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The Unfinished Letter

Dear Love,

Hope you have reached safely. Now that there is snowfall, you won't have to venture out for long. I have set the photograph atop the mantel. The fireplace looks deserted. As if it is missing someone. You know who that is.

Emmy's cheeks turned pink today. Her cheeks look like those apples. For some reason, she doesn't smile anymore. Did you notice it while you were here ? I also see some random children walking about in the house. Emmy says they have always been here. I do not understand. Its you who has always been there, my love.

I have this feeling that I am getting old. Did you notice any grey hair ? Or even worse- wrinkles ? Tell me if you have. We must be together. We are young, Emmy is a kid but she needs a sister. Or even a brother. You must come back soon. Or I shall go there with Emmy. Life has been kind to us but we can't take anything for granted.

I hear someone calling me. Oh my God ! That looks like you. You're back ...


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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.