Blessed is the…

A compartmented repost from my post ” The Divinity of Love” posted on 17th of august in 2016…

“Today I went thru two such moments. No matter I see something like that everyday but noticing was what I did today. A cute little girl with her father! It soothes me a lot. Try it someday and see your lips curling to smile, effortlessly. I saw a girl, maybe five or seven in years, with her father sitting on their parked scooter along a roadside bhutta stall. They were sharing it turn by turn. It wasn’t like the father was the richest or was the bike was posh nor the girl was a hot teenager (which, I admit, is the only thing “expected” to hold people of my age at a place). They were turn by turn nibbling the unit bhutta ,happy and content in their world of two, disconnected from the surrounding. Sometime views like these arouse in me a feeling to be a father, of a girl child (don’t judge me as a sexist but I absolutely have no idea why a girl). To be laughing and fooling with my cute little daughter whole day round. To be tending her when she’s sick, to take her on long rides and enjoying roadside bhutta and chain rain, to be madly celebrating reasonlessly, to go with her on hikes and to play tricks on her mom with her, to go for ice creams mid nights, watching movies and never letting her lose her innocence. I feel it though I am too young a man to feel the rush of these elderly desires, but I do feel it. Given a chance I would love to forget for the rationality, the calculative me and be her loved father and crazy friend forever. Though I’m not expected to but I can feel the happiness of being called “Papa aaj office mat jao na…” by my cute daughter. Oh yes it is heavenly good feeling and I find myself doing injustice trying to comprehend it in words.”

The wind flinched ….

He was an image of the wind; sweat drops on my skin, he cooled me in a swing; a secret admirer, was he akin; danced on my lids, in blinks;

He flinched, one day, away caressing  till the last of my  hair;  so long, he is gone, still, like wind I feel him always around me.

What face of love is it?

Repost from one of my old post: “What face of love is it?”

…Sweet girl is Aditi. The kind of girl you feel like hugging, the kind of girl who smiles any pain off you, the kind which is innocent, the kind that is soft, the kind that is friendly, is strict, is cutely stubborn. She is one of those girls who hums bollywood, who cries for Indian cricket team, who sings madly, dances, lives. Her smile is one which demands attention. Her eyebrows, the way they dance above her eyes making all the expression of all the melodramatic daily soaps she has seen is a cherishable beauty, they perform drama, they question. Merely her brows are hypnotic enough to gain over the strongest willed person enough leave alone me. Her lips are the kind which I call ‘irresistible’. Her night black eyes behind her frameless are something which I have waited lives to look into. The impeccability of her face comes to me from the fact that even a bit of Photoshop makes her look akin to a Barbie. God only knows what she actually is, but whatever she is, impeccability is the only word that defines her.

May be I am exaggerating but isn’t that what a person in love is expected to look at the one, perfection. I don’t see it coz I’m expected to but because she actually is. So I love her, don’t know what exactly in her. Maybe her smile or maybe the way she exaggerates her dramatic expression, or maybe the way she cares for me, may be its simply the way she is; mad, wild, cute, lovely, graceful, beautiful and all. Whatever it is, I love her as madly as one can imagine….