Enthralling Trails

  To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become a presence, means accepting the risk of absence.”   ―   Antoine de Saint-Exupéry  Sagar stood aloof as the kith and kin of the bride and groom were ushered towards the main building. Group photographs were being taken after the wedding ceremony. There were kids, adults, parents, uncles, aunts and so many more, in all they were around forty to fifty people. The photographer took pains to coordinate them  in the most suitable manner so that each one looked his best and was visible. As soon as he clicked the photograph, a few enthusiastic adults and children ran to him and peered into the digital camera, they approved the photograph and went for the next one. A little later the young ones raised their mobile phone with an extended stick called the selfie stick and smiled to click a selfie. A  Selfie is a self portrait typically taken with a digital camera or smartphone and shared via social media.  Who does not love b

    It was a  well deferred visit to one of the reputable Banks. I would have preferred not visiting the bank, but it was inevitable. A few years back when we moved from Nigdi to Chinchwad, we were asked to change the address of all the important documents. An address proof is asked almost everywhere. This bank was one of the places where I had not updated the address, and as luck would be the last leaf of the cheque book had to be utilised after moving to the new address.  At the moment, I needed a new cheque book, but kept the visit awaiting owing to the numerous chores which occupied my consideration. One sunny day, I visited the bank and requested the fair young gentleman at the counter to issue a new cheque book. He told me that a cheque book would be delivered at my house address. I quickly reminded him that the postal address had changed. He asked me to submit the necessary documents to provide a  proof of residence. I  got busy with the other chores and kept delaying

  Take from our souls, the strain and stress And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Your peace -Charles L Allen Parvathi stood in the crowd, the mob pushed her and swayed backwards as the train sped through the suburbs  of  Mumbai. It had been a daily routine for her. Her office was situated at Church Gate very close to Fountain, a stop at Church Gate. The journey from Mira Road to Church Gate was a long one, but she was used to it. Taking a cab or bus was unimaginable due to long hours of travel. What infuriated her was the journey from the railway station to her house at Shristi in Mira Road . Her home was 4 kms away from the station. She had to depend on a sharing auto to take her close to her building. She had to hop out at the end of the long lane and then reach her building and scale six floors.  The flat was a huge one measuring 1600 square feet. This was possible only in the suburbs. She was an officer working in the Income Tax Office. People thought hi