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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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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 


The eyes searched someone. The one she could run to at times of need. In someone’s lap, she would pour out all her troubles.
Nobody came.  She grew up, rimmed her eyes with kohl. But they could never hide her tears.
No one came when her soul was ripped apart. No one heard her cries. No one mourned her loss.
After  a while, she thought that tears were a part of the eyes.