Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

 "Rain, Robins, and Relentless Cheer: I was sipping my coffee and watching the endless rain through my kitchen window. It had all gone dark and cold, with a drizzle adding to the misery. I felt like I was trapped in a scene from a particularly dreary British novel, where the only exciting thing to happen is when someone misplaces their umbrella. But then, something caught my eye—a fluffy robin hopping around in the garden. Despite the downpour and the November-like gloom ( in the middle of May), this chunky little bird was out there, pecking for worms and perching on my beautiful plants, which had somehow managed to burst into colourful blooms. I was amazed by its tenacity! Here I was, contemplating my life choices over a cup of coffee, and this robin was having the time of its life. Enter Kiran, our in-house Wikipedia, who decided to add his two cents to the mix. He said, "Did you know that in cold weather, birds can't grow a thick winter coat like many mammals do? Inste

  Loneliness and solitude: the twin siblings of alone time, like two flavours of an ice cream—one delightful, the other a bit sour. Living with them is like hosting a neverending sleepover with your weirdest relatives.  It all began when I decided to move to a different country. Boom, just like that, I found myself alone in a foreign apartment, surrounded by the kind of silence that could make a pin drop sound like a drum roll!. Pascal once said, “The eternal silence of these infinite spaces fills me with dread,” and buddy, he was definitely on to something. First to arrive at the pity party was Loneliness. Imagine this: me, sprawled on my couch like a deflated balloon, munching away those ready salted crisps, wondering why Netflix doesn’t have a “talk to me” feature. Loneliness is that awkward guest who overstays their welcome, whispering sweet nothings like, “No one loves you,” while you reread a “haha” text from your friend, trying to decode if they really laughed or just pitied you

 Picture this: I'm in the middle of what feels like an episode of "The Twilight Zone" where promotions are as rare as unicorns, success seems to be on vacation in the Bahamas, and my bank account is giving me the silent treatment. Seriously, it's like my money has developed its own escape plan and ditched me for a better life. So here I am, feeling about as low as a limbo dancer's bar, scrolling through astrology and numerology websites like they're my last hope for a winning lottery ticket. Because, you know, maybe the alignment of the stars can finally explain why my life resembles a comedy of errors. I catch myself staring into the abyss of my closet, wondering if my clothes are secretly plotting a rebellion against me for neglecting them. Like, sorry, shirts, I promise I'll take you out for a spin once I've cracked the code to success and can afford to wear you to fancy parties instead of just Zoom meetings. And let's talk about my kids. I love