The city of DJINNS

Bruised or Battered; but not dead. Its immortal, the spirits keep it alive, this city of Djinns.

The spirit of mahabharat, the tomar & chauhans, mamluks, lodhis, khiljis, tughlaqs, sayyids, mughals, marathas, sikhs, british and the freedom fighters gives character to this city. Quiet some character!

Be it Ahmed Shah Abdali, Mohammed Ghori, Timur Lane, Nadir Shah, Lashkar-e-Taiba or the Indian Mujahideen. The city rises to newer heights. It becomes New again, yet again.

New Delhi: the city of DJINNS

As they say, the spirits always rule...

The empty right seat

I am sitting on my seat, engines on full throttle, clearance to take off but suddenly I see the empty right seat! Where is my first officer?

Gone. Why? Fear of taking off into the unknown? Lack of trust in the captain? Whatever it may be, I have to abort the takeoff. Calm the roaring engines, pacify the angry travellers, face the music, all alone.

But, is it worth it? Should I just go alone, spread my wings. The wings that have been dying to stretch and flex. Should I let my engines let loose, let them wildly announce to the world that I am leaving irrespective.

Time is less and I have to decide. To roll down the runway and be the high flier or taxi back to the hangar and be the 'backless', 'spineless' wanna be high flier. The choice is mine.