey into implementing his wicked schemes. This was one of my first forays into fantasy fiction. So I was fascinated by the concept of talking beasts, dwarfs, elves, the Calormenes and Telmarines. This is the last book in the series and also the darkest. It also the strongest religious overtones. For example the dark God Tash of Calormenes, who is a skeletal figure with the head of a vulture and demands human blood. Though for most parts, the series seems to be a straight forward fight between good and evil, at times you see glimpses of deeper philosophy. At one point of the story, Aslan the good Lion (who is like a good God, though not explicitly mentioned so) tells a Calormene soldier who is devoted to Tash that anyone who is devoted to Aslan and does evil deeds is actually worshipping Tash and those who are pure of heart and worship Tash are actually offering their worship to Aslan. And there is a scene where the evil dwarfs fail do not see a beautiful dining room and a table loaded with delicious foods and lovely music playing in the background. Instead they can only see a dirty stable filled with cow dung while all they can hear is cacophony, bringing across the point that people with evil in their heart cannot see good things even if it is right before their eyes.

Eventually over the years, I got to read 'The Magicians' Nephew', 'The Witch, Lion and the Wardrobe' and the rest of the books. Compared to 'The Last Battle', the others turned out to be much lighter fare and gave hours of entertainment. Of course all the books have Christian allegories. Aslan the lion is supposed to be symbolic representation of Jesus Chirst. Like Jesus, he sacrifices himself to redeem the sinner in 'The Witch, Lion and the Wardrobe' . In The Magicians' Nephew', one can see some allusions to the original sin from the Old Testament.

The book can be an interesting read from a science fiction/fantasy point of view as well. You have this concept of pace of time changing when you move across dimensions. Time in Narnia moves much faster than time in the real world. Minutes in the real world translates to years in Narnia and years to centuries. And you have the usual elves and dwarves. It is interesting to note that C S Lewis and J RR Tolkien were close friends. Each book has its own structure that does not necessarily follow the fellowship and quest framework. Characterization has also been given reasonable amount of attention, especially of the primary characters, Peter, Lucy, Edmund and Susan. Each has a unique personality and not just stony characters resembling each other. However characterization is not really complex. Mostly characters are good or bad, no shades of grey. Good people err at times but then they always remain basically good. Evil are always evil with not an ounce of good. Character evolution is limited to good persons recognizing the error of their ways and reforming. But I guess this can be forgiven if the series is viewed as children’s’ books.

Overall, at least the first 5 books are delightful read for the casual reader looking to escape into a fantasy world. Children can really enjoy the flights of fantasy the book offers. The serious reader can probably try to decipher the hidden Christian allegories and may specially like the last book. A good start for someone starting on science fiction/fantasy but will fail to satisfy a hard core science fiction/fantasy enthusiast who has missed this series.

Writers Note:  I had started this series of reviews of my favourite books from the ones I had read over the years. Had discontinued after 4 reviews, seeing a complete lack of interest as evidenced from no comments for any of them. Thought I would resume the series now to give myself a break from short stories and poetry that I focus more on these days. Those days my blog did not have a direction. Now after nearly 3 years I have discovered what my blog is all about. Or the blog has discovered itself. It is a literary and  creative blog that has place for stories, poems, essays on topics, humorous personal experiences and those personal experiences that offered deeper insight into life. If you liked this post, click here to read the previous post in this series.

Sword of Truth

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Not time nor tide can block its rise

Pretense that builds castles of wax

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Sugar that coats and hides the facts

Cloaks that deceive and shields of lies

The Sword of truth its way through hacks

Not time nor tide can block its rise




This post is my first attempt at an ancient French poetry form called triolet (ABaAabAB). You can learn more about triolets here. This post has been posted for the picture prompt at Magpie Tales Edition 58 and Poetry potluck at Jingle poetry for the theme - Lies, deception and misintrepretation.

Master of the skies

Picture by James Rainsford

I am a master of the skies

No earthly chains me ever binds

A place to rest my heart that finds

I lay my feet and close my eyes

A flying bird of paradise

Has no care if anyone minds

For he's the master of the skies

No earthly chains him ever binds

A statue honors he who dies

But honors not the fly bird blinds

Too high his skies for the mankinds'

Lowly ways he deaf to their cries

For he's the master of the skies

This is published as an attempt at a French poetry form called Rondel. To know more about Rondels, check out here. The poem is also posted for the picture prompt challenge at the same site . This poem has been submitted for Thursday poets Rally 40

cat and dog rain - Limerick

A cat and a dog it rained.

The dog, too well trained

stood upright; on his nose

and tried to touch his toes.

The cat his calm just maintained
 
 
Submitted for Lots og Laughter prompt - Rain. I think with my new interest in poetry, I need images. Can someone tell me the righ way to use images from the net. Just pick up what you like acknowledging the source?

Our Primeminister - Clerihew

Our prime minister, Mr. Singh,

Really hard to his chair does cling.

He really doth deserve a large medallion

For his loyalty staunch,to the Italian.




Written for Lots of Laughter for the prompt -clerihew. To know more about clerihews, check out this site.

Violet Blooms and Clover Leaves

Early violet blooms

New beginning to herald

Springs new greenery

Clover, four leaved or three bring

Some lucky tidings; some not

This is the 4th serious attempt at poetry - this time an attempt at Tanka.(5-7-5-7-7 with 2 different ideas linked by third line) I came to know about Tankas on this site. Found it very interesting and was excited to try out immedeatelt. Posted for Magpie Tales - 57 Image prompt and Theme Thursday prompt - Luck

Of Love Lost

A helpless babe in the cradle, wailing,

Me you nurtured with love and showed I can

On my own feet stand the, whole world hailing.

Spurned I your love and outside to, play ran.

An ignorant child no right nor wrong knew,

Me you loved and, taught me wisdom of lore

of earth, of ether both age old and new.

Spurned I your love, seeking gaiety more.

A broken man wounded, fresh from defeat,

Me your love healed and ushered a new zest

To stand, to fight, to face the battle heat.

Spurned I your love in my, for success quest.

To love and to, lose was, always your fate;

Mine is; to lose, and to, love wee too late.

This Post is being written for THE POETRY CONTEST at Blogjunta.com as a part of WOMEN & BLOGGING month


Writer's Note: My first attempt at Sonnet dedicated to my mother. I have tried to follow the rules of the regular Shakespearean sonnet. (Rhyme scheme abab cdcd efef gg with 10 syllables every line and alternating short and long stresses). Though I have managed to maintain the rhyme scheme and 10 syllables in every line, could not bring the alternating short and long stresses. Guess that is too much for someone writing the third third poem of his life. Hopefully one day I can.

Usually it is good to leave the reader to intrepret the poem her own way. But Then as a new writer on the block who understands the low attention span of his audience I feel it necessary to add a note. One generally tends to take mother for granted. The first quatrain tells how mother dotes over her baby, but as a baby, one is more interested to run out and play the moment one can walk leaving a disappointed mother. The second quatrain shows how as a teenager, the mother teaches you a lot of things and gives you the value system and educates you about the ways of the world. But you are more interested in movies, malls, video games, friends , girl firends, parties and all kinds of entertainment. Again you leave behind a disappointed mother. The third quatrain shows as a grown professional, every time you face a disappointment, mother is one who is there to give you solace and encouragement. But you are more bothered about career and work and have no time for old mother. Finally the concluding couplet brings out how only when she leaves you, you realize her true value and repent for all the love you did not give her over the years.  

Change

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton Season 2 edition 18; the eighteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The important presentation was due on Monday and it was far from ready. Praveen was mentally going over his presentation when his reverie was brought to a halt by a pleasant aroma wafting through the air. It was a very familiar smell that reminded him of his childhood days, those days when one was carefree with no tensions of office, bosses, presentation etc. Or at least it seemed that way. The fact that still there used to be school, teacher and exams then was besides the point. Very strange how the same event when shown by the ghost of the Christmas past looks so priceless, when shown by the ghost of the Christmas future so alluring, however when shown by ghost of the Christmas present so humdrum, routine and common place.

Philosophy aside the fact remains that the odor emerging out of the ground nut seller's frying pan took Praveen back down the memory lane to the days when his mother used to get him roasted groundnuts. He remembered the wonderful days he used to have with his mother. Those days would never come back. He lost in the pursuit of career advancement had had no time for his mother and his mother was now gone forever. He could not get his mother and the wonderful times he had with his mother back but he could at least still get roasted groundnuts.


He stepped out of the car to get some groundnuts. The sight of the large black pan filled with sand and the dull pink groundnuts getting roasted were balm for his tired eyes weary from looking at the computer screen 14 hours a day. The old ground nut seller filled the groundnuts in a nice paper cone and handed it to Praveen. And Praveen happily took the ground nuts and had a wonderful time munching them reminiscing over old times and lived happily ever after. The End, eh? Not quite. A poor excuse for a story this would be if that were the case! As they say there is many a slip between the cup and the lip and so there is. Praveen took a 500 Rs. note from his purse to pay the old groundnut seller.


"Sorry, Sir. No change."


Praveen looked into his purse. The 500 Rs. note was all there was. But he had made up his mind to have groun nuts and a small matter like lack of change would not dither him. He saw an auto parked some distance away. He went up to the auto driver.


"No, Sir. No business since morning. Where will I have change? Since this metro rail has come, you people have stopped taking autos. How will we survive at this rate?"


Praveen had heard enough. He has his head full of his own problems to listen to the auto driver's problems. What he needed was change for the groundnuts. Clearly the auto driver did not have that. He went around shop to shop, to the petrol bunk and even tried with people standing at the bus stop. But no luck! The shop keepers needed all their change for their customers. The petrol bunk was closed. The people at bus stop had been plain hostile. The old woman seemed to think he was some kind of con man and kept turning her face away from him. The young man and woman were too busy gaping into each others' eyes to bother about a man looking for change. The fat man was a garrulous fellow who seemed to want lot of change - in the government policies, the value systems of the current day youth, the character of the country's leadership and many other things. But he had no change to give. Finally Praveen found one man who was willing to part with his change. But as luck would have it, at the moment his bus arrived and he had to rush to catch his bus. So it came to pass that Praveen was left high and drive. Where was this world coming to! A man can't enjoy a handful of groundnuts! He was seeing firsthand how devastating change can be in a man's life. Or in his case the lack of it.


The sun was setting and it seemed Praveen would have to go without groundnuts that day. Any other man would have let it go and driven home and got back to work on his presentation. But then Praveen was of a different mettle. Once he had made up his mind that he wanted something, no force in the world could deny him. This never say die attitude had contributed to success in his career in sales. The old groundnut seller was wrapping up his cart and getting ready to leave. In a sudden rush of blood, Praveen handed him the 500 Rs to him and told him.


"You can keep the change. Just give me my groundnuts"


The old man looked at him strangely wondering if this fellow had turned insane. But he was not complaining. If this was what madness did to people, the world could do with many more mad people.


Praveen stood on the sidewalk relishing every little groundnut to the fullest as he had when he was a child. By the time he was done, it had turned dark. He started his car when he realized he was running low on gas. He pulled in at the next petrol bunk. But unfortunately their card swiping machine was out of order and they were accepting only cash. And Praveen had spent all his cash on groundnuts. There wasn't enough petrol to reach home. There seemed to be no ATM machine in the vicinity and it was getting too late in the night. There did not seem to be any autos plying in that area either. His ego did not permit him to call any of his friends for help. So he decided to park the car somewhere and spend the night inside the car and go looking for an ATM machine in the morning.


As night progressed, he could feel mice gnawing his tummy. He had eaten nothing since afternoon. The streets had by now become completely empty except for the odd stray dog. Soon the denizens of the night would emerge. Two old men in ragged clothes were seated comfortably on the sidewalk and chatting away to glory. They seemed completely blissful and without a care in life. The two of them probably did not have 10 Rs between them but they looked as if they owned half the world. Reflecting on how these two men could have so much happiness without money, he fell asleep.


He was woken up by the sound of loud music. A jeep was passing by playing loud jarring music. It stopped a little way ahead. There were three richly dressed young men and a scantily dressed young woman in the jeep. The men were pawing the woman in a not too modest way. They did not seem to be fully in their senses. The Woman did not seem to mind the excessive attention too much. They were probably sons of Wealthy men, returning from the local bar after enjoying Wine, picking up the third ‘W’ on the way to keep them entertained for the rest of the night. As Praveen was watching, they seemed to have developed some difference of opinion, probably over the woman. As the seconds turned to minutes, the differences seemed to aggravate and they were men no more but street dogs fighting over a bitch or worse. Praveen was sure he would have seen a death if the night police man on the beat had not intervened. Praveen once again dozed off reflecting if this is what money did to men, was money really worth pursuing.


There were no more disturbances during the rest of the night and he was woken up only by first rays of the morning sun. He decided it was safe to go and look for an ATM machine. He was feeling very hungry as he walked down the street. He put his hands into his pocket and his hand touched something metallic. He took it out and found it was a 5 Rs coin. His purse apparently had a hole and this piece of change had rolled off into his pocket. The elusive piece of change that had put him through this entire ordeal! But it could still serve him. He went to the nearby bakery and got himself a bun. He was about to devour it when his eyes fell on a young puny kid in rags eying him. He looked as if he had not eaten for weeks. The boy probably needed the bun more than him. He gave the kid the bun. The kid took the bun gratefully and cried out “Ramu, Ramu”. A small dog came running looking almost as famished as the kid. He tore the bun in half, put it into the dog’s mouth and thrust the other half into his own mouth and ran away with dog in tow. But the child’s gesture had made a profound impact on Praveen.


Soon Praveen found an ATM, got back to his car, got gas filled and was back at home. He kept his presentation aside and called up his father and spoke to him for 2 hours. Then he went over to his old school friends’ place and spent the evening there. He now felt much more relaxed than he had been in the past 10 years. He spent the night thinking about life. He came to a decision. He would take a 2 year break from work and be a part of the ‘Teach for India’ initiative. So many changes in his life! And all thanks to a piece of change! For the want of a nail, a whole kingdom was lost and for the want of a small piece of change, a whole life was transformed!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.