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Dear  You,
It has been long since we met. I lost those pink slippers you had gifted me . I could not find more of  them. Get me those when you come.
Did I say I missed you ?  You were supposed to come over, right ?  Did you forget  ? Or changed your mind ? Or is it something else ?
I got your flowers on time. Come over as soon as you can. Bring some warm clothes as well. I guess its on the upper shelf of your wardrobe. And please don’t make a mess if you can’t find it.
 I shall be waiting for you. Maybe we’ll plan something.


Me said…

All your posts are sweet surprises.
Thousif Raza said…
sweet innocent lovely :)

Take care and keep writing........
☆ Rià ღ said…
So innocent and beautifully done.
Nidz said…
enjoyed the write up
Phoenix said…
I found tears running down my face... i dont know why... maybe i saw a bit of me here...a bit of me that has lost iself in the sands of time...

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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 


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.