It was almost like the sepia filter was turned on,
On the old forgotten roads.
Not a soul to be seen on the muddy streets.
He rode a bicycle and sang songs from the 80s.
He hurried home,
Saw his little daughter waiting for him at the porch.
They went inside hand-in-hand,
And found awaiting –
A bowl of hot rice
Steaming hot sambar
& crunchy papadam
That made his belly rumble and grumble with joy.
He sat down immediately to eat,
From the kitchen came his wife shouting,
“Wash your hands before you eat!”
All of a sudden, he woke up from his sleep.
Found beside him a white lady in green.
He wondered to himself,
“Which one of this is a dream?”

By Her Side

I am not a dragon,
I do not have a horde.
I am trapped inside this empty dark cave
With no shiny heaps of gold.

I wander aimlessly in the darkness with no real goal.
I wonder what’s in my destiny,
Is there a purpose for this existence?
I curl up in a corner and sleep like every other day.
But, who’s here today?
A little boy has walked into the cave.

He stands in front of me fearlessly and smiles.
I snarl, smoke rises from my nostrils.
He steps forward cautiously, his hand reaching towards me.
I curl deeper into the cave.
He waits patiently, his soul emitting an aura of kindness.
I rise up and breathe fire.
The boy as small as a shrimp near my feet,
Watched me in awe with no fear.
The cave was no ordinary one,
The fire melted the layer of soot away and revealed walls of gold.
The cave shone like the sun in the darkness of the night,
With a mighty dragon queen and a little boy as a guiding star by her side. 

Sunny days in June

It was noon, sometime in June, when the wildflowers had started to bloom.
A straw hat on the head for the groom and a dusty pink gown for the bridegroom.
In the golden light of the summer sun, people glittered like shiny pearls.
Glasses clinked, lovers winked, kids frolicked holding orange ice cream.
Eyes sparkled with merriment, there was a magical happiness in the air.
Celebrations, weddings, garden parties, on sunny days are always the best.

Photo by Hassan OUAJBIR on Pexels.com

Soon

Dreaming of low tides,
Long nights under the moonlight
Sitting around logs set on fire
Upon white sand and
Mountains looming under dark skies.

Sea breeze muffles our voices
As we share stories
Holding mugs of warmth
In our mitten covered hands
There’s always so much to say,
To listen,
To laugh,
With friends around
There’s no track of time.
Soon.
Those days will come soon.

Photo by Vlad Bagacian on Pexels.com

Smoky Chimneys

The monochromatic room
Speaks in a whispered volume
Through the window by the bed
I look outside at the pouring rain
Holding a cigarette.
Hazy smoke fills the air
Blurring the 70-square foot room
I close my eyes
Listen to the sound of the pouring rain
Holding a cigarette.

In some kind of a dreamy state
Feeling some kind of euphoric sense of freedom
Smoke rises from the chimneys of old roofs
The world has turned grey
From the streets and the skies to the walls of the room
Like the falling ash
Like this metallic chair
On which I sit in my white underwear
Taking in a deep drag
Feeling the sharpness of the smoke
Buzzing through my mind
Through my bare naked feet
It feels right
I wonder why?
Why does everything bad have to feel so good?
The heaviness
The carelessness
The messy sheets
The art on the walls –
The only thing worth holding on to.
This greyness in the air
Is like a song that plays
In some corner of the mind
This greyness in the air
Brings out the freak inside
Looking up at the sky
With one foot on the chair
and one hand resting on the knee
Holding on to this burning desire
A grey wisp of smoke curls in the air.

Holding on to all that’s present in this
Dull artistic greyness
Writing away all that I want
All that I feel,
Old memories come back to life.
Where has that girl gone?
Disappeared like thin air
Into the mist
Reckless and bold,
Sassy and cold.
Hidden somewhere deep inside
Safe in a grey corner of my mind.

Photo by Valeriia Miller on Pexels.com

City of Lights

City of stars
Are you shining just for me?

City of stars
There’s so much that I can’t see

Who knows?
Is this the start of something wonderful and new?
Or one more dream that I cannot make true?

One of my favourite songs from one of my favourite movies for one of my favourite cities in the world. New York ❤

Cafe and Rain

Every time it rains, I go to a cafe.
It’s a blessed land.
It creates an ambience of love.
The comforting homey aroma of warm baked food welcomes you.
The soothing, mellow background music makes you settle in.
The large glass windows are so inviting,
You can while away time dreamily looking outside,
Watching the raindrops and the empty black wet streets.
The warm yellow lights of the cafe elevate the romance in the air.
The rustic wooden interiors bring back that old world charm.
Oh and the mesmerizing, divine scent of coffee,
How it draws on my soul!
That tempting, sinful indulgence.
There’s something about the smell of coffee, I tell you.
That strong attraction!
This is where all the yoga sessions come into play.
Deep deep inhalations and a long sigh of satisfaction.
Somehow wrong but feels so right, perhaps like an extra marital affair.
As I call myself a chai lover.
But, who can deny the combination of butter croissants and coffee.
It’s a match made in heaven, don’t you think?

Now, the best part about cafes is,
Somehow nobody bothers you.
No one gives a second glance.
When you are being all dreamy and pensive by yourself.
It’s like.. they understand that feeling.
Especially these cute lil neighbourhood coffee shops.
Totally love their relaxed vibe.
Everyone is lost in their fancy world of imagination.
You can just sit alone with food and coffee.
Writing down notes on a piece of paper,
Borrowing a pencil or a pen from the attendants.
Or, you will often find someone sitting in a corner reading a book.
Or, somebody with headphones crouched on their laptop.
Or, a couple –
Sitting cozily on a couch
Lost in each other’s eyes.
Or, you will find a group of friends,
Sharing stories excitedly and giggling.
Or, you see a tired soul,
Just stopping by to relax the bones.
Whatever be the reason,
Coffee shops don’t really care who you are.
They just let you be.
Content.

Photo by Huu1ef3nh u0110u1ea1t on Pexels.com

Did you like the post? If yes, then I would love to know what you think about coffee shops. Leave a comment down below, like, share, and follow. Thank you! ❤

What Do the Trees Say?

What would happen if the trees in a forest got into a conversation?
What do you think they would talk about?
Would they compare their heights?
The lusciousness and colors of their leaves..
Talk about the texture of their bark?
Would they discuss in lengthy sways about the weather and the winds?
How hot the summer would be this year..
How the previous winter dried the very roots and shoots of their being,
Almost a near death experience!
When it rains would they get romantic,
Secretly extending their roots to hold hands underneath the soil?
Will one tree get jealous by the blooming blossoms of another?
Or upset that the birds always flock to that one cool tree?
Will they discuss who’s the new kid around the woody block?
On a full moon night would they share stories,
Of how they grew in the shade of their father –
From a little sapling to a mighty tree?
Do they get annoyed with the travelling band of monkeys,
Who seem to tickle them as they go swinging by?
Do they wonder about the creatures of the forest,
Of their quick and meaningless lives?
Do they smile at each other, shake hands, or nod heads?
So, what do you wonder my wondrous trees?
Wish I could sit down and listen to you speak.