Disappointment: The uninvited guest.

 

 

I’m the uninvited guest,

The one you didn’t expect

Or met. 

I’m the slump in your shoulder,

The quiet ache in your heart,

The frown on your face.

Its success

You wish were on your plate.

 

I come from expectations that didn’t materialize. You hope the promotion at work is yours; you study hard, but your results are not what you expected, or your travel plans are cancelled, or

life just doesn't go your way.  Then I slip in, and your happy face is gone.

I may linger, but I’ll gradually disappear as you decide not to wallow in me but to pull up your socks and get on with your life. I'm not happy to hurt you. I simply reflect your hopes and dreams. 

Try to see me differently—God never promised us a rose garden. Disappointments and change are an unavoidable part of life. Therefore, treat me as a teacher. Yes, I am the teacher you never wanted, but through experiencing me, you learn patience, you learn never to give up, and to always look ahead. Although you resist me, I shape you.

 

On Disappointments

It’s okay to be down in the dumps.

As you experience life’s many bumps.

Don’t fret for too long.

Tomorrow brings a brighter day,

A new beginning is on its way. 

Do you take disappointments to heart, or do you try to move past them? 

This post is part of the BlogchatterA2Z challenge 2026. 

Between the Pages: Life of the humble bookmark.

 Bookmark.

 

 

"Hello! Are you going somewhere? I'm sorry, you cannot

continue to read.  Don’t you want to mark the page so that when you return, you can pick up where you left off and not waste your precious time searching for it? Use me, I say."

Yes, me, your bookmark.

Let me tell you something about myself.

I come from humble beginnings. I’m not made in some large factory, but more often, I’m crafted from a scrap of paper, a strip of card, or a piece of ribbon. Sometimes, I’m homemade, all fancy and pretty, sporting tassels, and often I’m just a bus or train ticket or a receipt.

Today, you may find me in a new avatar, namely a ‘magnetic bookmark.’ As a magnetic bookmark, I’m small and foldable, fitted with an inside magnet that clips to a page, preventing me from slipping out.

As a bookmark, magnetic or otherwise, I find myself stuck in a novel, a cookbook, a textbook, or a manual. I’ve travelled with you across lands and oceans; I’ve seen you laugh and cry, grow inspired, and stay motivated.

I’ve also been lost—left behind in a library book, a hotel room, under a bed or behind a sofa, or been replaced by dog-eared corners. When you purchase a book, I may be gifted to you as an accessory, quietly waiting between the pages.

I'm small and unassuming and content to live my life doing my job, helping you return to your story.

My origins are really old:

The term "bookmark" has its origins in the 6th century, and one of the earliest known examples was a strip of leather attached to a codex, found in an Egyptian monastery. Before page numbers were standardized, bookmarks were an essential accessory for readers.

Over the centuries, bookmarks have evolved in purpose and design. In the Middle Ages, they were called bookmarkers or registers and were fashioned from strips of parchment or vellum. By the 15^th century, silk ribbons sewn into the binding served as bookmarks.

During the Victorian and Edwardian eras, bookmarks took on an artistic hue, with designs embroidered, tasselled, printed, or even made of silver or ivory.

Libraries used them to teach children how to handle books with care.

Do any of your bookmarks bring back memories of your favourite books or stories? 

 This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z challenge 2026

THe Alarm Clock Speaks.

I must be the most disliked object on your nightstand, and I am the first sound you hear as I screech you into wakefulness. Beginnings are rarely easy, so I keep showing up.

I watch you as you frustratingly fumble for my snooze button and come down on it like a ton of bricks and then try to get back into what’s left of your dream. Both of us know that it’s over, and it’s time for you to get back into the real world. I feel sorry for you, but then I was made to help you kick-start your day.

Born in a factory, I’m made up of wires, springs, and gears and given a loud voice to wake you up. I was born to be loud, insistent, and impossible to ignore.

I find myself on the nightstands of students, housewives, the employed, and even fitness freaks.

I’ve been thrown across rooms and silenced and cursed in more languages than I can count. Yet, I’ve been thanked grudgingly when someone made it to work on time or caught a train or bus that they would have otherwise missed.

Once in a while, someone forgets to set me, and then the next morning, all hell breaks loose. I feel sorry for the victim. I’m usually given a rest on weekends, and that’s when I feel ignored and neglected. You don’t even look my way, and when you do, it’s a nasty little smirk that you wear on your lips.

I’ve also been fitted into smartphones, and I remain as insistent and impossible to ignore. I know you love to hate me, but you need me. That is the paradox of my life.

So, when you hear me tomorrow morning, remember I'm here to remind you that you have dreams and aspirations and to realise that the time is now. 

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z challenge 2026

Theme Reveal -A to Z blogging challenge 2026

 Theme Reveal

 

Ato

It will soon be April, and quite a few bloggers, including yours truly, will come together to participate in the humongous but delightfully chaotic A to Z blogging challenge. My theme this year is autobiography. I aim to give a voice to the everyday commonplace objects lying around our homes, on our shelves, desks, drawers, or in our bags, forgotten or taken for granted.

Along with these tangibles, I shall also explore a few intangibles—emotions and states of being that are a big part of our lives.

Stringing them together, I hope to weave a quirky and thoughtful tapestry of 26 brief but vivid posts.

 Happy writing!

Music: Melodies of my days.

I sing out of tune, and I cannot play any musical instrument, but listening to music always makes me happy.

Growing up, listening to the daily request programme broadcast by the Ceylon (modern-day Sri Lanka) Broadcasting Corporation was mandatory. I vividly remember the singing classes at school, in both English and Hindi, the Chaayageet on television, and the Binaca Geet Mala on the radio. MTV and Channel V were two channels I often tuned into.

Adolescence saw me enjoying the then-current favourites in Hindi and English, buying cassettes by the dozen, and shaking a leg when nobody was looking. CDs came later, and I remember my sons, now in their twenties, using them.

Now, it's music I turn to when I’m stressed and when I’m cooking. Music helps me cook up that storm in the kitchen, because cooking isn't one of my favourite activities.

My dad was musically inclined—he loved to sing, and now that I’m married into a musical family, every day is ‘music day.'

My son and husband have studied Western classical music and are pianists. I enjoy listening to Pop music. I like listening to gentle Jazz too. The Girl from Ipanema is one such Jazz song that puts a spring in my step.

ABBA, Vengaboys, Michael Learns to Rock, Big Mountain, and The Pussycats are among my favourite bands. The Games People Play by Inner Circle and That Peaceful Easy Feeling by the Eagles, Perfect by Ed Sheeran, You Raise Me by Josh Groban, and Beautiful in Your Eyes by Joshua Kadison are some of my hot favorites, and I never tire of listening to them. This post would be incomplete if I didn’t mention Usha Uttup.Being an oldie –goldie, I also love listening to catchy and soul stirring oldies sung by oldies like Kenny Rogers, John Denver, Jim Reeves and Neil Diamond. Jerusalema sends my spirits soaring.

I know not much about Ghazals or Hindustani classical music, but I enjoy a few Bollywood hits like Kabhi Kabhi, Chu kar mere mann ko, Yeh Ajeeb Dastan Hai, and Yeh Dosti Hum Nahi Chodenge.

Among the spirituals and hymns, One Day at a Time, Precious Lord, Abide with Me, God of the Mountain, and What a Friend help me during tough times.

Music is inclusive. It goes beyond the barriers of colour and gender and there’s music for every kind of mood and any kind of situation that you may find yourself in, so happy listening! 

image credit: Freepik

This post is my entry to the weekly Blogchatterbloghop challenge

Happy Birthday Blogchatter

 Happy Birthday Blogchatter

 

Blogchatter is one of the best things to happen to a writer. It’s a user-friendly platform with lots to do. Opportunities to read, write, learn, and be educated and informed are galore.

I joined Blogchatter about 4 to 5 years ago after hearing about it on SHEROES. I’ve been writing, reading, and sharing posts on Blogchatter ever since. It welcomes the young and old alike. 

My biggest moment on Blogchatter was when I received the Top Post badge for my very first post.

There are these five lovely ladies who keep the platform running and our grey cells ticking 24/7. They are also  never too busy to clear a doubt or make a clarification.

Blogchatter hosts activities for both readers and writers—the weekly blog prompt challenge, Write A Page A Day; the Half Marathon, A to Z challenge and TBR challenges, to name a few.

I have participated in several of these challenges, and what makes them even more exciting is the redeemable reward points I earn for participating or winning.

I have yet to attend an offline retreat, but I enjoyed being part of a local offline Blogchatter community gathering.

Being part of Blogchatter has proven to be an awesome journey, and I wish the A-team and community members a long life at Blogchatter. 

The This and That of Colours

  We are surrounded by color—in the beauty of nature, in the ugliness of war, in the clothes we wear, in the décor of our homes, in photograph albums, and just about everywhere. 

We do not live our lives in black and white but in varied colours that life unfolds in. 

Science and psychology both hold the view that colours are an integral part of our lives and influence everything we do or feel.

Colour psychology is the study of how colours affect human behaviour. It’s that burst of orange, splash of blue, stroke of red, and the other colours in the rainbow that add that zest to our lives.

A depressing day may be associated with grey or black; red symbolises your passion and energy, while blue creates an aura of calm and tranquillity, not forgetting that blue is also associated with sadness and a style of music called “the blues.”

 

Can you communicate with colors?

Colours silently communicate moods and emotions and are a reflection of your temperament. Be it our clothes, art, home decor or digital spaces, the colours we use are reflections of what we like, dislike,  and our temperaments

As a child, I veered towards muted shades. I hated bright tones. Gradually, I was drawn to bolder hues, and my current favourite is a vibrant green. My son went through a phase when he loved only one colour: purple. Mom hated pink and swore by blue. Dad was a ‘Khaki’ man.

I have a colour fetish. I remember asking my husband what colour of car he planned to buy before asking him any more important questions about the purchase. The same goes for the rotary phone. The colour was my priority. To my delight, my husband has recently bought himself a red keyboard.

 

American businessman Allen Klein once said:

“Your attitude is like a box of crayons that colour your world. Constantly colour your picture gray, and your picture will always be bleak. Try adding some bright colours to the picture by including humour, and your picture lightens up.’’

 

Life continues to add colour to our palettes, some bright and cheery, others dark or muted, but every colour goes into the creation of our messy, imperfect, but beautiful journey of life. 

What was your favourite colour

as a child? Has it changed? 

This post is my entry to the weekly BlogchatterBloghop challenge. 

Image credit: my personal picture (Chiuli glass museum , Seattle)