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In quest of...


The time was lonely,
while my day cast stars
stars, unseen by the night.

I was howling through the bamboo,
rustling onto the leaves
stifling from the beggar's yawn and 
roaring into the tide.
yet I was with none but me
in wanderlust, in quest of glee.

I was caressing the ripples of the lake
glimmering through the creak of a door
shimmering onto the mirror that held a smiling face
ablaze on the heated coarse sand.
yet I was with none but me
in wanderlust, in quest of glee.

I was meditating upon the shambles of soil
casting colour onto the solemn' main 
setting destinations for their wings to flap
cleaving between day and night.
yet I was with none but me
in wanderlust, in quest of glee.

I was coarse yet firm,
bore their footsteps without frown
held their roots to my bosom
nurturing them to shoot and blossom.
yet I was with none but me
in wanderlust, in quest of glee.

I was told,
here is glee.
I am here to flap 
not flee.
 I broke some hearts
and told to me,
"you are with none but me
wandering yet rooted
in quest yet in glee."

I asked me;
"what are you in quest of, then?"
and it hit hard,
hard enough to not mend
"I am in search of me!"


Image courtesy: Internet


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If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet

To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012





















What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…