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Inter realms






It's been long...
A very long time since a time with you
for this had been engaged
engaged in the tantrums of the myriad windows
windows that make this what it is

It is yet an undiscovered psyche
psyche, let me not call it one
One which denies the inner
the inner that craves
craves for fame
fame for esteem
esteem by relations
relations from shallow ponds

Ponder, it ponders it's state
stating unanimously of it's grave realm
realm, which it considers not to be grave.

Being grave is the harmony that it chose
It chose to be received rather than to retreat
Retreat, oh. It wasn't an option.

An option that cost it solitude
Solitude, yet not unhappiness
unhappiness, how could it dwell?
That which dwelt is you.
You are unwelcome
unwelcome, it says

It says, it cannot be
be in harmony yet in solitude
solitude, as you aren't a companion
companion? It probes.

It probes me, for I talk for you.
You stay dormant 
dormant, never speak for yourself.

Your windows open only to it,
it yet denies to see through your windows.
Windows? What do I see through them?
They are bolted 
bolted when I peep through.

I laugh maniacally 
maniac, I am. I am latent
latent in my own sphere, as I've been,
been engaged with the two of you.

Who am I? You?

Photo 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…