she is still a mystery

now I know her
but still she is far
too far to reach
too close to see
too distant to contact
too near to feel the presence
she is known
but still unknown
she is there
but still not there
she is like a mystery
whom you can’t see
but still can feel the presence


What’s her name?

She is far

She is near

She is close

She is distant

She is

She is not

She is the one

She is every one

She is here

She is there

She is everywhere, sometimes

She is very difficult

She is very easy

I can see her

I can feel her presence

But can’t know her

But the question is

Who she is?

What’s her name?

Smoking Cool Lady

At 9 AM, she used to come in driveway and smoke everyday. My arrival time was around 9:15 until I find out her timings, observing her daily going into lift for 15 days. I began to come at 8:55, keep standing besides my cycle and incessantly looking her. I liked the way she used to stand holding the smartphone in one hand and put the cigarette in her mouth. The way she used to take every puff and blow out the smoke out of her mouth, she seemed to enjoy each moment of her smoke. She was so calm and cool that she had to use lighter or matchsticks to smoke.

she was so cool


I used to feel icy

when I looked at her.

she was like the river

which is flowing

and also not flowing,

I wanted to be the wind

who would

synchronize with her flow,

disturb the calmness inside her pleasantly,

always remain in touch,

whisper softly in her ears,

play with the flow,

and get along with the stream eventually.

For a whole month I observed her every day at same place, while sitting at my bicycle or standing beside it, her whole act of smoking used to bring smile on my face. I wonder why they say “smoking is injurious to health”, it was very healthy for me and for her too as she seemed more beautiful and healthy with each day passing by. One day I went to her and asked for a puff, I took a blow and coughed  and she began laughing. “why did you come if you don’t smoke ?”, She asked.

I said  “I just wanted a puff”

“Liar”, she said.

“I like the way you smoke.

You are so calm.”

She laughed.

Our eyes met and we passed a smile. I asked her for coffee, she said yes and then we went for a coffee. We went to Starbucks for three days and thus, we began to hang out. This continued for a while. We played music together, ate ice creams and had had great time.

I asked why did she smoke ?

She replied “why don’t you shave?”

I remained silent.

I shut up and we kept hanging out the way we used to.

She was 29,

I was 21,

she used to call me, “the kid

and I used to call her, “the lady”.

She never let me smoke

I never let her shave my beards.

One day we decided to go on an adventure in which we would board the first train we’d  see and then go on traveling for at least 2 months. For continuous 7 days after we decided on the adventure, we began going to each other’s place. Everyday we drank wine, talk continuously until we slept. Then the day comes when we were moving our adventure. We were coming from two different routes to railway station. We took first train but different trains, she reached there first and took the first train. I got a letter from a kid along with our photo.


The kid,

I am here first and as per our promise, I am boarding the first train I will see. I read your diary when I came to your place last night. I am very much touched after I read those beautiful words. I am handing this letter to a kid with our photo, I hope he will be able to deliver this letter to you. Bye. Miss you.

Have a great journey, see you soon if we may.

Your Lady.

 now whenever I miss her

I go to that place

imagining she is smoking there

holding up the cigarette between her fingers

and slowing playing with the smoke

her eyes were so gorgeous

that smoke around her

appeared like clouds in front of moon.


the thread

being attached to a thread,
the thread drags me,
the thread makes me run,
the thread makes me walk,
sometimes it’s tight,
sometimes it’s loose,
the thread becomes the reason to breath,
the thread becomes the motive to give in,
the thread tests me,
it pushes me,
it gives me bruises,
it gets the controls over me,
I can’t slip it,
sometimes it comes in the form of family,
sometimes friends,
sometimes love,
the other times just the fantasy
the thread is all I have got,
the thread is life.