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Happy World Earth Day

This is the stone below which our people from the village used to keep their child (instead of burying them )who could not survive after their birth.

Thankful to my grandparents and his generation who planted these trees.
Keeping the tradition alive wishing everyone a very happy World Earth Day.
Below writing 👇👇👇Via http://www.indiacelebrating.com/events/world-earth-day/ 

“World Earth Day is celebrated every year as an annual event by the people all across the world on 22nd of April in order to increase the awareness among people about the environment safety as well as to demonstrate the environmental protection measures. First time, the world earth day was celebrated in the year 1970 and then started celebrating annually on global basis by almost 192 countries.

World Earth Day observance was started to celebrate as an annual event to get national support in order to better take care of the environmental safety by solving its issues. In 1969, there was a peace activist of the San Francisco named John McConnell who actively involved in starting this event and proposed a day to get together for the environmental safety. John McConnell had chosen this event to be celebrated in the spring equinox on 21st of March in 1970 whereas United States Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson had chosen this event to be celebrated on 22nd of April in 1970.
They had contacted the people to join this event to get together for solving their environmental issues for better future. During the first time celebration of the earth day millions of people shown their interest and participated to understand the motto of the event. Instead of deciding one date for the celebration of the earth day, it has been started celebrating on both of the dates. Generally, the earth day event celebration starts with the common practice of new trees plantation in the required areas worldwide.”

writings on the wall

A warm hug 🙆and Namastey🙏 to all my WordPress family( the blogs I follow,the blogs who follows me and the future blogs I will be following and vice-versa). Lately I haven’t been able to paint the WordPress wall with my words because of my busy schedule( college, classes and my Ama being quite unwell) . But still I have managed to write  quite a few lines before bed or while travelling by bus. So these are the pictures of my work.👇👇👇👇 Happy writing and reading.💗💗💗💗💗💗

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Thank you for visiting by blog an giving a minute or two reading my simple writings😇I hope it was worth reading/ worth taking your time. Hope you all enjoyed. Check out my other posts -articles/poems. Wish you all a very happy today / tomorrow. Keep praying and do not let your smile die.

With  infinite 💗💞

P.R_ timeandreflections

The Mystery Blogger Award

“The ‘Mystery Blogger Award’ ,an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts.Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging and they do it with so much love and passion” – by the creator of this award https://okotoenigma.wordpress.com/  https://okotoenigma.wordpress.com/

This is my second award and I hugely thank  Riya Rajayyan http://aestheticgraphy.wordpress.com for nominating me for this amazing award.

 Rules

  1. Put the award logo/image on your blog
  2. List the rules
  3. Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their  blog
  4. Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well
  5. Tell your readers 3 things about yourself
  6. You have to nominate 10-20 people
  7. Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog
  8. Ask your nominees any five questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)
  9. Share a link to your best post(s)

 3 things about me-

° Well I am a very friendly person who finds preety hard to be comfortable with unfamiliar faces. But once you start opening up I am ready to smile all the day with you.

°I love reading novels and I have so many of them as favourites. And believe me I am very good at imagination. So once when my sister narrated the first part from The chronicles of Narnia and when I later watched the movie I felt like I have already watched it before.

°I love music and watching movies.Without them my life would be old. And to mention another fact about me. I am a very slow kinda person. I don’t know why. I try hard to fast but I cannot be one.Still I am working on being one.

By far my best post  is Wild Women – http://wp.me/p7eCc5-6g ‛Wild Women’ which I wrote dedicating it to all the women of the world,happy for being who they are;celebrating their individuality and difference from men.

My other best posts are-

 Grace Grace – http://wp.me/s7eCc5-grace

The Silence http://wp.me/p7eCc5-4d

The Lost Generation The Lost Generation – http://wp.me/p7eCc5-3H

The Uninvited Guests The Uninvited Guests – http://wp.me/p7eCc5-7I

Here are my nominees-

1.httlp://yourguidedjournals.com

2.https://mariamhyder.wordpress.com/

3.https://theroad2there604.wordpress.com/

4.https://newideasandinspirations.wordpress.com/

5.https://stranger2017.wordpress.com/

6.https://kiranmag.wordpress.com/

7.https://elizarudolf.wordpress.com/

8.https://shewrites170.wordpress.com/

9.https://onestoneaway.com/

10. https://justawrittenthought15.wordpress.com/

  • Apart from blogging , movies and music and talking to friends and families be it face to face or on social media is a common culture of which I am a serious part. Apart from these social activities what I do and love is visiting nearby springs and river. ;listening the morning free new and refreshing  songs of birds singing from the bottlebrush tree in our garden.;watching busy bees flying all day long,attached with raw golden yellow honey. Of course I do not miss the colourful butterflies and the sudden appearance of some amazing insects.
  • And I never miss the marvellous night sight silver queen and her palace studded with golden jewels. I am in love with them since my childhood days.


  • I reside in the very Himalayan region of Darjeeling,considered the QUEEN of HILLS.
  • My ambition is to become a happy writer and to open a library cafe in my home-town provided with homestay facilities.
  • Besides the world tour,I would love to travel to space and see how our home actually looks like.
  • What makes me embarrassed is my elder family members talking about some of my funny childhood incidents making me look like a big fool.

So here are my questions-

1.What is the most unforgettable memory of your life?

2.What is your favourite outdoor game?

3.When and where was the last time you had a get together with your family?

4.What is the most important thing or person in your life?

5.Have you ever slapped a girl or a boy or anyone else ?

Thanks for reading!

The Uninvited Guests

Pic source: pintrest

Where on earth am I safe?Where? Those eyes staring at me constantly as if I am walking naked. I think their mind has become a dress scanner. Such is their looks. Girls its high time we visit a smithy and construct an Iron Woman outfit or Is this the reason why many girls choose boys’ attires. Well may be.   

We are little kids until our periods visits us.Our bodily transformation begins. Period days and  the stomach aches that lasts for hours.Your breast begins to develop and gets perky and the initial phase of course is painul. We start getting conscious and we are taught to be careful.

 While we are on this transformative phase,even the neighbourhood and the street eyes looks at us differently. Officially no more kids. Those sanitary napkins inside your mothers’ secret lockers,bras,now occupies your space.

When walking down the street. I heard for the first time the special sound,they made with their tongue.They whistled while carefully speculating our back.We now meet eve teasers and we are taught to ignore.

Pic source: pintrest
While   walking down the usual path,the sound of a motorbike,two guys,one grabs my boobs and shooo the bike vanishes.The society remembers me.

I reject someone and the psychopath comes throws acid on my face,shooo the criminals vanishes. The society will never forget me.

Again this is not enough,one day they grabbed me; a hundred licentious eyes and hands their mouth salivating as they clenched my arms and feets,their claws tearing my soft clothes and flesh,one by one they raped me,inserted foreign objects inside my vagina. My body bruised and blood dripping. But shoooo the rapists vanishes. The country will never forget my name.

But does anyone remember any assualters,molesters, rapists? Their names? The place where they belong? 

Yes! I am afraid of the dark,of those nocturnal eyes and hands ,of those ghastly beasts who haunts our bodies and enjoy our pain.
Where on Earth are we safe? Very recently I received a message from an unknown person in Facebook asking me to indulge in a sex chat with him.Very instantly I had to block that person.

Even in the virtual world these dirty minds craves for sex.

A few months back. We were inside a three wheeled vehicle and an old man who was seated in front of us. He looked at us and after a while put his hand inside his pant. At first we thought may be he was uncomfortable but no he kept on reapeating that a couple of times touching his private part and putting his fingers inside his mouth. That was gross and we were about to get out from the vechile but fortunately he left .

Thousands of cyber crimes,rapes take place every single day and many cases are not even reported.

pic source :google.pintrest
 Sometimes it is outside your home and sometimes it is inside your home and neighbourhood. It is usually the victims who are blamed by the society. Her dress was short, she was alone, she walked during night,she had a bad character, she had many past relationships,may be she was a call girl,she was friendly and open with guys and so on.

Source:google
 Thousands fingers pointing towards the victim and the voice crying for help is just silenced. But the fault lies not in the girls or in her dress or in her character but in those shameless eyes that are naked and distorted ,that lacks good food and nutrition. Thereby effecting the entire mind making their body abnormal. If we are proud to be the the citizens of a land that is rich with temples and cultures we have much more reason to be ashamed of because thousand minds are getting distorted in a peculiar way thus defaming the whole nation and the human civilisation.

These uninvited guests are present in every street corners and the very recent Bengaluru Molestation incident baffled the whole country. How long! How long! Will the girls have  to live their life in fears? How long will they have to stay indoors? How long?

Our country India is blessed with rich cultures, the land of Gods and Goddesses. In every house we have these miniature Goddesses- Parvati,Laxmi,Saraswati,Durga,Kali and so many that we can hardly remember each names and every year we celebrate the festivals, Kali Puja, Saraswati Puja (prayers offering to these special Goddesses or Mothers/Ma).

The picture below which I received in  Whatsapp perfectly describes the present scenario.

Source:google/whatsapp
We all have these questions. Are they people like you and us? Are they human?Are they really men of flesh and blood?

Were they born from a mother’s womb? Those boobs that they sexualise now. Were they not fed by their mothers’ breast? Were they not inside their mothers womb for nine months and were they not born out from a labour pain? Didn’t they cry for the first time as their heads came out of theirs mothers’ vagina,covered in her blood while that umbelical cord still connecting them? I doubt those people were never breast feeded by their mothers. They were never connected to Mothers’ because that female body is the first known part to every men and women when they first step into an alien world.And the same body they now sexualise and disrespect.

Yes,it is true that thinking separates us from the wild animal kingdom but this intelligence is of no use to those retarted evil minds. Its such a shame that even animals such as them do not exist. There is no such thing as Rape! in their world. Better is an animal than a human.

We have used our intelligence to such an extent that we are the most cultivated advanced being who are ruling the earth and the space. But when these uninvited guests disturbs the peace and purity of an individual,we are in the nadir and not in the zenith of our civilisation.Infinite

Robert frost,“The Wood-Pile”

​Introduction by Peter Davison

February 3, 1999

In February of 1912 Robert Frost wrote a poem called “The Wood-Pile,” a poem that meant something special to him — he would single it out for reprinting in his annual Christmas card nearly fifty years later,just before he died. The poem emerged at a crossroads in his life: he was about to make “a great leap forward,” as he had written to the editor Susan Hayes Ward in 1911. That year the Frost family, after many years stuck on a farm in Derry, New Hampshire, had at last uprooted themselves enough to move, for a season, one hundred miles north to Plymouth, New Hampshire. There, Frost taught college students (women) for the first time in his life, and was observed to be speaking in a different, less formal, more casual way — a way new to him.

At Christmas in 1911 Frost took the train to visit Susan Ward — the only editor who had consistently encouraged his work — in New Jersey. Frost had sent her a sheaf of the last and best poems in A Boy’s Will,his first collection of poems (which he would publish in England in 1913). In New Jersey they spoke about his work and of his plans, as yet unannounced, for the future. After his return to Plymouth, Frost wrote to Ward as follows:
Two lonely crossroads that themselves cross each other I have walked several times this winter without meeting or overtaking so much as a single person on foot or on runners. The practically unbroken conditions of both for several days after a snow or a blow proves that neither is much travelled. Judge then how surpised I was the other evening as I came down one to see a man, who to my own unfamiliar eyes and in the dusk looked for all the world like myself, coming down the other, his approach to the point where our paths must intersect being so timed that unless one of us pulled up we must inevitably collide. I felt as if I was going to meet my own image in a slanting mirror. Or say I felt as we slowly converged on the same point with the same noiseless yet laborious strides as if we were two images about to float together with the uncrossing of someone’s eyes. I verily expected to take up or absorb this other self and feel the stronger by the addition for the three-mile journey home. But I didn’t go forward to the touch. I stood still in wonderment and let him pass by; and that, too, with the fatal omission of not trying to find out by a comparison of lives and immediate and remote interests what could have brought us by crossing paths to the same point in the wilderness at the same moment of nightfall. Some purpose I doubt not, if we could but have made it out. I like a coincidence almost as well as an incongruity.
To me the letter seems fateful. It signals the crystallizing of Robert Frost’s talent at Plymouth, his determination to “set forth for somewhere,” his hesitant welcoming of the true bond between speaker and hearer. The voice in which his poems would take place would alter shortly: it would be the voice more of the farmer than of the teacher, “the sound of speech.” And the poem he wrote next, in the same month he wrote this letter, was “The Wood-Pile,” the first-written poem and cornerstone of the collection he would entitle North of Boston when it was published in London in 1914.

The Wood-Pile
Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,

I paused and said, “I will turn back from here.

No, I will go on farther — and we shall see.”

The hard snow held me, save where now and then

One foot went through. The view was all in lines

Straight up and down of tall slim trees

Too much alike to mark or name a place by

So as to say for certain I was here

Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.

A small bird flew before me. He was careful

To put a tree between us when he lighted,

And say no word to tell me who he was

Who was so foolish as to think what hethought.

He thought that I was after him for a feather —

The white one in his tail; like one who takes

Everything said as personal to himself.

One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.

And then there was a pile of wood for which

I forgot him and let his little fear

Carry him off the way I might have gone,

Without so much as wishing him good-night.

He went behind it to make his last stand.

It was a cord of maple, cut and split

And piled — and measured, four by four by eight.

And not another like it could I see.

No runner tracks in this year’s snow looped near it.

And it was older sure than this year’s cutting,

Or even last year’s or the year’s before.

The wood was gray and the bark warping off it

And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis

Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.

What held it though on one side was a tree

Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,

These latter about to fall. I thought that only

Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks

Could so forget his handiwork on which

He spent himself, the labor of his ax,

And leave it there far from a useful fireplace

To warm the frozen swamp as best it could

With the slow smokeless burning of decay.
Frost’s poem speaks of finding a kind of order hidden away in the depths of the woods, that perfectly cut and measured cord of wood, “four by four by eight,” the only one to be found, a cord of wood tied up with a cord of — what? — of clematis. It is a poem about trees, like those that had sounded over the house in Derry, and which Frost would write about in “The Sound of Trees.” (“They are that that talks of going/ But never gets away…./ I shall set forth for somewhere,/ I shall make the reckless choice …”) These trees are “too much alike” to let the speaker know “whether I was here or somewhere else.” When the bird hides from the walker he puts trees between them; and when the walker finds the wood-pile it is propped between one live tree and one dead stake, like a body of work that is propped between the established civilization of Europe and the live-but-frosty land of New England, between the meter of a poem and its rhythm, between stasis and motion.
Any careful reader of Frost’s work can point to twenty or thirty of his poems that tell in one form or another what he thought to be the story of his life, the story of a man who ran away from civilization, quitting for his own reasons, and went off into the woods, at the risk of getting lost, and found there something worth taking note of, something that lay at the heart of the mystery, a directive, say, or a star in a stone boat, or a pasture spring, or the song of a darkling thrush — or a decaying wood-pile. In this, the first of his truly great poems, he finds warmth in observing how the labor of our hands ends in “the slow smokeless burning of decay.” The syntax and artistry of this poem’s last sentence may embody Robert Frost’s discovery of his true mission as a poet.

Source: The Atlantic Online via Facebook

The Unknown

Pic source:google

Do you believe in God?Do you believe in Spirits and ghosts?
Have you encountered any supernatural occurrences in your life?
I personally believe that many of us have experienced many such incidents,the so called supernatural encounters which is outside the realm of our existence,something beyond our knowledge and something beyond just simple answers. I know many of us believe in such incidents and stories and the rest simply deny it. But we love to watch horror movies right? How many of you have watched movies like The Conjuring, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Amityville etc.,all bases upon the real life stories and incidents. Many of us believe in the world beyond our existence which when collides with the fleshly world might take away that little peace from people who accidentally step on them. There are people who have had such extreme experiences that makes a great impact in their life. It is like an earthquake visiting a particular place and disturbing the peaceful environment leaving a void,a crater within the lives pf those associated with these unnatural entities.
After giving such a slice introduction about the paranormal activity. You must be well aware that I am about to take you with me into a world which might give you goosebumps. Yes I am going to narrate the particular incident that occurred in the 1980s in the life of my dearest uncle. I do not insist you to believe in my story. You can read and enjoy it as a horror story only if you wish. The choice is yours.

It  was 1980s. Bhanu Bhavan, a theatre in Chowrastha used to stage dramatic plays then and the tradition  continues.This art theatre still exist in our hills as our heritage. My uncle was still a bachelor then. Those were the times when time wasn’t so technologically advanced like now. No mobile phones, no television sets, nothing and theatre was perhaps the  greatest source of entertainment to the people. It was fully dark outside when the end of the drama approached.Time was then different,the streets were not so lit up like it is now.

My uncle and his friend made their way back home. While engaging themselves in a casual talk,they had crossed Chowrasthta and now headed towards their home in Toongsung. Few minutes after they came across that familiar public washroom and stopped there because both friends had to use it. After his friend was done he went inside. He did not use the first or the second toilet but went straight to the third one. The third one had a square size ventilator that was much bigger than the first two. But as he began urinating, he saw two strange eyes peeping right from that ventilator. Till then he was done. At first he was not scared at all. And he presumed it to be some kind of animal and it looked more like a cow’s eyes, big with long eye lashes. And that thing whatever it was,grabbed his attention. He too looked very carefully  and what scared him was the colour. He could suddenly feel his back swelling as the eyes looked red with lines of veins that was starkly visible and It was staring at him without even blinking once .He then felt that that whatever it was,it was’nt good at all . So he hurried and met his friend outside and went straight home without even uttering a single word. That thing had scared him to death.

Yes! This is one the many real horrific incidents of my uncle’s life and we still get those goosebumps when he starts narrating this whole incident,which now has become a kind of ghost-story for us and to the generation after us.

Time has passed and by God’s mercy nothing happened to our uncle. But it was only a year after that incident that  a nearby neighbour got possessed by some evil spirit.His name was Nikunj. No priest could help him. People had tied him in his bed so that he could not harm anybody and when someone went nearby with anything related to God,he would scream loudly. After a day or two,people there called Lamas who could help him get rid of that supernatural entity that living like a  parasite inside his body. It was such a relief to everyone there because the Lamas had become successful in helping Nikunj and his family.

What actually had happened to him? Everyone including My uncle were eager to know. After much interrogation,they came to know that one particular evening Nikunj had used the same public toilet that my uncle had used and like him he too had skipped the first two rooms and used the third one with a big ventilator. But it was after he was done that he encounterd the same strange being that our uncle had encountered before. He told the Lamas that what he saw was a man with animal eyes that was exactly like the eyes of a cow and he could not forget that he was completely bald and had horns on his head.

Thank God,our uncle had survived the worst nightmares that could have been his. He thanked God and still thanks that he was saved. But that thing had caught another person. Though,he survived after the Exorcism,he could not survive long and within a month he became dear to God.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/interior/