When I was a treasure, when you held the map
Dearest luv, It's 5:14am in Srinagar, and I sit on the front porch, facing the Dal Lake typing my love to you. Bidding farewell to Ganga gets only more difficult every year. Teary as the goodbye was, I pleaded the river to call me back sooner than later. The train from there to Jammu wad... Continue Reading →
Dearest luv, Temperatures have reduced by 10° here, thanks to the rain. But I was wrong about Ganga turning muddy in effect. Untarnished, unblemished she flows with the same divinity as described in our mythology. Why do we call our literature 'mythology'? Myth, in its very essence means lies. मिथ्या, that which is fiction. Our... Continue Reading →
Dearest luv, We have in company today a raging Himalayan rainstorm. I hope you breathe it in with your arms wide open. Sweeping winds, bellowing trees, and thunder claps loudly frictioning against black clouds: it's the best time to go looking for wild elephants you know, and also the most dangerous. I've never been able... Continue Reading →
Dearest luv, My mornings begin before sunrise here. Simply because you just can't afford to miss a sunrise in the mountains. Do you paint? I wonder why I don't know the answer to that already, it's so basic. Anyway, the closest analogy I could find for the today's sunrise was God trying to decide what... Continue Reading →
Dearest luv, My love for railway stations predates Harry Potter, or well, maybe it doesn't. Memory is fuzzy all of a sudden. But I do consider them as teleporters of sorts. Better ones than regular apparition models, because I don't end my journey feels nauseated and I get to enjoy the en-route-view! For all my... Continue Reading →
A humble dedication to the poet behind the resplendent blog 'Lifetime of Thoughts' and a small token of congratulations on his successful completion of NaPoWriMo by a proud follower.
He’s the writer. She’s the (re)blogger.
He strung his guitar. She cleared her throat. Love was in the tune.
He got a haircut. She charged him for it. Love was in the lack of obligations.
He was cold and indifferent. She was loud and mean. Love was in cold fires.
He was the silence of the mountains. She was their solidity. Love was Himalayan.
He ate his lunch. She made him cook for her. Love and starvation stayed separate.
He worried for her. She dared, made him proud anyway. Love was in each other’s goals.
He was impatient and calm. She was sensible and impulsive. Love was in a mismatch.
He stayed headstrong and won. She stayed heart-strong and won. Love was win-win.
He picked goodness over luxury. She picked joy over prosperity. Love was happiness.
He bought a dog. She bought a dog. Love was 2 people and 2 dogs.
He gave his money away…
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In the middle of this Insanity In the middle of this rainstorm I found my reality I found a place called home.