Kallola

Six Yards of Simmering Svelte I am planning my outfit for a friend’s twins' meet-and-greet luncheon and a soft silk with an exquisite multicoloured  Bandhini  looks perfect. It promises to be a sweltering Indian summer’s day and though classic  Chandheris  or comforting  MulMuls  are tempting, my darling mother’s exclusive collection has entrapped my heart. I find it hard to find such designs easily today, and have decided to gradually usurp her entire wardrobe, starting with this one.   If the Indian loom is renowned for anything, it is for the plethora of Saris gifted to world fashion. There isn't a fabric invented yet that the garment has not embraced and there isn’t a nook on the globe that the Sari has not trot upon. It naturally follows that many design houses have sported a Sari line. Very few are yet to dabble with the six yards in any form – the trepidation, if that, is understandable because the Sari does evoke such reverence as to demand a very sound

Stand up and take a chance - leave no glimmer without a glance. There may be a pothole, there might be a ranch - you'll never know for sure till you reach out and branch. Never say never, the Sun will always shine. If yesterday was yours to keep, tomorrow could me mine.  Fear the thought of fear itself - conquer what it stalls. Life brings us sprouts anew with every rain that falls.  The wizened tell of daring feats - listen to what they say. Their ghosts won't come to change our fate - their wisdom, though, will stay. Trust, but keep the blindfolds off, see what lies ahead - For every brilliant light you see there is a shadow shed.  Fret not the shadow that evades your quest for what you seek. Fret neither the time delays - in your own time, you'll peak.  In verse, I speak my piece today - it's poetry's own good day. And while I labour, still at it, I have but this to say: Try, strive and give it your all; when opport

Video for representation only. Courtesy YouTube. What is this curse that your beauty shall not be seen by those who know not to seek it? Your fragrance fills nocturnal light and your vision mesmerises sight; yet before dawn you beat it. Which immortal wish fulfilled makes your magic rare? Why do you hide, consort of one night? What latent sorrow will you not share? Why are you shy of the Sun, Earth's own star? What unspeakable secret do you bear? Why do you tease the longing few? Why do you make us wait? And when we rejoice upon your blooming gait why do you never stay? Or is it  your  wait for that elusive mate which makes you glow so bright? Is it those wondrous dreams you weave, which unrequited, leave you sedate? Could it be too that you get what you seek? That rare, unseen, in a moment so tender, your glorious face gushes with grace ... and spent and content you surrender? Beauty is selfish. I have heard them proclaim that it appears, and l

It takes a while to understand that dark is light unseen. All it takes is a moment if you're really keen. Tell me why the Moon is bright and still sports a darkish side. Why do shadows seek to speak behind a luminous peak? Why does the Sun shine its time only to shortly hide? Is it the way it's meant to be or do we fail to see? It doesn't really hide, does it? It's we who turn away... We turn our backs to fact, to a reality, led astray. It is us, and not the Sun that ceases then to shine. It is us and not the Moon that rides a lofty tide. It is us and not the truth that will not stand a test. It is us, always us, longing, at Dark's behest.