There’s something about an empty house that resembles an empty heart. You choose the house, imagining how you will furnish it: a sofa here, a dining table there, a table lamp on the side of the bed, your guitar resting in one corner. It looks good in your eyes & you rent the place. It’s the most beautiful place you have ever lived in. You tell yourself you’ll never leave this place. It’s home.

Then you keep adding more & more stuff, sometimes much more than home can take. The clutter piles up, the breathing space is stolen, it starts to feel claustrophobic. You fear throwing things away. What if it makes your house less livable? One day, it rains & cracks show up. Water leaks, termites gnaw through the dilapidated furniture, the drain clogs up. You call plumbers, carpenters to fix, but in that moment, frustration creeps in. You start feeling you’d be happier away, in a new home. You pack up. Move. Last day when you look at the empty house, after a long time, you are struck with a rare sense of grief. For a moment, you feel maybe you can repair, make this house your home again. Just then, a drop of water falls on you from the roof & removes every speck of doubt. You shut the door.

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कभी "शक" का चश्मा उतारकर देखिये ज़नाब।
हर रिश्ते में प्यार भरे रंग नज़र आने लगेंगे तुम्हे।।
" सुप्रभात "

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Zero CRITICISM? Sorrounded with only ADMIRERS? Boss!! Believe me you are doing SOMETHING dangerously WRONG in LIFE!!

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If there were no borders i would travel to the heavenly God to scold him for his deeds and would spurn his law of life and death.

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जिद ये थी उन्हे की हम ही कुछ कहे ।
हमे ये गिला था कि वो क्यों चुप रहे ।
थी मजबूरियां और ये फासले ,
चाह नही थी फिर भी बढ़ते रहे ।

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वो आये मुस्कुराए - कुछ गुफ्तगू इज़हारे मोहब्बत - और इक दिन चले गए।

अंजान दिल कहता वो सायद मेरे हैं - फिर खबर मिली वो -
खैर छोड़ो

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From
Sharing secrets
To
Hiding truths
We all grew up...!

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While ending the call, keep it with smile, loving words or blessings and even a small talk become success. If you are spending half an hour and while ending the call, you become angry and start speaking rudely, half an hour becomes waste of time and hurts alot.

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Become humanitarian.

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നിന്നെ ഞാൻ
മറക്കുമെന്നാൽ
അന്ന്,എല്ലാ
ഓർമ്മകളിൽ
നിന്നുമുള്ള എന്റെ
മരണമായിരിക്കും..

നീ എന്നെ
മറക്കുമെന്നാൽ
അന്ന്,
ഞാൻ എന്ന
എന്നിലെ എന്റെ
മരണമായിരിക്കും..
_©Soumya Gopalakrishna

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