Sonal Singh

I believe that life is a repertoire of anecdotes. The various situations that we encounter, the many incidents of every day, the people we meet, our conversations with them; all make life a melange of tales. And, that is what I attempt to capture through my writing. My cooking is no different! It reflects my love for travel and my love for innovation. The kitchen is my happy place. So, even though by vocation I am a recruiter (www.rianplacements.com), by passion I am a writer, home chef and a hodophile.

Reflections in the pool of life

My reflections in the pool of life beckoned to me today. They implored me to come sit, cajoled & coaxed me to stay. Happily I perched on a boulder that I spied ashore. I knew this awakening, my tired soul wanted for sure.   I sat there in calm surrender, …

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What’s the time?

Gone is the time when people had the time To stop and pause, indulge in idle banter. Now the time is such that If you bump into Someone, before long they scatter ruing, Citing – Oh Lord, time got away from me! And then madly they scramble.   People scuttle …

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Life lost

From the mangled remains of the wreck They extract her broken self. There is a body left, oh for sure! But of features, it is bereft.   A precious life is lost To another’s drunken pleasure, Whilst he escapes Scot-free; She suffered beyond measure.   No apology given, no rue …

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Circus

My awed senses cannot do justice to how magnificent it all looked. Speechless with excitement, I was finally sitting at the seat booked. Oh! I had yearned & hankered to go, to sit beneath the mammoth tent. Finally, the night had arrived. Oh! I tell you, it all looked resplendent. …

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Let it begin again

  Stupefied I stood; I waited frozen, in vain. All I could feel was a deep & numbing pain. Yes! I wanted desperately for it to begin again.   I looked to the heavens, I prayed & I pled; Before I gave in & even hope fled. I tried to …

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Depression

You settle over me like a silent night that creeps slowly over the city. You swathe me in reams of abject despondency and melancholy self pity. Then like the critters of the night, I hear these voices that speak in my head. They make me doubt myself; say I am …

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Why I love you?

If I love you, would I then feel that tingling in my skin, the flutter in my heart? If I love you, would I then view the world through tinted lenses; while we live in stolen glances? If I love you would I make your world better? Would you be …

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Could memories write back?

If memory serves me right then a memory cannot write. But I, just think that if they could, do you think they would? And if they truly could, then what it is that they would? Write, I mean? What would they write back about, the past is under a shroud! …

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An Old Man’s wish for life

  Even though I am old and my bones are weary & creaking. My soul nurtures a wish for life; it wants to give it everything. It wants to live more, for yearning still holds court in my heart. Even though my body has given up, my mind wants a …

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I keep forgetting

If memory serves me right, then I must say That I keep forgetting what I should remember.   I plunder into the depths of my brain, I rack it in order to ascertain; What it was that I was to remember?   Casting things asunder, I compartmentalize. Until I realize …

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