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The colour of one's soul is reflected in deeds, not in words.


Dhanya said…
True! (And yet again..)
Amal Bose said…
thats so true.. its wat u do that counts not wat u say u can..
soin said…
but sometimes u cant do what u want to or have to do.. but the heart yearns for it
Anonymous said…
simple and true! :)
sAu said…
Yeah ..
Its absolutely true.

Action Of Reaction tells everything ..
Jogeshwar said…
How true.... congratulations on ten.. waiting for many more to come
Thousif Raza said…
so beautifully said, so beautifully, excellent as always :)

take care and keep writing............
Harshita said…
Well said... so wats the color of my soul?? ;)
Priya Joyce said…
you're simply so wise re :)

hw true..
Hemanth Potluri said…
so nice sis...and the truth reflects in it...

ANWESA said…
@all those who've read and cared to react,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart!!!
ANWESA said…
hmmm...but then you always do what you want to,sooner or later.In a different way.
ANWESA said…
truth is the color of your soul dear!!
ANWESA said…
@lil' priya,
a special thanks to you!!!
lotsa love...

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I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.


Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017