Brown Pages

The musty smell of old books, so intoxicating, that you can almost taste it.

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Stronger Than Yesterday

I am a different version of myself each day.

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Rainy Day Musing

It has been raining since past few days. Everyday the sky is gloomy and full of thick, angry-looking, stormy clouds. With no sunshine, the grey clouds break open in the evening, sometimes in the afternoon or morning even and then through the whole day, turning everything grey and cold.

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Naked Soul

She looks at her reflection in the large wooden-framed mirror. Behind her the rain falls on the window, making a soft sound. It’s a grey, grey day – the girl in the mirror says. She sees a girl. A girl who loves words. A girl who loves to write. A girl who often gets lost in the world of beautiful words. A girl who stays up to write… yet, who finds it very difficult to express herself. And at times when she can’t, she so hates it and wants to run and hide.

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Some Places Are Like Poems

“गहरी नीली शाम, सर्द बर्फीली हवा,
बारिश की कुछ हलकी बूँदें
कांगडी़ की ज़रा-सी आंच
दूर बादलों से झांकते ऊँचे-ऊँचे पहाड़
कच्चे-पक्के ख्वाब-सा, ज्यादा-ज्यादा सच-सा, एक जहाँ हसीं-सा …”

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No Matter What You Do

No matter what you do, or don’t do, someone (or a lot of them) is always going to judge you, label you. Let them.

Sometimes, even those who claim to understand you will judge you. Let them.

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Just a thought

~Musings~

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She calls me Zeba

A dream… a story… a memory…

I lay on the prickly brown-green grass, reading a book. I have a lot of time here, in this dream. This little town in the lap of mountains pampers me. I feel like a child in possession of peace and happiness again. I don’t worry about the bills, the job, the monies, the false friends, and even the repercussions of being ‘myself’ with kin. I am far away from all that – I’m with happiness here.

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I know her as Bombay

She has beauty and charisma. She is vibrant and has an undying spirit. Every breath – a rhythm, she is bustling with energy and a fire in her belly. They call her Mumbai – I have known her as Bombay – a city with a soul.

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Musings in Mountains

Do I always have to have a plan? Who decides this for me?

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