Limerick on a mad scientist and his time machine from Delhi

There was a mad scientist from Delhi

Who loved to eat idli

A machine he invented

Where batter fermented

But finally it created a big red chilly

Waiting....

I wait.
I wait for the day to begin.
I wait for the day to end.
I wait for the sun to rise.
I wait for the sun to set.
I wait for my turn.
I wait to re-turn.
I wait.

I am waiting....every moment of my life.

Life..
Life is irony
We want somethings in life.
We wait for it.
And when we finally get it,
We begin to wait for something else.

What I realise is that we wait every single day of our lives. Before we are even born, we wait 9 months in our mother's cozy wombs. Our parents wait for us to come out into this world.


WAIT - those 4 letters get us going through this journey called life. You wait for a bus; the crowd waiting there becomes a stampede. You wait for a rickshaw. He doesn't agree to take you to your destination and demands an extra fare. You are irritated but you still wait for another. You wait for a movie ticket; the queue seems to go on and on. And when you are finally nearing the counter you see Sold Out! Frustration creeps over your back like a spider. But you still come back and wait for the next show. You finally get the tickets. Your friend promised to meet you there at 6. It's 6:05. The movie begins in 10 minutes. The seconds pass. You wait. You look at your watch again. 6:08. Every minute you look at your watch to avoid the stares of passerby. 6:15 puffing and panting you hold onto your friend's hand and run to find your seats in the darkness. The movie begins. Life goes on. You wait. We wait.


We wait for our mum to get our morning cup of tea.
We wait for the waiter to get our meal.
We wait for our holidays during exams.
We wait for our results after an exam.
We wait to know if we got through an interview.
We wait for love.
We wait for that phone call.
We wait for our loved ones to get back home safely.
We wait for the rains during summer.
We wait for GOD to answer our prayers.
This wait goes on and on.
We wait.
You wait.
I wait.

Inky Oceans

A pen is the most important instrument for any writer .

It's like a frying pan for a chef or a sickle for a farmer.

It was first introduced to me when I was a little toddler, where I scribbled random lines and figures on any bit of paper my puny little hands could get hold off (sometimes even on the walls or that day's newspaper, much to the dismay of my mother) .As the years passed by, my grip on the pen improved and my writing's as well. The ink flowed down through the re-fill like a river making its way through hills and terrains into mighty seas and oceans. Soon I was able to create many such rivers and create various oceans. The hills and terrains which were obstacles in my path slowly turned into tiny humps and pot-holes where I would be stuck sometimes. But a slight jerk of the pen or rather my head the river would continue to flow again. Hopefully by the end of this journey I wish to create an ocean of my writings.