Thank you, Typewriter


“What is love?” He asked.
“I don’t know. Don’t think anyone does. Maybe that’s why its fascinating. Beautiful.
Aren’t we always attracted towards unknown thing?”

And to bleed…

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And the to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

– Khalil Jibran

Words Over A Cup of Coffee

She always found it so easy, natural to put it right, speaking her heart out when she was with the two loves of her life: him and the coffee. The steam from the coffee blurred his face and it looked so serene, so unnatural to her. “I love coffee. And you, of course.” he said. “What is it that you love so much about coffee?” she asked him not understanding his sudden love for coffee. “You are infectious.” he replied. “That’s not the answer to my question.” she said. After looking at her for what seemed like immeasurably long minute he said, “Coffee makes you speak. It is as if there is absolutely nothing in this entire world that can hold your words back. Cage you. The fluency is impeccable. Even though most of the times it’s gibberish, I see your words breaking their own boundaries and defying their own state of gravity. It’s an exquisite sight.”
She sighed heavily. So much more to those words and he just noticed their urgency, she thought.

Why, oh why?

I’ve never seen a city bleed so openly, so fearlessly…

How can a city be so heartless and tolerant at the same time? How can it take so many lives and bleed endlessly, silently without complaining? The questions made me think of the people who are responsible for turning this land of diversity into a land stained with innocent blood.

‘Why can’t these people leave the city alone and go take care of their own lives? Like you and me, like normal people. Worry about the everyday mess that life is. Maybe about the dramatically rising petrol rates, shortage of electricity, the ups and downs in aloo piyaas kay daam, an annoying neighbor, a wife who wouldn’t stop whining, a flat tyre, a daughter who might be pregnant, a son who’s secretly smoking or a friend who might be dying of cancer?’ I said. And the only reply I got was helpless looks from my family.

I stood up and left the room shutting the door behind me, completely and utterly disgusted by the looks on my family’s faces.

The pity, the grief I’ve always had was all of a sudden replaced by anger. Something more stronger, filled with unknown hatred. Something that lead me to thinking about ways to bring change, for I know that this city needs more than just helpless stares.

Picture Courtesy: Kachee Goliyan


I stood still, wrapping my arms around my torso, eyes adjusting to the darkness, and in that moment I heard my heart break. It was a small, pain-filled sound, like crushing a dried flower’s petals.

I saw the world blurring in front of my eyes, looking like those never washed color pallets. A giant mixture of hues, mixing, blurring, fading.

I knew it then. I knew I was sinking.

Look For The Girl With A Broken Smile…

Sometimes I just feel like giving up, she said. I looked at her, critically. She looked pale and tired, her eyes gave away more than she thought they did.

Its been a while since we have had those ‘Our chats”, but not a single day has passed without recalling those memories. The days passed looking outside the window, counting cars and talking about strangers. The nights, on the other hand, were always full of her unending stories and the sound of her laughter. The best part of my childhood.
She looked at me with eyes full of questions. Questions I knew I couldn’t answer. Questions I knew have been haunting her for a while now. Questions she expected me to answer.
You need to stay strong and keep holding on, I said.
‘You mean keep faking the smile till it becomes legit enough to fool others and myself ?’
Her words left me heartbroken. The place she has in my life can never be replaced. Nothing I do can ever compensate what she has done for me. I don’t even know if I tell her this enough or not.
May be I just assumed that she knows. I’l make sure I don’t assume that again.