She is
  • Author
  • Educationist
  • Leadership Trainer
  • Scuba diver
  • Swimmer
  • Patriot
  • Army Brat
  • Horse Rider

bhaavna arora

Official Website

writing is like sex; you don’t have to wait until you’re an expert to begin doing it!

~ bhaavna arora


A plea to all Indian men on woman’s day!

When I was on my way to Vienna from Zurich in 2012, with  fellow colleagues for my first paper presentation in the annual meet of European Council of Business Education, I came across a Korean girl sharing the compartment with us. We boarded the train from Wein Westbanhof and there […]

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Life was literally a race for Niki Lauda and James Hunt when they risked their lives against all odds just to finish one second before than the other. It required something beyond passion to have a reason to die for what they wanted to live up to.

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Taken or Not.
I can empathize.
Can you?

While watching the Hollywood Blockbuster, “Taken” where a father, a former CIA operative moves heaven and earth to save his daughter from a prostitution racket in Paris , I wondered, ‘How many daughters’ fathers are CIA operatives who can fight the world to save their daughters? Who can break bones, shoot people and jump over the bridges to ensure the safety of their daughters? Why do men react only when it comes to their own daughters? And sometime they don’t even do that.

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My selfish desire
Was like a barbed wire,
Why did the people object
Made fuss, condemn and reject?
Isn’t clay lifeless, sans the act?

My selfish desire
Was to be in such an attire,

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Grieve not my kinsmen
but just look around,
Behold! I’m reborn
in this cremation ground.

It wasn’t me

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Be caught in chains of mental slavery,
and then call it an act of bravery?
Only if we could free our warped minds,
and listen to the rhythm celestial that spellbinds.

Our little prudence first made cruel rules,
and now we ask, ‘weren’t we fools?’
We incarcerated ourselves into the cage,

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A moth is sacrificed to the candle
and for the thirsty a spring,
A true lover is a sacrifice to the loved one
be it a pauper or a king.

For being in love
no one can give the reasons,

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I measured time between his absence and presence,
I tried to listen to my heart
That was not ready to part
And now I measure time that prolongs our distance.
Like a lunatic, I waited for the full moon,
It was hard to be left behind

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Cheats connived to fleece my fortune,
Drums beaten to sully my name,
Hounds unleashed to lick my flesh,
Blood deceived to bleed my soul,

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