Shonima Kumar

I would like to recite an interesting experience which I had during my stay in Japan. As many of you would know, the highest denomination of the Japanese currency is 10,000 yen and the lowest is 1 yen. Now, it so happened that once during my initial days in Japan, when I had not received my credit card, I went shopping in a super market with only cash in hand for purchasing. When making the payment, I was falling short of 1 yen for my 2000+yen bill. I started to hunt my bag for that 1 yen, at the same time hoping the lady at the counter to simply give me a concession for that 1 yen. Astonishingly what I got back was a cold look from her which was turning into a rather disapproving look. As I became panicky, I would say it was my sheer luck that I finally found that most wanted 1 yen in the corner of my purse.   I handed it over to her with a big relief, but the moment I stepped out of the mart, I thought to myself how could a rich country act so stingy. Having an Indian me...

One evening, my 4-year-old daughter started demanding my lipstick. She wanted to apply it just like her Mother did. I started to explain to her that these are not stuff to be used by baby’s like her. I told her she was too young for it, and that she could use it only when she was old enough. At that she just retorted, ‘I don’t want to be old, I want to be New’ . Her innocent statement caught me off-guard. I was compelled to give it a thought. There was so much meaning hidden in that simple statement which came out directly from a child’s mouth who was yet to experience the realities of life. It was an in-manipulated and unadulterated thought straight out of an innocent mind. Those words also reflected a lot of positivity whereby her statement clearly meant that she always wanted to be the ‘New’ her and never be an ‘Old’ her. Do we grown-ups really make life difficult and unpleasant for ourselves? It would be so good if with every passing birthday we could celebrate the newness i...

Last year, on this day I had got the privilege to visit Baroda for the kite flying festival-Uttarayan! I feel blessed that I got the opportunity to witness this festival in the very land itself which celebrates it with so much zest and vigor! My husband’s cousins live in Baroda. The two young girls were super enthusiastic in ensuring no stone is left unturned to make this festive experience memorable for us. So, the day before itself they bought dozens of large, colorful kites also called as Patangs. Some of them were beautifully adorned with bright hues and designs. These kites were made of thin butter paper. The dori (strings) of the kites are used to cut down other kites during the kite flying event. They are called the fighter kites. Unlike that of the ordinary kites, the strings of such kites need to be coated with glue and ground glass so that they are sharp enough even to cut through the skin. These strings are then rolled up onto the firkees. Thus, we were all set w...

I woke up this morning to realize how cold and chilly it was outside...To sleep co zily inside my warm blanket was what my mind insisted me to do...but my heart, on the other hand, wanted me to reach out and enjoy the freshness of the morning dew, to feel the drizzles on my face, to embrace the mist and cuddle warmly inside my cozy warm sweater while the soft breeze brushed my face as I enjoyed the beauty outside from my balcony. A h ot cup of tea would indeed add to the glory! So off I went into my kitchen and set the t ea pot on fire....I added a spoon of tea powder into the boiling water, and it’s the aroma that greets u which is the best part I like..I spend at least a few seconds enjoying the aroma of boiling tea powder!! Wow, what a pleasant fresh feel it gives...And finally as my tea is ready I walk out into my balcony and take a hot sip!! Just then I hear a little bird resting on a nearby tree chirp...a soft breeze blow and I have the best time of my day!! Nothing could b...

This was the first poem that I wrote. I was 10 yrs old then. But even today it is my favorite. I dedicate this poem to the best, most wonderful mother in this world, my mother:). This is how it goes... The beautiful song of the birds, Captures the heart of mine, And I sink in their song, When I have a heavy heart. The cold wind blows, Down to my heart, And I give up my temper, When I have a heavy heart. But the most I like, Is the song of my Mother, Which soothes my heart, When I have a heavy heart.

The overnight mission of scaling Mt Fuji, the toppling tumbling experiences of skiing, the mind-blowing experience of sky-diving, the holy feeling of the shrines, the charm of spending lonely hours with my sketchbook and so many more of my experiences that I always wanted to share...I wondered how and where… And here I get my answer… I start to Blog! So with hopes to have some fun here and not bore my readers much, I get going into this new venture...