Preeti Shenoy's blog.

Photo taken by Atul Shenoy at age 10. River Nile. Egypt. (click to enlarge) Eleven years ago, you came into my life and nothing was the same again. Ten years ago, you smiled at me and I thought my heart could not hold any more happiness. Nine years ago, you said “I love you” and I knew my heart could hold more joy. Eight years ago, you wrote me your first letter and I preserved it with care. Seven years ago you made a clay sculpture and said it was for me. Six years ago you gave your first solo stage performance and I cheered like crazy. Five years ago you started showing great interest in sketching and they turned out real good. Four years ago I got you a pair of hamsters and you said you adored me for it. Three years ago you wrote a poem just for me. Two years ago you started showing an interest in photography and the pictures you captured were brilliant. A year ago you wanted to give gifts to all the children at the orphanage and we did it together. *****************************

Apologies if you have come here looking for a post to read. This will soon appear in my 3rd book called 'A 2nd Jar of Bubblegums and Candies'. I had to remove it as making it available online would be very unfair to my publishers who have placed so much trust in me.

It was on 14 of November 2006 that I met someone called Niall Young. It was a virtual meeting. I was new to blogging and had been browsing the Internet by clicking ‘next blog’ and suddenly a poetry blog caught my eye. The writing was heart-warming, different and unique. The blog belonged to someone called Tim Young. I found the writing beautiful and so I left a comment. And the next thing I know, I get a comment from Tim’s brother, Niall. Those days hardly anyone read my blog. I was delighted when Niall left a comment on this post of mine saying “I discovered your Blog after reading your comments on my Brother's site (Forever England).You have such a deep an special heart. You have obviously known pain, and because of that, you feel that of others too. Love yourself, care for yourself and lift your hands to the sky in the mornings rising sun. You are here for a purpose! Keep writing” Then a few more posts and a few more comments later, we exchanged email ids. We start

Said a granny to her grand-daughter Who has just turned sixteen, Child, this is a story I do not usually share, So listen well, and listen with care. Many years ago, I fell in love With a lonely lost sad soul Who took away so much from me That nothing still fills the hole. It gets covered well When I laugh for a while, I forget But it comes back to haunt The agony, the memories, the regret. Sad souls are like that They take, never give and then leave, They devour, they consume and gobble And once eaten ,never can you retrieve What hurts most Is that the love still remains It gnaws you silently like a termite Leaving you empty,broken and in chains So stay away from the vampirish sad souls Let them find someone else to eat Cover your heart, protect it, nourish it And you’ll know when to give love and when to retreat. © Preeti Shenoy _____________________________________________________ Kindly do not reproduce without permission

A long time since I did a Wordless Wednesday . This pic was clicked by me,when I was at my dining table. I interrupted my meal as I just had to capture the moment. © Preeti Shenoy

When was the last time you used a box of colours? Yes—those little sticks called crayons—either wax or plastic that come in little boxes, meant for little children? Or Sketch pens? Or colourful markers? If you don’t have children, chances are you have used them in your childhood. Most adults have happy memories associated with crayons or colours. Speaking for myself, I simply love colours. Just looking at them gives me so much joy. As children, we all have the same ability to express ourselves through pictures. Having worked with children for many years, I have noticed that at age 3 or 4, most of their pictures are mostly alike. (Except maybe one or two exceptionally talented ones). By the age of 10-12, there is a marked difference in abilities. As adults, there are ‘Artists’ and ‘I-can’t-even-draw-a straight-line’ kinds. It is sad that our education system takes away so much creativity in an attempt to churn out ‘Achievers’ usually judged by how well you do academically. Ye

A couple of years ago, I was spring cleaning my wardrobe, when my good friend and next door neighbour rang my bell. I had emptied the entire contents of my cupboard-- clothes, makeup, jewellery, jackets, handbags and many other things on my bed and was sorting and re arranging them. Since we are really close, I didn’t mind her seeing the contents of my wardrobe or my mess and so invited her right into my bedroom. She sat cross-legged on my bed while I put away my stuff neatly. It reminded me a bit of my college days—I don’t think I have shared the contents of my wardrobe with anyone since those days. As I was putting away each one, she was looking at them and we were talking about clothes like only two women can. “So where are the rest of your pairs of jeans?” she asked “These are it” I said. I had only two—blue and black. She could not believe it. “You have ONLY two pairs?” she asked , incredulous. I had only two. "How can a woman live with just two pairs of Je