Monday, December 28, 2020



The doors of my mind opened
For the thoughts to wander about
The fields aided by my eyes
To admire the lush green tapestry
In a hope to make something up
For indulging in a poetic endeavor.
But I got lost in contemplation
About trivial matters triggered by
A spell in the subconsciousness
And I brooded over it now and again
Eating away all my valuable time.

Just then I felt a gentle squeeze
On my forefinger jolting me out
Of my useless and unworthy musing.
I looked down towards my kid
Whose eager little eyes pleaded
Me to carry him in my arms.
Feeling ashamed at myself,
My impulse prompted me to
Honor it with pity in my heart
Wearing a rueful smile, for there
Is no delight greater than this.

December 25, 2020

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Rendezvous With Nature

Rendezvous With Nature

The stream of words
Trickles from my mind
With no intention of
Making me conscious
Of the fact that I am
All alone in this world.
This feeling of great relief
Prospers when the draughts of
Fresh air is felt in my lungs
While my eyes relish
The spectacular view of
A calm lake on one side and
Vast paddy fields on the other.
Against the backdrop of
The setting sun, it looks like
A lush green carpet laid down
For the Gods to rest.

The long stroll on the lakeside path
Did not weaken my strength,
Nor did it cease to amaze me
As I gradually steered across
The farm of betel nut trees
Swaying with joy against
The cool evening breeze.
It is then I saw a pair of
Hornbills stealing the nuts.
When they caught me staring at them,
It was a magnificent sight
To watch them flap their wings
And fly away to the next farm.

The treasure cove of pleasure
Lies in such beauties of nature
Planted within man's reach.
It can be experienced only by
Training the senses to admire
The divinity of spiritual essence;
For life is truly untangled
When it is filled with tiny joys
That define simplicity.

September 30, 2020

Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Book Review: Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz

Let me keep this short. I felt this novel is dragged. It could have been wrapped up a lot quicker than it is. But, I love the twist in this tale at the very end. I love stories with twists. Unlike the Sherlockian twist that the detective unfolds the mystery to his readers, I never foresaw a twist coming my way; and that's why it was quite an entertaining read. This is the time when I felt the drag made sense. Until this point, I felt it was moving rather slowly as the narrative seemed mundane, monotonous and unintelligent. There are some obvious loose ends as well. I think this kind of tone is deliberately set by the author for an explosive ending. Should the appearance of Sherlock Holmes took place anywhere but in the last chapter, then it would have spoiled the plot. It was a wise decision to make Holmes appear as part of a back story. Even though the story tries to set a darker tone with its gruesome scenes, it is not as good as the first: The House of Silk.

Friday, September 18, 2020

Beauty of Glory

Beauty of Glory

Even if you showcase the beauty you created,
It is not going to fetch the glory you expect.
Because you behave like everyone else;
While getting lost in pleasing others,
You lose your focus!
Then realizing the mistake with regret,
You come back to your true self
And do what you always love to do
And celebrate the glory inside you.
That is the beauty of glory.

Saturday, September 12, 2020

Don't Give Up On Your Child

Don't Give Up On Your Child

Don't give up on your child.
Mind you! He is your child.
Fill him with hope.
Fill him with light.

He gets angry on you,
He may even shout at you.
He blames you, scolds you
Because he is your child.

He lies to you; steals from you.
Remember! He is your child.
Fill him with knowledge,
Guide him towards wisdom.

But don't give up on your child;
For he is gifted, he's blessed.
He looks up to you as God.
So don't let him leave you.

No matter what the world says
For it is always bound to say
But you know him better
Because he is your child.

Don't give up on your child.
Do not make him leave
Without saying goodbye.
He's your child, he's your child.

July 28, 2020

Saturday, September 5, 2020

Tree of Spirits

Tree of Spirits

There is a world far beyond our own,
Where there is a tree and not a soul.
Planted on the dark side of the horizon
It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies
Struggling to find a place in Heaven.
When the moon sneaks above the sky
Looking like a black orb without radiance,
Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,
Then the tree glows in vibrant colors
With smoky hues of red, green and blue
Forming a grim nimbus around it.
This grotesque spectacle is conjured
By the occult of witches and warlocks
For the souls try to take forms of the past
In a hellish way to liberate themselves
From the leash of branches entwined
Within the hideous trunk from which
Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and
Mortified eyes peer into the darkness
In a despairing search for a glimpse
Of something that breathes.

August 29, 2020

This work was originally published as part of a photo prompt hosted on Instagram.

Friday, August 28, 2020

Fickle Time

Fickle Time

Time is fickle,
Memory is fragile,
Make it all worthwhile;
While it is alive.
Only this moment
Stands firm.
Live it,
Believe in it,
Before it fades away
Into oblivion.



I would rather die alone
Rather than being with
Someone who tries to
Play with my self-esteem;
Who constantly let's me down,
And plays tricks on my back.
Who mocks me about
My dressing sense,
And gets grumpy if I reciprocate.
Who is jealous of my tiny
Moments of happiness.
To such people, I say this:
Please, don't be under the impression
That I will return for reconciliation.
I would not mind losing everyone.
Because to me,
Integrity is everything.

Monday, August 24, 2020

Book Review: The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke

It is one of the finest books ever written by Arthur C. Clarke. I enjoyed reading this book right from the start. It painted vivid images as I read the novel. It is undoubtedly a master class of writing in modern literature and a perfect example of aesthetic blending of historical and science fiction.

With increasing technology goes increasing vulnerability; the more Man conquers Nature the more liable he becomes to artificial catastrophes.
But man-made obstacles had never stopped him before. Nature was his real antagonist-the friendly enemy who never cheated and always played fair, yet never failed to take advantage of the tiniest oversight or omission.
Sir Arthur C. Clarke does not underestimate the knowledge of his readers, nor does he get carried away by writing pure science. The amusement is only grows as I rode on the Orbital Tower. The motive of the plot explores the themes of man's desire to conquer the world, earn his fame despite the challenges of technology, politics and religion.
Over the years Rajasinghe - himself the bearer of a royal name, and doubtless host to many regal genes - had often thought of those words; they demonstrated so perfectly the ephemeral nature of power, and the futility of ambition. "I am the King." Ah, but which King? The monarch who had stood on these granite flag-stones - scarcely worn then, eighteen hundred years ago - was probably an able and intelligent man; but he failed to conceive that the time could ever come when he would fade into an anonymity as deep as that of his humblest subjects.
The plot is set in Taprobane, present day Sri Lanka, in the 22nd century where an ambitious engineer, Van Morgan, plans to build a space elevator on the mountain of Sri Kanda. This ingenious project is faced with strong opposition from the Buddhist Temple on top of mountain, from the devious hands of politics and also by critics (referred as Donald Ducks) whose only job is to criticize. But Van is not going to stop until his dream is realized.
The eyes of the Buddha were completely blank empty pools in which a man might lose his soul, or discover a universe. Upon the lips there lingered a smile even more ambiguous than the Mona Lisa's. Yet was it indeed a smile, or merely a trick of the lighting? Already it was gone, replaced by an expression of superhuman tranquility. Morgan could not tear his eyes away from that hypnotic countenance, and only the familiar rustling whir of a hard-copy readout from the console brought him back to reality – if this was reality.
For me, it's one of those books which I found extremely engrossing right from the beginning and made me read fast like I was always on the ledge to know what builds up next. The writing style is very subtle because it makes you read between the lines. No words or lines are thrown to the reader to digest directly; he is always made to chew first. It is very intelligently written that way.
“There will be some aerodynamic noise,” Morgan admitted. “But nothing like that near a large airport.” “Very reassuring,” said the Mahanayake Thero. Morgan was certain that he was being sarcastic, yet could detect no trace of irony in his voice. He was either displaying an Olympian calm, or testing his visitor's reactions. The younger monk, on the other hand, made no attempt to conceal his anger.
Unfortunately, Bickerstaff did not know his limitations. Though he had a devoted coterie of fans who subscribed to his information service – in an earlier age, he would have been called a pop-scientist – he had an even larger circle of critics. The kinder ones considered that he had been educated beyond his intelligence. The others labelled him a self-employed idiot. It was a pity, thought Morgan, that Bickerstaff couldn't be locked in a room with Dr. Goldberg/Parakarma; they might annihilate each other like electron and positron – the genius of one cancelling out the fundamental stupidity of the other.
What I really liked is the discussion of technical issues ranging from geographical and meteorological problems to astronomical difficulties that can encounter in building this huge tower. This was written in 1979 and the the reference of global internet search and social media blew my mind. You won't be disappointed if you are fan of science fiction. I won't be surprised but thrilled to watch this work on film.

Saturday, August 8, 2020

Better Than Hell

Better Than Hell

The stream of bad blood flows
From one age to the next
And forms a rope of lineage.
Which is frayed in between
As a mark of unjust actions.
It is pulled harder and harder
To keep the tradition moving;
But it breaks painfully
Finally meeting a tragic end.

The two parts are tied again
But they refuse to succumb
To the unrelenting pressure.
For it is cut by the divine law
To strike a balance; and so
Giving birth to a rebel who
Persistently fights for truth.

To make ends meet
By any means necessary,
The rebel is lured by riches
As a diversion from wisdom.
The enticement didn't work
Because the magic couldn't
Play its cheap tricks for long.
The rebel was hell-bent upon
Weaving the frays with threads of justice.
"When truth itself cannot be polluted, 
How can I be?"
Is what he said!

But where will that blood flow,
Other than in sewage drains?
It smeared the rebel with reeking
Muck of offence, vice and villainy.

The rebel conceded defeat
When the war broke out
With false allegations that
Are not worth fighting for.
In the face of humiliating abuse
The rebel left with a resolution:
It is always better to be in hell
Than spending even a minute
More here.

July 27, 2020

Saturday, August 1, 2020

None The Wiser

None The Wiser

Better late than never, 
A wise man once said.
'Tis better soon than late.
But he is none the wiser.

When the man is wrong,
But anger is his crown
And ego is his throne,
He is none the wiser.

The stench is the guilt
When regret is in the pit.
Time chops off his head.
He was none the wiser.

He dies not in regret,
But wins forgiveness
Before his last breath.
But no; he's not the wiser!

The joy of winning fades,
But his tenacity never lasts
So his wrongs are erased.
'Tis he! Yes, 'tis he!
July 28, 2020

Saturday, July 25, 2020



In a room as big as the sky,
Crumpled papers are thrown.
The papers were born to fly,
But they were caught and torn.

The papers inscribed with hurt
Were sprayed with scent of shame.
Then they were scrambled in dirt
With a sole intention to defame.

The room was desperate to be free
From the litter that was cancerous.
But even a simple wish to unsee
The words of pain was hopeless.

It was neither morality nor hope
For the fire to ignite against vice.
But courage stood firm with a rope
To lash out at anything but nice.

The fire leaving no ashes in rage
Lighted the room with wisdom.
The hostility going on a rampage
Was vanquished with activism.

I don't want to spoil the subjective meaning of the readers, and I very much appreciate the variety of perspectives that this poem brings in. But to me, this work tries to reflect my deepest thoughts and emotions. The room here is my mind, heart and body. The papers are my feelings or emotions.

July 15, 2020

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Clouds of Smoke

Clouds of Smoke

Getting lost in the clouds of smoke,
Forgetful of the imminent choke;
Mesmerized by its misty spirit,
She drowns in the fantasy of it.
Walking through the fog of ash,
Even through the litter of trash,
She enjoyed every step by foot
And smiled at the drizzling soot.
I am on the hilltop, she believed,
And felt more alive than relieved.
The smog had become her reality,
Fillng her lungs with congeniality.
It was the only one to be near her,
That promised to be with her forever.

This can be considered as a sequel to Puffs of Smoke.
July 10, 2020

Thursday, July 9, 2020

Puffs of Smoke

Puffs of Smoke

Lost and confused, I light a joint;
Minding over matter with no point.
With the first suck of distress,
The poignant past is triggered.
Unsheathing the dagger of bitterness,
It is jabbed until the pain is heard.
The fume is held long enough
Ignoring the shortness of breath.
Then it is whispered out in despair
With well-timed rings of death.
The second smoke is breathed in
For the sake of temporary relief.
With the cuts driving deep within,
The hapless mind is in disbelief.
The final gush of smoke is inhaled
Wishing for a tiny bit of solace.
But the heartbeats are overburdened
By the poisonous vapors of disgrace.
For the end of ageless torment to begin
The soul concedes to depart from the skin.

July 9, 2020

Saturday, May 2, 2020

Book Review: Lord of the Flies

The story is horrendous - I was quite disturbed in the end. I came to understand, how pathetic our attempts to control life can be if there is lack of morality and lust for power in the presence of fear and violence. This novel tries to show just that. A group of innocent little kids aged between six and ten lose their innocence to become savages. On the uninhabited island, the fear of the beast grips them and makes them paranoid. With paranoia they turn violent and break any rule that tries to control them. It really questions the intellect of the human being if it's not put on a leash of principles and discipline. If it's on the loose, then humans are nothing short of wild beasts.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020



Suffering from a heavy heart,
With a lump in the throat,
Drenched in sorrowful tears -
Are the lines of bygone years.
But the past  cannot be condemned
However bitter it might have been.
For it has taught many lessons
In the school of hard knocks.
Now the soul is flourished
Beyond the limits of misery.
It has outgrown mortal wounds
And transcended the common
Understanding of knowledge
With a courageous breakout
From the flesh of transient body
Confined in the sphere of illusion.
It has embarked upon a journey
Towards the Supreme One -
The infinite, the boundless,
The pervasive omniscience,
The ultimate truth of divinity
Which I am already a part of
Since the beginning of time
Until its endless weaving of life,
Where it resides forever and ever.

Inspired by the story of Jada Bharata and the philosophy of Hinduism.

April 21, 2020

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Book Review: Children Of Time

Whoa! It feels great to finish reading this thick novel. Yes, its 600 pages long. Thanks to the lock down, I was able to spend more time on reading. The characters are unique. The story is about the last remnants of humanity trying to find a home planet in the universe. The central character is a spider named Portia. Its all about how she evolves over centuries and dominates her colonies on the green planet. I felt it is dragged. The plot is heavily built around themes like Messiah, AI and it tends to bias the reader towards a single perspective towards the end. But when I was reading the last three chapters, I felt the story should not end. Because the climax is just beautiful. They express what really makes us human, what humanity really means. And it took me completely by surprise, that how wonderful a twist can be written. But I surely felt, the book could be shortened by 100 pages at least by removing the unimportant stuff.

Find this book on

Monday, April 13, 2020

What is God?

This is my small attempt to answer the very big question: What is God?

Sometimes we say, "God is everywhere." or some people ask, "Where is God?" Let me just say that God is another word for Infinite intelligence and wisdom that governed by a divine order. The divine order is the cosmic energy of every living thing in this universe. It is the spirit of purity. Now when I say purity, it is often associated with love. What is love? Love is is kindness, compassion, anything which is not evil. Purity is free: formless and boundless - free from ego, anger, pain, suffering, fear, anxiety, jealousy, and desire. Purity, in fundamental form, is in humility, honesty, peace and harmony.

It is the evil thoughts in the mind contaminates purity. It tries to contain purity with evil forms. That's when negativity gives birth. It's strangely easy for these negative thoughts to slip into the mind and make you believe them. But once you start training your mind with the help of regular prayers with a firm belief in purity, you will begin to experience God consciousness. God is not something or someone to look up to. It is seeing and realizing within and without in pure spirit. You have to accept everything as they are; go with the flow.

Further Reading
  1. Theism vs Atheism
  2. Book Review: Adi Shankaracharya - Hinduism's Greatest Thinker
  3. The Power Of Subconscious Mind, by Joseph Murphy

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Short Story: Just One Thing

Here is my new short story. Hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Click here to read it on mobile devices.


I wrote this story in two hours and made a few edits before publishing it. This work is special to me because it is nice and tight. Every feeling emerging between the lines is implicit; there is no explicit description of the emotions felt by the characters. Also there is a mild suspense about the "thing", which reveals itself in the end. Hence, it can be called as a romantic-suspense story. This is also my shortest story I have ever written. At last, it is based on a true event which happened in my life three years ago.

March 12, 2020

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Don't Look Back

Don't Look Back

I said, "Don't look back,"
But my son kept walking
With his head turned back
And a finger in his mouth.

Then he stumbled over a rock
And nearly fell to the ground.
"Look ahead, my son!"
I cautioned him again.
Then he turned his head
To look forward
And suddenly I realized
The truth in those words.

© Amit Herlekar