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I need a painter.

*pause* *grin*

Do not grin like that. I know what you are thinking.

What was I thinking ?

About  painting, Titanic 3D and you-know-what.

Ah ! You are so perfect at reading my mind.

You doubt it ?

No, I’m proud of you. I’m lucky to have you.

You don’t have me. I’m still thinking, remember ?

Well, if you keep thinking all your life about me, it is fine by me.

Shut up !

Is that your favourite word ?

No. It is my way of expressing disgust.

So what is your way of displaying a few other  better emotions ?

What do you mean ?

You know what I mean. Remember ?

Shut up !

By the way, you said you needed a painter. I paint well.

Really ?


Then come to my place tomorrow at 10 in the morning .

Really ?

Really. Sharp at 10. I’ll tell you what needs to be done.

Seriously ?  You are that particular ?

Yes. When it comes to painting my house, I’m very particular about colours.

Gosh ! I thought it was something else.

I knew what you thought of.

Really ?

Yes, you need to read  my thoughts perfectly. Only then I’ll switch off my thinking mode.

And get on doing-mode ?

Shut up !  


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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