The best thing about being an introvert is that, you have this place in your heart and your mind which completely belongs to you. No matter where you go, you carry it with yourself effortlessly. The echo conversations in your head, which are often termed as overthinking; the zoning out of conversations where you don't feel the need to extend beyond your toleration limit. The power to reflect and recall. The sarcastic humour which is not displayed because it can easily offend (we care offending people because we introverts just don't get long conversations, let alone the heated ones) The only downside is that it all remains in your head, never comes out. After all it's a secret place.

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Handful wishes

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Gone are the times
Of tire and ire
Of confusion and halt.
Do what you feel like
Because this time won't revert
Your fate is calling
Engineer it your way.

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For once in my life I want to be the poem and not the poet,
Away from the worries of beginning and ends,
Not caring about the middle either,
Just existing like the phenomenon of God,
This desire to leave the worry about commas and rhymes behind,
Fills me in the hope of enjoying what I'm made up of,
Like loose threads hanging from the hemn of Ma's newly brought saree.
Like the entire saree loses its existence once the thread realises it's individuality.
I want to be the warmth for once,
Exploding like the sun in someone's heart.
I want to be rhythm to that heart.
I want to be 'love' and not loved.
I want to be a poem for once in someone else's diary.

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When the drama is over,
The sun decides to rest
The leaves sprinkle dew on grains of dust
The days cuddle and shrink in sprinting dreams
Hot Coffee makes friends with foggy morning breeze
The gods are up and tell the lightning roads.... pounding with drum.....Omg .....So much shor.
But I have my priorities straight.....warm food and blanket.

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that you never grow up. You always chase an ideal image of an elder and then suddenly you start admiring the young.

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Happy diwali 🪔

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It ends here

Shubra was elated by the idea of a promotion at her company. It was fast, unlike others. The corners of the office were gooing with steamy gossip. 'How is it even possible?' said Aditya who had been waiting for a promotion from past 1 year. Shubra got it in 7 months of her entry in the company.
'She's talented, they're trying to keep her', said the others.

Later it was known, that she had not only worked equivalent to three people but also negotiated a big company deal, in absence of the managing head.

So the hate fell upon her. One, she was better than the others and two, she was sitting on a golden pot.

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After the gulmohar tree died
Sunshine reached the ground that used to be under gulmohar's shade
In the end the more seeds sprouted
As if the death was something they were waiting for.

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I am the girl who passed by me yesterday on a busy market evening.
I am the guy who had confidence to face the brutality of his life with grace.
I am that mother who has the strength and brain of multi-tasking.
I am that child who loved to smile and giggle now and then.

But I am so me. I have the walk of the girl, the might of the guy and the resilienece of a mother. But wholy the child.
I am so me, because my walks, talks and balks don't define me, until you know where I am coming from.

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