Posted in Chennai Bloggers Club, Little Deeds of Sustainability


“Mom, why are we selling the roses, and at such high prices?” Asmita was a bit startled with her baby’s words. “No dear, we would not. They give seeds, and we don’t want to sell them. Why do you ask?”

Ananya seemed upset and was not her usual self, when she insisted that she knew about it. She had heard her dad and the gardener uncle having a heated discussion this morning. Asmita calmed her down and reiterated that they had moved to the hills, away from the bustle of the city and its commercialization to lead a simple life, just enough to sustain themselves. Ananya, all of 9, had always adjusted well to this living, and why not? She was born into it, whereas Asmita and Shyam were the ones who had to unlearn their city lives and immerse into the lap of sustainable living.

The past 11 years had been a struggle; but with sweet fruits thrown in, every time they doubted their decision to transform. Asmita knew that this year there had been a great demand for organic roses; and their valley produced the best ones. She remembered how Shyam had brought to her their first set of bloomed roses, on the day Ananya was born. They had then decided never to sell any flowers or seeds from their farm; they did not want to sell life, just when it was born.  So many people had tried to reason with them, and called them hypocrites. The others were also right, if we could sell other plant and animal products, then what’s with just flowers and seeds. They used to reason it a lot, among themselves, but just used to stick on to their decision.


She wanted to discuss with Shyam, she wanted an assurance that they were not aiming for that utopia that did not at all exist. Living sustainably was like a ‘neighbour’s envy and owner’s pride’, but there were so many times when they just wanted to throw away their ideals of pride and be lost in the everyday trash and commercialization.

Shyam had great tension on his face, and was searching for the right words, as he saw Asmita approaching him. Asmita eased him up, “So did you finally have to agree with selling the roses this Valentines day? Our methods are getting costly, and the inorganic and disposables market has become too big and competitive. I understand our struggle to survive these odds, yet not lose out on our convictions”.

“Do you not doubt me, I am just too glad that you still believe in us?” Shyam could not believe what Asmita was saying. Neither could she. “I don’t know Shyam, but I believe that we came here for a purpose, let’s continue building it, one step at a time.”


Ananya had a big sign board in her hands and was so happy, much unlike her morning self. She showed it to her parents. In her chatty self, Ananya told them her little idea. She wanted to re-gift these roses, to people who would usually not get them.

“There are times when our happiness and rules contradict, but as we have always believed, it is up to us to seek our happiness” while saying this Shyam was just too proud of their daughter.  Asmita too was relieved that they did not have to create any white lies, and soon started working towards a solution.

So, it was decided. They would put up the roses for sale among their other farm produce. Ananya would stand with her placards and explain how the buyers could choose to re-gift their roses. After gifting the roses to their valentine, the couple could drop these roses at collection points, from where these roses would be then given to inmates in the nearby old age home. Though they were themselves not convinced of the logistics, Shyam and Asmita were ready to go the extra mile to let their first bloom, Ananya, never wilt.

Ananya’s sincerity had won lots of fans. Almost all the buyers, had dropped of their roses before the end of the day and had joined Ananya’s family in re-distributing the roses.

Maybe this is a child’s dream, but few dreams do happen, however far-fetched they are.

This blog post has been paired with our beloved Jeffy’s post “Deep Inside the Thorns”, you can read it here.

This post is written for the ‘love theme’ contest by The Chennai Bloggers Club ( in association with woodooz ( and Indian Superheroes (

Posted in Little Deeds of Sustainability

Little Deeds of Sustainability (LDS series)


Little deeds of sustainability,
Little words of support,
Help to make earth healthy
Like our dreams within.

I feel that sustainability is always a very important behaviour trait that needs to be cultivated among each of us, every moment that I live on this planet. Sustainable living is the best form of kindness that we, human race could extend to our fellow earthlings.   This is the beginning of a series of posts on few easy to do things to live in an eco-friendly way.


Posted in Personal, Poems



Happened then,

When we all,

Women!!! Old and Young,

Fat, Thin, Black to White,

Confused, Ashamed, Shy, Confident, Angry, Sad,


In a

tiny space; HOME,

we called it then.

Colours, Fears, Strengths, and Weaknesses,

United us in the Bright Day


In those

Dark, hopeful Nights.

Two days and nights

We bonded – stories, nature, art

saw the moon, felt the sun.


One Woman.

Many women, different women

We became one, breathed, existed;

United by the fire in Women.

This is a small attempt at capturing the essence of emotions, shared by few women, across all spectrum of culture, profession and roles; when we met at a small gathering, where we

“Had faith in the strength of the feminine collective…
And send love and light across many realms…
Believing in the power of the Wild woman”,
according to one of the fellow participant, who calls herself Earthling. This was facilitated and arranged by the Ecofemme team at Auroville, Pondicherry, India.
Note: I have tried to write my thoughts as a poem; where each line has one word more than what appears in the preceding line. I have followed this pattern till the it reaches six words, and again started back at one word. I chose 6, because it is the highest single digit number that is a factor of 360, which signifies a circle;  the beginning of an end of a beginning.