Sunday, 1 October 2017


Diary That Talks

Dear Diary                                                                           

You have been my little heart to whom I feed with all my internal anguish and fights. You have been absorbing all my tantrums and unaccepted behaviors.A friend, a guide and my solace; that's how I see you and feel you.When I pen down on your crisp pages anything going on in my mind, in my heart and in my life I instantly get answers. Yes, you talk to me.

Last time when I talked to your most trustworthy pages I found the solution to my chaotic contemplation and rejoiced in glee. My emotions got feet of a dancer and throat of a singer. Yes, I danced and sang on your pages on the most beautiful genres- Love.

You made me breathe it in its purest form...... Far away from inhibition, obstacles, restriction, distance and society. Talking to you about it confirmed its presence and helped me in growing with it and for it, every moment and every blink.

The tip of my pen kissed your smooth and soft pages because of the intangible love that touched the strings of my unknown and inexperienced knack that was never explored till then. You were receptive of the flow and indicated me to adorn it with my ecstatic smiles. I found you so mesmerizing after getting jeweled with the most precious treasure I discovered .....Love.

You eyed my passionate vision and directed me to place it's spread everywhere in my being. I invented that love which I desired and longed for as a teenager and as a young girl.Yes, you helped me open the doors of that fearsome place which I locked long ago. 

You became my ears to eavesdrop it's influx and in turn welcoming it with all I had- Passion, Care, Understanding and of course Selflessness. I wrote and you listened only to initiate action than words. Yes, you became my soul talk.

You are now part and parcel of compassionate heart filters and intellectual persuasions. I know dear diary at times I don't converse cause I feel wordless because of my own preoccupations, but it's only to accrue more to get more of you.

You will be my soul partner till my words will find their seat in you.

Signing Off

Sangeeta Sharma



Sunday, 24 September 2017


Iron Emotions

Our emotions are uninvited guests having their permanent seat in our conscious as well as subconscious mind. They visit us in the form of sorrow, joy, fear, hate, love, sympathy, empathy and many more. Increased heart palpitation and unconcealed signs of crying, smile or perspiration can be apparent with their arrival. Can we tame them? Can we have control on them? Can we conceal them?

Most of the success stories of legends are result of an amalgamation of such unwanted but essential emotions; Iron Emotions. We have been sermoned on the glory of hard work and patience as the most imperative virtues to achieve success, but have never trained to have iron emotions; which, I personally believe, are quintessential ingredient to be successful in your  endeavors. 

Why Emotions should be like Iron? 

Iron is lustrous, silver-grayish metal and is soft and flexible. It is also an essential part of hemoglobin. It is used to make steel which is rust resistant.  Iron also symbolizes the male energy and is connected to physical power, aggression, growth dependence and protection. It promotes emotions like lust, confidence, valor, strength,vigor and pliability. All these properties of iron makes it very significant. Hence, emotions should be trained to be like iron.

Can We Train our Emotions?

Anything which is reaction of our mind, our psychology or heart can always be trained. Its same as mentoring novice and help him expertise his skills. During low ebb of our life we are prone to get shaky in our emotions and this is the time when we take a different role. We must master our emotions to be consistent in endurance, valor and confidence. 

How to Earn Iron Emotions?

Iron in its pure form is scarcely known but in its crude or impure carbon containing forms is used for making tools, equipment, machinery and steel etc. Likewise any emotion which tries to overpower us in its pure form is very harsh and hard to bear. But after smelting it we can make it rust resistant and silvery by adopting some concrete ways:

1. Don't let Pessimism Hammer you.

2.Overthinking will adversely affect your Constructive Mind.

3.Brush aside Debris of Self Pity, Self Mistrust and Overconfidence.

4. Practice  Assertive communication. 

5. Dialogue is the best solution for any discrepancy. Talk it over.

6. Don't be like an open book. Keep some chapters as your trump card.

7. Record your Self Progress Statistics.

8. "Serenity thou are success."Remember being passive audience during odds will let you earn success rather than being active and boisterous performer.

9. Shake hands time to time with your inner struggles. A tight hug to struggles would melt them and will turn them into silvery steel that is into " Successful You."

10. Be your own guide and show yourself what you want to see and not what others want you to see.

11. Value time, people and resources to avoid eleventh hour emotional outbursts.

12. Have firm opinion of your own decisions.

13. Laugh out stress.

14. Mother your dilemmas.

15. Control anguish, aggression and confusion by right planning and using right resources for people and by people.

Iron Emotions will not mean to be stern in the situations not congenial but it would mean having firm mind with fixed feelings of control and self trust. If you are able to earn it for yourself you can help others to exercise it on themselves.

Sangeeta Sharma




Wednesday, 6 April 2016


Heart That Needs Heart
“My heart listens only to the music of heart. The language of mind just forms vague images and figures which I can’t get myself associated with. And for me establishing connection from my inside is very important”, explained he.
 He was in the business of selling hearts. Robust and man of sugar coated words has won many hearts because of his occupation. Like any other renowned man of caliber he too was treasuring gems of name, fame and recognition. That’s what he had longed for fifteen years of low profiled, low ebbed and undignified life. He was a laborer then. What he used to earn he used to consume the same day in eating and getting drunk and used to get mingled in slumber of carefree  life and never had any expectations from it. He had no liability but he was a burden on himself.
On the onset of every new morning he used to wake up with guilt, the biggest self invited ailment man feeds for himself. He with his closed eyes used to find himself in the crowd of world’s second largetst population. “What I am? I am sheer waste in the world full of best human resources. I must gather all my capabilities to be what I am.” He started excavating his real him. He was good in winning hearts, so he started selling hearts.
One came with eyes filled with tears, begging to save him from cruelty of his own people, relation of blood. They had all discarded him as he was not as rich as they were. But they were very poor in feelings and emotions. He was shattered when he came to the seller of hearts, who resolved his problem by making his own family bestowing all her love on him and for him. There was another one who came crippled, left rolling in the tides of time and circumstances. This seller of heart solved his problem by connecting him to a charitable organization and let his heart feel light and joyous.
There was one couple who came with heart rendering cries as they lost their nine year old only son to the most deadly disease cancer, and had no hope to have other child of their own. He melted and took them to an orphanage, where many parent less and homeless small and innocent children welcomed them with their willing hearts, and they left with smiles in their lap by adopting three year old girl.
That was not all. A wife lost her husband in war at border; he helped her to be self reliant for the smiles of her three kids and forgetting her pain of losing her brave husband. He sold her the heart which she had buried with the corpse of her husband. He only could do it in very subtle and quiet manner. He had the magical heart which listened to the untold stories of hearts only and to give these hearts the beats he used to sell hearts.
The buying currency for him was his soft words and ability to win the trust of others. People readily used to agree to sell him feelings, emotions, sentiments at the cost of his humanitarian bent of heart. He was not a preacher. He was not a messiah. He was not any guru. He was not a saint. He was not any leader. He was not a priest. He had no sect. He had no religion. He did not belong to any school of thought. All he was was just his own self: the listener of heart and seller of heart.
People invest in movable and immovable properties but he used to invest in making hearts, spreading smiling hearts and creating loving hearts. He was an illiterate but he started writing a new language: The language of heart whose alphabets were pity, compassion, empathy, sympathy, care and concern. The grammar of this language was connection and formation of relations only. He was so very happy to reside in the hearts of people.
Today he lies on the bed in a small hospital fighting his life because his own heart has failed. The machine is gradually forming a straight line but in between goes up and then down. He is in unconscious slumber, but this time it is not guilt that is taking birth. It is now the prideful heart: ailing but satisfied. It is going to die yet alive in millions of hearts.
He now knows the answer to his question of who he was. He is none other than our hearts which we have shut on the world seeing its brutality and coarseness. We have imprisoned it behind the bars of materialism and self absorption.
The present scenario of setting territories on the basis of religions and prejudices is failing every effort of this bleeding heart. Its business is now at loss.  The irony is it has solution for every painful heart but for its own disease it has no medicine.
Will there be any other seller of hearts born to render its self less care to heart in trouble? The blood is oozing out profusely.
Sangeeta Sharma

Friday, 1 April 2016

                                                                             Pic  Courtesy: ASHNA SINGHAL
                                                                                                                     DPS INDONESIA 

“Love is surrender”. “Love is care”. “Love is sacrifice”. “Love is selflessness”. “Love is all about pain”. “Love is unconditional”. “Love has no religion” and quotes are endless. People take love as per their notion and acceptance rules. To some it becomes walking talking dictionary of words on love. Are you surprised? Are you thinking that I am going to wrap the very word wearing attire of deception? No, for me “Love is convenience these days.”
You are in love, right? Let’s measure its force in your life. You have fallen in love recently and now trying to woo your partner. You text to your partner on one of the social sites,” Without you my days are nights and nights are days.” Your partner feels at the top of world. The technological heart pops up on the screen. Your technological loving efforts become part of FB messenger or what’s app chats. Love feeling words are read within lines. Your sacrifice in love is all about blocking some not very accepted friends by your partner and using social sites which he/she doesn’t approve. Replying back immediately getting message, talking for hours and sending best of images has become utmost care and source of joy. Your partner gets angry technologically by switching off the gadget. You pine and crave and miss his/her by becoming machine at machine. Love has become convenience in expressions and intensity.
Love tiffs over catching you online till midnight not with your partner but someone else take a turn of apologising and seeking pardon for days and night chats. No ego, you know. How blissful?
The time of writing love letters by pouring your heart full of passionate love has been taken over by “Google search Love letters”. Its softness is all about abbreviating the emotions and feelings attached to it in text messages. Its privacy has confined to thousands of minds working behind the technological set up. Love has squeezed itself to electronic gadget you are carrying and updating it as status on your FB wall. “ In complicated relationship”, “ In love”, “ Engaged”, “ Not single anymore” and these are not the only ones, expressions keep floating every third day rather in some cases every third hour, the most convenient way to let the world know about your love.
The most comfortable zone in this technological love is “Virtual Meetings”. Just Skype and distance will not be a hurdle at all. The plus is your date is not controlled by heavy restaurant bills, expenditure on gifts, nice looking attires, accessories and commuting expenses in its preliminary stage. Who has the time to run around trees and sing love songs or sit in parks to be absorbed in its existence? After all, all those are outdated and unconventional these days. Who wants eye contacts and real smiles on the face when there is variety of smiles on innumerable images of emoji in your gadget?
Love effects of sleeplessness are to getting awake and chatting with other friends and groups. After all you have to spend quality time with rest of the social relations. You can do it easily with your love talks with your partner and amazingly without letting him/her feel ignored. After all love means spending lots of time with each other and this way it’s so easy, as easy as falling in love.
Flirt in love too is effortless. Just two windows and the game of flirtation is on, provided your partner has not geeked on you. Do you think I am counting the blessings of “Technological Love”? Read within lines and translate its curses. Convenience is not wrong but its application is wrong. Breathe love in its beauty from head to toe. Mechanical love is short lived and full of impulsive feelings. It blindfolds you to land up in wrong love decisions and relationships as well.
One apple was eaten by Eve and we got that curse as legacy, and one apple is part and parcel of our life which would be inherited by our children. Give a deep thought over it.Experience love in its chaste being and not in its guised face and feel it’s convenient permanency in your life.
Sangeeta Sharma

Soul Talks

He digested his unseen tears. He was not to show his inside struggle, as he was a man. He plodded on the road which was dismal and dark. Thousands of images were crashing and making noise in his mind. The shadowed tree under the spell of starry night became his soul mate in concealing his ache, the ache of love for professional upliftment.
He entered in his house which would not be his in another two weeks. He saw at his wife’s smile less face, as she would be leaving him to drink his ache for lifelong as part of his uncommitted remorse. Things were out of control, as the string was in the hand of his family: family of his wife.
He threw his limp body, with boisterous series of his thoughts of past, into the chair. “Congratulations, Mr. Patel. We are expecting your join on first next month. Meanwhile you start preparing for the project.”
“Thank You Sir!” he chuckled.
He came with his mother’s favorite sweet box in his small cottage. His paralytic father gave birth to smile on his own face after twenty five years of his crippled, dependent and unproductive ailing life. Ayush Patel has seen happiness getting personified in his life that day. His mother’s swelled chest talked million of words of pride for her Son, General Manager: Ayush Patel.
Life on roll earned him everything what his parents desired and wished for him and kept his welfare in their blessings. He accumulated all materialistic joys and quality time for his parents. Their sacrifice for their son’s success started paying rewards. It was the time when destiny showed its deformity to him.
 “The project you were given has been taken over by Ms. Saloni Yadav, daughter of chairperson”, informed his Director to him.
“I have invested all my knowledge on this project”, he explained.
They were not ready to listen to him. He had to leave the company as his services were not required. He didn’t lose hope until he saw the advertisement in T.V and magazines, “FUND YOUR HAPPINESS WITH OUR CARE.” That was his slogan for his project. He felt deceived but not shattered. He was clear of the exploitation of his skill.
“Hi, Ms. Saloni, this is Ayush.”There was a smug smile on his face. She was not at all surprised. She did not offer him to sit, but he sat confidently in front of her looking straight into her eyes. The culprit in her made her take her eyes away on the door of her office. That was so easy for him to melt her with all her deception. They had a deal, deal of Ache.
He married Saloni’s elder sister, who did not know even a word about love. Arrogance, mood swings and power of money never let them smile. It was relationship of empty togetherness. He started suffocating. He was in deal. He was in a fix. In office his wife’s sister was sucking all his energies by over burdening him and selling part of his male ego each day. At home, his wife’s self absorption separated him from his parents, who shifted to their cottage so that he should be happy. Smile appeared to be her life -long enemy. She became more cranky and loud. His deal was getting out of control for him to handle. Yes, she was his deal.
“You are pesticide in my life, making me hollow. I abhor you”, she shouted at him after throwing vase from the table on the marbled floor. He was looking at her with his expressive serene facial gestures and not retaliating. She was just a deal for him and she too knew that he was sold to her. She was repenting her purchase and wanted to get rid of him. This is what he exactly wanted.
He calmly replied,” You do that life long.” That was taken as a curse by her and five fingers got printed on his cheeks. He smiled. She got more furious. She took iron vase from the cabinet and threw at him. He saved himself from the attack. He still did not lose his temper. She became wilder. She started hitting him with her fist on his chest and tearing his shirt. He was as calm and as composed as quiet rivulet. That was height of patience for her. She called her sister in hustle bustle informing of he being violent and attacking on her. He stood and listened everything smilingly.
His so called family of in-laws did not heard pain beneath his smile. They terminated him from his job and snatched every materialistic gains in the form of capital and assets. He was given two weeks time to surrender whatever he earned. He was jobless, homeless and family less person. Agony murdered his desires to be loved and to grow. All avenues of his progress were sealed. He made nightly strolls with deep contemplation as his routine. His solitude became chronic.
His eyes were getting closed in slumber. He wanted to have a long sleep and merge into inexplicable. Just then a cold hand came on his mantle. He smiled from his soul. He did not lose anything. He left everything and everyone to narrate story of his dry tears of unsaid pain he felt, being unloved, and above all of his sad smiles which he used to wear to conceal his attacked male ego. His untold ache left even pain to be pained.

Sangeeta Sharma

Tuesday, 29 March 2016


LETTER TO AGE                       

Dear Worldly Wise Age

Hope you are ushering gradually in my life. Today morning only I saw that grey hair peeping out near my ear.Frankly, I was not happy to see you in your first stage.The very color gave me an insight of your effect on receding growth of my molecules, cells and tissues. I call this accumulation of damage as growth as you will grow as time passes by. Should I be happy seeing you growing or should I feel sad finding myself live for less number of days and inviting some latent ailments as unwanted guests? I am in dilemma. 

Its not that I don't feel happy at your arrival as you have made me more mature and sane. With you my metaphysical perceptions have widened too. I feel one with my spirituality and find emotions and sentiments taking practical turn, whose path lead to meeting with almighty. I might not be very religious till now but surely not an atheistic. I have started observing and comprehending with much rectitude and without any prejudice.

You want to embrace me with your firm hands and I run opposite to your hold as mentally I am not ready to be friends with you. Some fear of unknown insecurity grips me tight. Perhaps my adulthood needs more time to develop better quality of imagination, courage to face you and various undesirable things and above all make more choices, which I know at your advent will begin decelerating.My faculties of exploring, dreaming, discovering and  inventing will sit somewhere at the corner of my neuro system. My cognitive skills will start fogging. Even my eyes will have clouded dreams. Your length will clearly be shown on my face, on my cheeks and under my eyes. Still you'll have your beauty in the appreciations and comments I'll start pocketing. You will increase my smiles in pains and subtlety in  unsubtle. You will show me real behind every mask and brutality in the guise of compassionate heart. I know your powers, yet I feel so nostalgic in giving credence to your advent.

Ah! Why I find you so unwelcoming even when I know you are so beautiful in your attribute, though very ugly in your physicality? Why I make faces when you look straight into my eyes to accept the way you are? I will settle all the queries when you bloom, as I know you'll remove all my doubts then. And that's what make me feel excited to welcome you with smile on my face and anxiousness in my heart.

Please come tortoise steps as I believe in famous aphorism," Slow and Steady Wins the Race."

Yours newly born grieved Soul

Sangeeta Sharma


Thursday, 24 March 2016

Injured Wings,Strong Will      
 Ten long years of brutality was born with compassionate and concerned heart by her for her husband who was a schizophrenic. Not that she was vulnerable and paltry, but her family values had upper hand than her miseries. Her two sons, parts of her flesh cemented her audacity to face all the physical and mental torture imposed on her by destiny.
Running from post to pillar to treat the one who gave her worst treatment was her solo shot, as she had married him as complete man : with his virtues and vices. Social shackles of prohibitions on women were too feeble to stop her zeal to cure the incurable. She was not doing it for herself as she was bestowed with beauty with brains, she was not doing for her sons as she is their pillar, but she was doing it wholly and solely for her other half who required his other half's help, concern and care. She kept  tasting the pain with each passing day injuring the wings of her own personal aims and wishes.
He did not improve. Intensity grew in manly dominance over her. Every physical assault calcified her wifely feelings, but her motherly emotions and her own being boated her to safe harbor. She accumulated all her injuries and started healing by leaving all that was knifing her physically and mentally. Boldly she stood strong willed against time, people, society and values.

Law bowed to her for her endurance, pain and sufferings. She came out with injured wings from that matrimonial alliance which had soiled her all feminine desires of happy married life. Her two sons now become her destination. With her strong will and not taking care of her injured wings she smiled at destiny to over power its powers on her. 
 Through all odds she gathered all courage to be in one to one conversation with time and circumstances to show every one her own identification as bold mother. Her elder son got admission in DTU, Delhi in engineering course, guiding the younger one to follow the legacy. She proved that injured wings can't stop any one to soar high, provided one should have passion and belief in oneself.
The journey has just begun for her to bask in its all pleasures. She has bandaged her dark past with present blessings. She can fly.

Sangeeta Sharma