For some days there was this deep sadness that has been grappling me, taking over my entire body as I tried to battle it. The days become longer even after the Sun settles and the noises around me dull down to almost inaudible levels. This sadness manifests itself in many ways, sometimes my poetry and sometimes other things such as my daily routine. 2020 had been a great year for me. I joined a job I’ve been waiting for three years now, got my first book published and many more things. However, the loss of my beloved Joy was something that I had thought I had recovered from.

It’s difficult sometimes being the strong one, keeping up a strong face for others so that they don’t break down. It’s a responsibility people rarely discuss. I remember my school days. Each day I attended my school, I was appalled. Didn’t want to go a single day. Didn’t have many friends and talking with others was such a big hurdle for me back then. (It still is but I can now reply in much better fashion than I did before. ) I would come back from school, watch cartoons with my brother for sometime and would then go back to studies. I wasn’t a person who would enjoy sports nor any outdoor activity as most sports required a social interaction, something I have feared for the good part of my life. Growing up is such an organic process that you wouldn’t even notice that you have grown out of your own shell. The things that could rile you up sometimes, now even don’t cross your minds, the happiness that would come so easily, eludes you when you work hardest for it. Earning more and more, big house, big car, pumping iron, botox, alcohol, women, drugs.  They bring you bouts of happiness, or just an illusion that your soul doesn’t crave for anything, for the moment. It is satisfied, its thirst quenched, it can finally close its eyes while it lays on the bed. But what happens when these fade off. The silences chase you to the far side of the moon and you grasp for air. For your air was that illusion, that moment that brought you happiness. After school, as the school bus dropped us at our house, me and my brother would run back to the house and the smell of freshly cooked food would bring wide smiles to our faces. I am still like this. Whenever an opportunity opens up at the office, I run back straight to the house. My house is my sanctorum, the place where I can be me and not someone I cannot like. Sometimes we would meet our father for lunch and we displayed the best of our behaviour. It was back then we thought that our father should be one whom we feared. He cannot be a friend. Times were different back then. He was trying his hardest to put food on our table and roof above our head. He wouldn’t talk much back then. But now when he has passed that phase of life, he has become our friend. Maybe he always was. Although, he has time now, but we two brothers have become someone else. 

Change is the only thing that’s permanent. I had heard that many times and wasn’t much an advocate of the fact, as being the person I am, I am a big fan of inertia. The rock should stay where it has stayed for long. Changes bring me anxiety, maybe anxiety is a strong word. Maybe my anxiety might not be as the way your anxiety behaves with you. But mine too takes me down a waterfall, sometimes even an endless tunnel that doesn’t seem to have any light at the end. My father keeps on asking us to sit with him and talk with him. Sometimes I want to, every fibre in me wants to, but then a thought floods my head and I just walk away from him. I want to provide a bigger house, a bigger car for him. The smell of food doesn’t fill my stomach any more.

Men have always been the provider, its embedded in their genes, just like motherhood is embedded in girls. We work hard, most of the times so hard that night becomes day and day becomes night. Its a strange paradox. The battle starts right from the day we fight millions of prospective candidates and become a living being in our mother’s womb. Nine months she carries us, taking care of the house she has been living,  a house that might sometimes be so strange to what she might have left back. We keep on fighting and not all the times for materialistic gains. The saint struggles to find God, the fool struggles to find gold, the hungry strives for grains, the clouds crave for land, the land wants to touch the sky. I’ve always heard people saying that you find Moksha when you are done with your responsibilities and that your work here is done. If Moksha was something so real and so tangible, wouldn’t we find it performing our responsibilities? I know all of this might sound too dramatic, even too dismal for people. Aren’t we failing as human race if empathy sounded of something weak, gullible. Shouldn’t we be “One for All, All for One.”? While going through some interviews I did for my book, I was asked what was really in my book. I thought for a while and could of all the poems think of one poem that I wrote :

The winds had thundered that day, 
As the earth trembled, 
And the oceans laid their chest bare open, 
When everyone took refuge in their homes, 
He took out his ship, 
Opened the mast up and high, 
Steered the little speck in the mighty sea, 
Towards the highest wave, 
That stood infront of him, 
As the ship climbed the wave, 
It reached the top, Rode the wave hard, 
It broke, it broke, it broke, 
The will of the sea, it broke,
The wave caressed the ship down, 
Onto its chest, 
The ship had tasted blood, 
The boy had become a sailor…. 

This poem was something I wrote during my darkest times to remind myself that there would always be something good at the end of tunnel, that there’s always a silver lining to a cloud, that after the storm, Sun shall shine bright again. It was this poem that I have turned to again and again when I thought myself to be not thinking straight, of thinking to embrace the darkness. I keep a happy face because this mind of ours is a very innocent being. You can fool it very easily. Just pretend that you are happy and it will listen to you. Think that you are sad all the time and it will think as such. This might be true for most of us. However, things tend to become way more complex for the people who cannot communicate their emotions to others in a way they want to. A link that they have craved for their entire lives and maybe will crave for the rest of their lives. It’s this feeling of paralysis, the virus that affects me most of the times. Words have always been my friend, they know my deepest secrets and they listen so carefully, almost like a communication that my mind has craved for eternities. It almost feels as one. I am not my usual self and I think that’s organic too. Maybe the inertia I desire is fictional. Maybe sadness wants to stay with me for sometime. 

I close my eyes, 
To see the stars,
Embedded in the garb of night,
They sing me lullabies to sleep,
The cold showers of twinkling light,
That calm my wounds,
And repair the skin around them,
For wounds don’t heal,
They never do,But the stars are kind,
They show me the path around the wounds,
I see the planets around them,
The many galaxies I could easily live,
The reality I want them to be……….

Symphonies of a curious mind

With excitement that knows no bounds, I present to you my first book.
The beautiful cover has been designed by my younger brother @kumar.shrey95 who has adorned this hard work of mine with his art.
This book is the result of endless sleepless nights and my thoughts that have come to me over the years.
Symphonies of a Curious Mind will be my first book and I need all of your support and blessings for the same.
Coming this 2020.
Thank you.


Dear Miss Yet To Come,

My apologies, if you would accept, for the delay in between my last letter and this letter that I am writing for you now. I have been really busy. But that cannot be an excuse for the delay in this letter. So, let me paint you a picture of what might be us whenever we meet.
I have been working really hard lately to make myself better, more mature for you, more than ever. Learning new things, new skills that might sway you off your feet. I don’t know if you have read my letters, but this one thing I am really proud of. I can make you see things that escape your eyes. The little tip of your nose that wiggles whenever you are too excited for a food that you really love, the sweet fragrance of your perfume that fills me with the feelings of summer, the silhouette you make on the bed everyday when you wake up. Moreover, I have been learning how to cook, so maybe we could share our time in the kitchen as well. Giggling and laughing just like teenagers. Age is just a number. We’ll make time for our little eccentricities everytime we think we are getting too real for the world. Sing aloud, dance un synchronously or even watch a romantic movie and cry endlessly. The bond between us would be real and that would be my foci, my epicentre, my constant, maybe yours too. The world changes by the second, but the real stays forever. I promise to hold you everytime you feel that love in the world is not enough for you, maybe you would do the same for me. I like to be pampered as well. I won’t ask from you. But then you know me. Or in time you will. I promise to love you when it’s the most difficult, when you think you are unlovable, put you in my arms and sing a song, just for you. I know you’ll do the same for me. You know how much i adore your voice. Its like a music box for me. The box opens and a symphony comes out of it. Every time. I know you laugh at my this analogy. But a feeling stays true even when the mind cannot comprehend it. Lately, it was really difficult to still define what love actually is. I took my time though, made myself involved in things that had made me believe in love in the first place. Trials and tribulations are a part of life. I told myself. So, I got back to my own little eccentricities. And just like that, everything seemed organic, easy. Because in life, sometimes we need a little break from things which drive us away from life. I have been trying to be in constant touch with my friends. They have been the strongest pillar of support along with my family, I am too excited you to meet. This letter was long overdue. The current situations demand we get back to our roots.

Everything is good here. I am good too. Better than before and still in the process of growing out of my cocoon. In a way we all do.

Hope you are doing excellent too. How’s everyone at home? Take care and try to stay indoors because we are fighting with an enemy which can disguise itself in any form.

Till then I’ll be waiting for you.

Don’t be late.

Hope to meet you soon.

With lots of love
Kumar Harsh

I am Afraid…..

What is fear?

Is it the sensation that always keeps you on your toes?

Or is it the shivers that runs down your spine every-time you experience the unexpected?

People say that fear has many effects on them. For some it acts as a catalyst, pushing them to their limits. For others it maybe be an inhibitor that chokes down their throats, making it hard to breathe.

I had once believed fear of the unknown is thrilling. The adrenaline rush, the rushlanes. Everything seemed so mystic, so divine that it felt as if its all part of a bigger plan. But things started to fall apart. My plan of becoming big at a younger age seemed a lost cause. And why did this happen? For starters it seemed easy. Accepting defeat at the hands of my greatest fear. It made me feel a little more relaxed than the days before. A little complacent, a little more aware of my surroundings. It felt as giving up on overcoming my fears is the practical choice as life is about moving on.

My fear was the fear of a failure because for the first time in my life, I got a real sense of what failure was like. Its like falling deep down an endless hole in the ground, like a piece of paper that drifts hopelessly in the wind without any purpose or worth. It started getting to my veins. Everything around me turned into a concoction of some serious malaise, something looking me every-time I ventured outside my zone of comfort or my room which had become my only partner in this journey. Its the time like these you realise that loneliness can both be a boon and a bane and that there would be times when you’ll want to be alone with just a few very important people, few very close, intimate people that may share the vision same as yours. Those people came to my life in the form of my loving family, my parents, brother, my two adorable pets and two of the most amazing people life gave me a gift of. This family, this little globe of mine soon turned into my cocoon which I could always be comfortable in because they had the audacity to care of anyone more than just themselves. They would listen to me break down everytime I would hit rock bottom, gave me the strength to stand again and face my fears. I had at one point of my life started to think that maybe this is my fate, that this is what I am supposed to do. But they made me believe otherwise. A bird has faith in its wings, they would say and make me take a leap of faith once again, everytime failure dragged me down and pinned me under.

This process, fighting your fear might look too complicated. It surely is difficult but maybe it isn’t such a conundrum as we might think it is. It isn’t about a timeframe or a test of anything thats physical. The body can do things only the mind can wonder. It isn’t a race either wherein you’ll be a winner only if you came at first. The world is replete with examples of people who dared to fail, who dared to think that maybe someday it would all be worth it, that maybe life is all about trying it until it gets done.

I have believed in the sanctity of dreams, the power of imagination and the will of the mind because these things are ingrained in a being right from the day one gets a heartbeat in a womb. Dreams are what makes us humans and trying to achieve them is the most humane thing to do until and unless it involves crushing down dreams or lives of others which in no religion or language or culture of the world is acceptable.

Fear is a part of the human psychosis and would be there for eternity. For fear is what makes a man do things that once he wouldn’t have ever imagined. Fear is necessary as the sudden rush of adrenaline gives you the horsepower to steam full ahead and barge on the doors of success until it finally breaks and lets you in.

So as I part with a little something that’s been going on with me for sometime now, I just want to tell you it’s okay to be feared. I am too.

You are stronger than what you think you are.


Where are you?

Dear Miss yet to come,

How are you? It’s been a long time since I wrote to you. Seasons have changed, the birds have flown from their nests, the old dilapidated house at the corner, remember? That couldn’t stand longer. It fell down. Everything’s been fine with me lately and I hope with you too. But we are too humans and as humans and the perfect law of nature, we change.

I don’t know why there is this feeling inside me that’s not letting me do anything. Usually it doesn’t make its presence felt. But when it does, I find sadness in almost anything. And you know how I rarely get sad, a little too emotional yes but rarely sad. Even the guitar lying next to me doesn’t inspire me to play it and get over it, the writing pad too, just growls at me with this I don’t know, a face that just doesn’t seem friendly. I sometimes wonder what it would feel like to share with you all this in person when you are lying along me in the open sky and wondering why the stars fall, who holds the moon up in the sky, why does a doughnut have a hole, or maybe why our hearts beat so slow when we are together. Remember the day, when you were sad about something that you didn’t remember. It’s something like that. The funny thing about it is that, how much I try to avoid it, it just comes bouncing back. The only thing sometimes I need is a your touch and not just physical, the intimacy we shared, mind, space and later the body that really was just another tune that we together create. I don’t know what’s difficult. Waiting for you or this thought that there is somewhere you as well, maybe waiting for me. Or have you found someone too good……

I wish you have that palm for me so that I may fill it with sometimes my hand, the flowers that your body absorbs so spectacularly or maybe sometimes this universe, our universe, our little world….

Waiting for you….

With lots of love.

Kumar Harsh

When I fell for her…. 

She wore a scarf, 
And a smile, 
She took my breath, 
All in a second, 
She was in a hurry, 
With bags so heavy, 
Running to someplace, 
Unknown to me, 
Days passed, 
And so did the years, 
One day I saw her again, 
In that old little cafeteria, 
She is way out of my league, 
Was my innocent assumption, 
She looked at me, 
And I looked away,
A man may sometimes lose all his senses, 
I looked back again, 
She smiled, 
And I immediately had a universal flight, 
She came up and sat next to me, 
I was Shivering like the baddest earthquake, 
She asked my name, 
And I shyly said, 
This is Harsh for you Miss, 
Miss… She had started saying, 
And I was lost in her voice so clear, 
We planned to meet Somedays later, 
Exchanged numbers and some awkward pleasantries, 
I was lost in her thoughts, 
So much as much I slept with shoes on, 
She had called later in the night, 
And had ended with a sweet goodnight, 
With each passing day, 
And with each night, 
It was impossible to stay away from her sight, 
Everyday she came in a dress so good, 
Sometimes in a gown, 
Or in her cool shorts, 
She would swing her hair around, 
And would let me sleep under their cool dusk, 
Sometimes she would be angry, 
Of things I would say out of being stingy, 
Then I would hold her hands, 
Hum in her ears, 
Of songs she loved, 
She would quickly let go, 
Her anger, 
And would hold me tight, 
As I swing her around, 
Like the earth does with her moon, 
Stare at her and make her go mad, 
Like she’s the one in my mind, 
And in the heart, 
And all places other, 
I would look at her while she made breakfast, 
Can I eat you, 
Would sometimes say, 
And she would run at me, 
With a burning spoon, 
Let me help you with myself, 
What time it would be, 
What would be the days, 
When we make a home so cozy, 
A little of me, 
A little of you, 
Together we would make the best couple, 
Sometimes a walk in the park, 
Maybe a swim in the lake, 
Or an ice cream in the middle of night, 
So much and so many, 
With you it would be all so creamy…….. 

Dear Ladies, 

Sometimes the men out there are too shy to reach out to you. We may be Superman during the times we are in a virtual world. But we do have a heart attack when we have to talk to you. So, please go out there and reach out to us. You’ll be amazed at how a sweet boy can quickly transform with you into someone you probably never knew.(there is not always a motive behind us being too nice. This I can say for me and atleast men like me. 🙂 ) 

Yours Sincerely, 

The men who don’t look you in the eyes while you walk past them or don’t look at you to make you uncomfortable or the ones who will open the gates for you and would listen to you when you want. It’s genuine compliment with us, always. Please don’t take it as our  motive for other things. 

Thanking you, 

The men out there. 

I don’t respect you. 

I have been watching the television a lot lately, mainly because anything productive was not coming out of me. As I was surfing through the channels I came across a reality show in which couples had to live with their in-laws before marriage, get to know them, learn about their culture and everything that would make them better Son-in-law or Daughter-in-law. In the episode, a man who wanted his fiancé to meet his parents asked her to dress up. He came to pick her up from her parent’s house and when he saw her he was bit taken aback. He had asked her to wear the traditional Indian wear and she was in the most casual dress one could ever wear. As he requested her to wear what he wanted, she threw up a fight. It might look completely normal when we see from a perspective of the girl but brings an all together different light when the thought process of a boy is taken in to consideration. 

Parents of nobody ever think ill of their children. No matter how much they grow up but for a parent they will always be their little child, the one they have spent their time and energy to make them someone they want them to be. No parent will ever want any harm to befall on their children and would never want them to make an outcaste, someone who is not a part of the society. So they feed their kids with values, with basic necessities of dealing with people so that they don’t lack at any place. These values form the basis of everything the child perceives. Sometimes the things he/she learns by themself,  helps him overcome something troubling him/her and sometimes he may remember how his parents dealt with a similar situation. The importance of what a parent teaches is not measurable. It stays with us at every part of life.

I, being born in an Indian family have always observed how my parents dealt with situations and people. The first thing they always did was to be polite because they always believe in seeing the reason behind something rather than raising their voice. But sometimes some don’t hear the polite, so they become the rudest person I have ever known. This is very fabric of adaptation that we as living beings have always taken very keen interest in. Studies conducted have shown life to evolve from Amoeba and as a single celled organism Amoeba needed to reproduce so that it may survive. It did and it did very simple and beautiful. It created parts of itself and created another being. Similar were the other levels of evolution. Fish came out of water to inhabit the land, so came the land animals. Then the sky had to be conquered, so came the birds. But then, someone had to maintain harmony among others, so more intelligent forms of life evolved. Home Sapiens came into existence or the more popular Humans as we all know. Adaptation was always the very essence of evolution. But evolution never meant starting from something new, it was creating something better of the already available. Do you see –  the already available. Yes, that’s the thing that helps evolution function. 

The programme I was watching had a twist of turn and the girl revolted against the decision his to – be husband had made for her. She cited the many modern laws in practice and told that this kind of thing is a thing of past. I was taken aback. Why would someone discard something that has been existing far longer than the lifetime of a single person, something that took a long time to come into shape, something that was infused with lives of the many who sacrificed themselves for the larger good they saw. 

Culture is the basic identity of a human being, more than any other living being.

Humans during the evolutionary process have realised that living  together is much safer and better than living alone and when we live together, we live as a single unit. Much like the cells of Amoeba, who when divided creates different but same organism. As humans came together and spread, they imbibed many things owing to the very ability to adapt. Some grew very tall, some grew very short, some developed a different skin tone, some were fast runners, some were heavy lifters. 

But all of them were the same. 

The circumstances, the environment, the situations made them what they became. But a man is nothing if he forgets his roots. If one day we decide, the only living thing that can live on this planet will be us, then apocalypse will come, nothing will remain. Similar is the case with culture. Kingdoms, many great Nations have fallen just because they thought of themselves more suitable than any other. But no civilisation ever flourished if they couldn’t adapt or in some form or other forgot their roots or started identifying themselves as other civilisations. Think this of if one day an elephant starts thinking itself of a dog, how will you take it out for a walk and the amount of you know what it would produce. You’ll be soaked in it. Or if someday you decide you want to be a bird or a Pizza(those things are addictive), God knows what may become. Possibilities here are unlimited. 

Modernity in the name of imitation is a preposterous concoction because then you won’t remain original.

 We live in a world of globalization, everything and anything is accessible to anyone who has the resources to get it. Ideas, things, people, money and cultures travel. Maybe not faster than light(because then how else will you be reading this) but it does travel at a pace which some may confuse as something better or something more likely to be ‘in fashion’. One must take pride in what they are because they have travelled a road to come where they are. It may not be a long distance but the fact that they kept moving is much greater than not moving at all or moving backwards. We can only appreciate the greatness of where we are only if we keep our roots in mind because no matter how humble roots were, they still are the strongest. But one should never let one’s pride blind him because once a great tree was a seed and once a now CEO of an organization started from the bottom. The example of Raavan is best suited here. Raavan was a pure genius. He was a scholar, an astronomer, a mathematician, an administrator, a warrior, a scientist, he had mastered the highest levels of meditation. But the only thing that killed him was his ego.

Pride can very easily turn into ego. The difference is hairline. 

I take pride(notice pride)  in wearing the traditional attire which has been laid down by my culture because that’s my very identity. I do sometimes wear what the dress code for a certain place demands but that doesn’t mean I would any day want to give away my identity for a new one. And why should I. There must be reason why we or for that matter any of us are the way we are. And it is perfectly fine if we don’t understand it right now but it will reveal itself to us one day. If some kind of attire brings happiness to the faces that mean a lot to us then the purpose is fulfilled. 

Respect is subjective. 

Respect for someone maybe touching feet of his elders or not honking unnecessarily when a person infront of you is as helpless as you are or maybe letting someone enter before you or maybe standing up when you speak to someone standing while you are sitting or listening to someone before you speak. Possibilities here as well are unlimited. But respecting the one’s and other’s culture is the most important of all because if it was not for respect, mutual coexistence would have never been possible. 

Later in the episode, the girl decided to wear Sari and she looked beautiful more than ever. 

The question I want to put up here is, what is your notion for respect. Mine is realising the presence of a living being in a surrounding around me. I may interact with you or maybe not but I still respect you until you do respect me and my presence and if you don’t, Then I have learnt a thing or two from my parents as well with a tinge of the globalized culture. 

I know five languages. 

Why blogging is better than other forms of social networking…..

This blog started when a friend of mine thought that I should write everything in one place. I remember the time before I started my blog. Coming with name took me a lot of time but then I thought of my motive of starting the blog. Just like geography or history, I wanted to create something unique, something that has never been used. Caring for art- Caringraphy that is how I came up with this name. Throughout my journey of blogging, there were days when I was disappointed. The first two years rarely anyone even read what I wrote except my close friends and my family. But I kept writing just because I wanted to write whatever I wanted to write. Not everything I wrote was good. But whatever I wrote was still mine. My blog started getting attention when I started using tags. 

The essence of blogging are the people who comment on whatever you have written. Feedback carries the writer and reader to the same level. It is just like the stream of river. The river carries the fish to its destination. 

I had stopped using other forms social networks when I had involved myself more and more with blogging. 

Blogging or blogosphere is one such space where the amount of exposure one gets is phenomenal. I have shared many experiences with so many people from so many different parts of the world which I couldn’t have even imagined if it was not for this wonderful space. Anyone and everyone can read and comment on whatever you have written and that is the beauty of WordPress. It doesn’t apply privacy filters to the content one can view or write. It is your personal mind for everyone else to read. This form of writing is best for every type of people. Be them be the talkative ones,  those love to talk or the ones who rarely speak.

Whatever one has written, usually the discussion is related to that topic and it gives each of the writer and the commentator a view different from what they might have understood from the writing. I have been left speechless many a times when I was involved in a conversation with someone on a post I had written or they had written. It’s too many emotions when one can feel the amount of weight a writer put in while writing something. 

This is something not any Facebook or WhatsApp can provide. Although their use is completely different from the every other form. 

Blogging is something a little more personal and yet so accessible for everyone else that once affected by it, the person usually never leaves it again.

Many people who I have met here may share the same thought. But then other forms may be necessary for many other people. 

What is your view? 

For me blogging is the best and only form of social networking, except the days when me and my group of friends are out, checking out every new thing that has come up in the city during the time we were gone, asking about each others life. 

Except blogging, I prefer a deep, long conversation over a cup of roadside tea, a little bench, the cool wind and some noise to cover up the instant loudness our voices sometimes catch up. 

Who are we….?

Quickly browsing through my daily feed of news I came across some articles. Some articles that usually fall down on the ground because they weren’t scandalous or marred with utter disrespect for someone or something. They are the ones who inspite of having the vigour and the stature to ruin you into many thousands of pieces, are ignored, left for vultures to be feasted upon. They free you from the shackles of ignorance, maybe make you cry, maybe make you smile or even better, make you smile and cry the same time. Talented are those who can fill words with hue, emotion, tad bits of laugh they had when they wrote it, give them the respect, the boldness, the italics.
I happened to read such an article. This is what I could introspect through it.
You know the equation of human emotions is so damm simple. Laugh is laugh, tears are tears, pain is pain. The dexterity of human emotions come to play here. It so effortlessly shrouds everything we believe that we know about ourselves.

Take for instance, I never knew I could dance. But I did dance one day and I did it wonderfully. (Atleast according to me).

I never knew what it feels to work when you are sick. Until, my mother was out of town and I had to make breakfast for my brother.

It’s simple yet complex. 
Human emotions don’t teach you things in a simple way. Smile may not be a smile. Tears may not be tears. Pain might be imaginary. 


The greatest teacher what I believe for anyone is “LOSS“. Yes, you read it right. Nothing teaches better than a sense of “LOSS”. We cry over lost time, over lost youth, the opportunities that could have been converted into something useful.

Let me bring a dimension of science. Our brain has numerous amount of nerves that together form our nervous system. The brain, a masterpiece that reigns over our body is one complex system of emotions.

Imagine a situation( may God forbid such type of situation), because of some accident, your body is rendered useless, except your mind which can feel and sense everything and everyone. But the loss of body is something very shocking for it. You want to move, hug that person right in front of you, cry out loud, jump, even want to feel pain. But nothing happens.

Life will change when your body starts kicking. Won’t it?
The greatest other teacher to human emotions is visual stimuli.

Have you ever jumped with joy when an unexpected twist in a game happened and everything changed, have you ever despised those heaps of garbage laying around, have you ever cried seeing someone you love, lay still. 

Pictures or photographs come a second close to this stimuli. The first one for very obvious reasons is the human eye. Part of the the five sensory organs- the ear, the nose, skin, eye and the tongue, the human eye is again something very unique. Compared to a camera,  a human eye produces an image of image of resolution of 576 Megapixels. All the organs are yet again connected with our mind.

Albeit every fact, every iota of knowledge we have about the humans as a whole, is still just like a color in the pallette of nature. 

One such color is courage, Valor or bravery.

We tend to compare bravery with muscular strength because that’s what we have seen since our organs have started to function. But bravery is a broad term. A mother working so that her family could sleep without an empty stomach is bravery, a child confronting a bully at school is bravery, thinking against the set lines, the blood that forgets a family for a nation is bravery, raising your voice against wrong, casting your vote not because you know that the wrong may come into power but a greater thought that the country is made by people who dare to chose, that is bravery.

Just like water, that has no shape, no form, no fragrance but a clarity, a purity, an ingeniousness, bravery too is simple but yet complex. 

There is this conception about people who cry out loud. They are weak and vulnerable. What is weak according to you? Is it subsiding under the pressure of something, holding hands when you want to cross a road, giving up, crying out loud when you see something soul shattering, skinny, malnourished, undernourished.

Is weak just about all this or being weak is a state of mind? You sometimes just think a thing cannot be done and you give up not because you couldn’t do it. But it was easier to give up.


Except physical boundaries, everything and everyone is strong or weak, depends on what you tell your mind to be. 

Many things awaken our many emotions. A laughing child, a singing beauty, a bleeding wound, a frail old man, a talkative lady, men running for work, sparrows looking for water, dogs barking at other things, a still standing cow, a gush of cold wind, a surprise rain, separation, friends, friendship, intimacy, love, kiss, scolding by your parents, walking on moist sand, standing barefoot over pool of pebbles, a baby fisting your finger, a pat on the back, a fall, a rise, learning something new.

So much we know about humans and yet we know nothing. There is so much buried deep inside us that most of the times we forget that we can be someone we have not seen.


The question is as real as the universe, as the very earth you are standing on. And the question we must ask ourselves is.

Who are we?

And believe me, I could find my answer even after searching through my remains, my roots, my success, my failures, my senses and most of all, my emotions.

And oh yes, the process of finding something or the other about me won’t ever stop because we living beings were gifted with something not given to the dead – life.

Life, my friends is one hell of a Roller Coaster ride wherein all your emotions, senses and mind trigger and they trigger with a boom. 

Why do I love long conversations?

There is something mysterious about words. The way they find their form from the infinite number of combinations from a limited collection. I am amazed by how every word, every single meaning and the very tone, the pronunciation a word can embed in itself and yet remain humble enough to lie among all its fellow mates. 

There is thing about conversations. They might not be pleasant all the times but still they invigorate you to add something to yourself. For example, consider a conversation between a child and an aged person. They both may not be able to talk but still they say thousands of things. Yesterday, it happened that I had taken out Joy for a walk ( For those of you who don’t know who joy is, he is my 5 year old yet to grow up dog), I saw a pram that was being pushed by someone about the age of my grandfather. He was so excited that I, even Joy could sense his excitement. The pram he was pushing had an adorable little girl in it who wore a pink dress. Her grandfather said, ” See, a Dog.” And she rolled in excitement in her little pram. Eye contacts between them spoke the necessary. 

Yet again , I saw a conversation. A child had come to her mother, all dirty with mud. He stood there and listened. 

As I passed by, I heard what she said. “I just got this shirt for you and you made it a mess.” ” I will wash it mumma.” He said. “Go wash your hands, I had prepared noodles for you.” She said. 

Conversations are something rarely we notice because just like air and water, we have taken it for granted. Distances both of space and time, have introduced yet another form of conversations- texting

I was introduced to texting by my school friend, during the days when SMS used to rule. We used to text. Hi bro, how are you?, tomorrow  we have this test, did you see Pokemon? Simple, basic and yet complete. I was so excited, waited for it to arrive on my fathers phone that sometimes I used to sleep with it. It was sheer joy to see a SMS arrive. He was my first text buddy. 

Fast forward to college life. I was gifted a smartphone by my parents. The first things that came in it were games. It was my ritual of inducting something in the family. It is now as well. My elder brother told me of something called Whatsapp. I had fun installing it, making some use of my phone number for the first time was refreshing!. My friends were already used to it and they started sending me texts as well. LOL! OMG! IDK! WTF!. These were certainly out of my space. I was reading these words for the first time in my life and just like a confused fellow, I turned to my bestfriend. He was my saviour, he sent me a complete list of all the abbreviations used in texting. 

People don’t have this much time to type in complete words, they must be really busy, I thought. 

After my share of good amount of texting, I came to a conclusion that it is not my cup of tea. I used to get infuriated when people sent me those corpses of words in convenient little boxes that I have caught the wrath of many people. I even remember telling a girl, the first girl I ever started talking to, I cannot understand these abbreviations ,can you please use complete words. She was humble enough to acknowledge. There were at times when I wanted to speak so much but the other person would send me a LOL and I would be turned down. 

The magic of words is slowly eroding away with every LOL or an OMG. 

However, after a great amount of torture at the hands of abbreviated textors, I thought let me do something different. I have never used these abbreviations because murder of language is something so brutal. It’s like killing away your tongue with your own hands, chopping it of its vigour. 

I have always liked conversations that last more than blink of an eye. It may not be long in length but yes intensity, tone, hue matter a lot. I want to have a conversation in which you may not even need a medium, it just flows, like light in vacuum, like wind through mesh. There mustn’t be a constriction in it’s flow or else it is not a conversation. The weight of words, the way they sound, the way they should be used, change the complete aura of a conversation. 



” Sorry, I cannot do this.”

See the difference. 

I am a miser when it comes to speaking with a person I have met for the first time or especially a person of opposite gender( and let me tell you I am horrible) face to face. Texting does fine in these situations. But when a person knows me and I know them, I change. I had conversations in which I have cried like a baby or made the other person to do so. I had a conversation that made me throw away all my distractions away and focus on things more important. I had conversations that broke my heart, laid me grasping for air. I have loved a person over a conversation, hated a person in a conversation, grew more respect for a person, was scolded over and even scolded some people so that they leave things behind.

I am not a big fan of short conversations. I don’t want to know what happened to you in the day. But I want you to describe everything to me like a movie, so I could imagine you as a hero traversing through the length and breadth of the story. 

I don’t want a list of your hobbies. Although, I would love to know when you got a sore ankle while you danced, the audience that came in your performance, the dress that tore off, the hard work that went preparing for something. I want to see that passion in your eyes when you describe me something. 

Passion fuels human beings. Brings them to life. Motivates them to be someone they desire. 

I want to hear you speak, so I could absorb each and every word of you, could feel that heartbeat pumping when you remember your grandmother or a brother that stays away. 
Words are something mysterious. They can give birth in you something extraordinary. They need to be felt, questioned upon and above all, must be respected because for every invention, every discovery this human life has been capable of, is the gift of words, language, tone, speech. 
Without words, we are just animals. We may know how to survive. But leaving a mark won’t be possible.

I am in love with long conversations. 

Are you?


I am strong because I was weak. 
I know what’s loyalty because I was betrayed. 
I don’t care because once I had cared too much. 
I am silent now because the words that came out were often misinterpreted. 
I don’t wear clothes that are clean.
I have made mistakes, grave mistakes that shattered me, my image, my ego.

Choice is yours.

It’s a delusional world,  you see. We tend to be attracted towards the ones who ignore us, loyalty, faith, belief have been made cheap, disgusting by people who very proudly say they are the harbingers of love. 
What is love? 
Singing, dancing, romanticising is it love
Or is it something more deep, something more divine. 
All, including me, you, are hypocrites. We wear faces, masks that cover the one face we don’t show to anyone, falsely accusing anyone who crosses our ways. Because it is easy to accuse, get done with the responsibilities and oh yes,  wear a mask so that the entire universe sympathizes with you, glooming over the fact that you have been a victim of an attack. But, the real face, the one you haven’t shown to anyone, yes that one, it is the one true you. 
I admit today I am not happy with what my that face has shown me. The past, the many devious concoctions. But yes, I am ready to improve, ready to let go off everything to start afresh, build new foundations for the future. We were made to make mistakes, mistakes that taught us that fire should not be played with, that a bleeding wound needs to be looked at or else you will be infected, that throwing a stone at the sky will hit you back, sometime.
Yes, I am ready to show my face to the world. 

The question is, are you….? 

Something is fishy… 

Although I don’t say anything about people sharing my posts. But it would be nice if I was told that my posts are being shared. 

Plagriasm is a crime. Originality and the hard work of anyone goes down the drain during this process. 

Please take care. 
P. S- this came when I saw a completely similar blog which had some of my posts. 

Blogger recognition award…

Thank you Chitra for nominating me for this award. I took a lot of time in doing so. I apologize Chitra for the delay. She is a wonderful blogger. Her selection of quotes is amazing. Keeps each of the readers motivated and energetic. Do check her blog. I am sure you will love her. 

It feels great to be appreciated and recognised because what else anybody demands. Appreciation that motivates. 

Thank you Chitra.

It was never my intention to start a blog. He’ll, I even didn’t knew what a blog is and what do we do in a blog. I guess I was too lazy for this or too involved with my love for video games. I used to write casually when my friend once saw my work. He recommended me to start a blog and here I am. 😊

The first story I wrote very simple one. But the second one was inspired from a true event. 😝 Hahaha, read it, The impatient me.  it was my first ever try to get some attention from someone( you’ll find it in the story who I am talking about). Unfortunately, it was a little too straightforward.😝

I am still learning many things everyday from fellow bloggers. The only thing I want to say to anyone. Be Humble. That is the only thing that will take you places where you haven’t ever imagined. For everything else, I charge hefty amounts( haha, just kidding😜).

Rules for participating in Blogger recognition award:

  1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  2. Write a post to show your award.
  3. Attach the award to the post.
  4. Give a brief story of how your blog started.
  5. Give a piece of advice or two to new bloggers.
  6. Select 15 other blogs you want to give the award to.
  7. Comment on each blog and let them know you have nominated them & provide a link to the award post you created.

My nominees are:-

  1. Ash
  2. Radhika
  3. Natursquill
  4. Shoaib
  5. The Zen Hiker
  6. Misha
  7. Radhika
  8. Mridhula
  9. Rashmi
  10. Aarooshi

All the best. 

    You to me…

    Dear Miss yet to come,

    How you have been? I was a little busy these days. Busy trying to figure where this life is taking me. 

    Everyday is a new journey, a new hunt for something even we haven’t yet conceived. There are moments when nothing feels right. We take many bad decisions, many relationships that suck out the best from us, leaving nothing but scars for life. We want to apologize for things done intentionally or unintentionally.However, it may not be possible everytime. Whenever, it’s possible we do. Life never stops. It goes on. These things may although sound too rough for anyone who sees them from outside but inside these are life wrecking. Yet we sometimes stay like a pillar for everyone who needs us.

    You know how difficult it is to be like this when a storm inside you is laying waste to many houses, many dreams ruthlessly. I tend to collapse when nobody is around because for many I am strong, I am a person who listens and sometimes recommend a course of further action. It is so difficult for me to say no to anyone that mostly I am mocked by other people. My decisions most of the times are governed by my heart rather than my mind which turn to be instantaneous. They say you are a fool. You don’t know how the world is. Grow up. Be mature. 
    These times are heartbreaking Miss yet to come. I have no one to talk to. These are the times I want someone to listen to me. These are the times I want you to just ask me what’s wrong because I will never tell you what’s going inside me. Believe me when I say ask, you have to give your full effort. I am sorry if it’s too much. I may be angry, may barge the doors behind me. But I will tell you. 
    Miss yet to come, you have to be very patient with me because even I haven’t yet completely unraveled myself. 
    Dear Miss yet to come, you have to be the one who is mature when you will be with me, you have to be the smart one, the intelligent one. Everything that we decide will be a decision in the end of both of us and never ever think that I am ignoring everything around because there’s a storm brewing inside me everytime I say something loud or maybe sometimes nothing at all. 
    I know this is too much to ask because we all expect our life partners to be mature enough to handle a situation if not well, then diligently. I assure you Dear Miss yet to come, I can be hard as a rock in times of heavy fire and can be as soft as a feather when I will be loving you. You will just have to bring out the best in me Dear Miss yet to come. That’s all I ask. 
    Everything else, I will take care of.

    Waiting for you.

    With lots of love.

    Kumar Harsh 

    P.s – I learnt new songs on the guitar for you. 

    A dream….

    Dear Miss yet to come,

    Life is a puzzle we all are trying to find a solution. Everyday we wake up to something that we try to forget or something that we want to cherish. 

    I woke up today while dreaming of a place set in woods, surrounded by the smell of nature, undisturbed, undisclosed, a secret kept hidden from the eyes of malice. It was cold and I remember the fire that you had lighted in that little fireplace we made together. It had now changed places. The Sun shone bright, spreading its rays indefinitely over the blue canvas. You were still sleeping. 

    I took a cup of coffee from that kettle that I gifted you when I broke the one you had bought.(Sorry for that!) I held the cup and went out to see the nature wake up to the day. The river flowing made music with the fishes in its sheen, waiting for someone to applaud, the trees rustled each other into a hug, the birds clicked their beaks, the day had started for them. I went inside our little blue house (although I had to fight a lot for the color ;-)) Climbing the steps we painted together, I now recall how difficult it was for us to bring this into reality. The dress you didn’t buy, the journey we couldn’t sail, the match we missed. Don’t you think it is all part of that solution? We sacrificing everything for something that only we can see. This puzzle, this journey, this birth, all have been a myth that has carried many generations for many centuries onto a simple fact that everything is mortal. Immortal are the memories, the moments that we build together, the smiles, the cries, the fights, the days we didn’t talk. All, every, each. 

    As I Reach the bed where you still are dreaming of me ( just kidding ;-)), I couldn’t resist but notice that little smile on your face. The same face that makes my day, that makes my home. 

    You are home dear miss yet to come. Yes, you are. And if you are besides me, I am sure something beautiful will come out from this life, this puzzle….

    Take your time Dear Miss yet to come. I am a true gamer and a true gamer never gives up. 😉 it will be fun looking for you. 🙂 

    Waiting for you.

    With lots of love,

    Kumar Harsh 


    Dear Miss yet to come,
    How are you Miss yet to come? I have been looking for you for sometime now. Yesterday I was walking through the park where sometimes I find really strange but yet too jovial things happening. A kid was learning to ride his bicycle there. I sat down on the same bench where sometimes the little squirrel that lives on the red tree comes down to chew on some munchies. I saw how carefully the father put down his son’s new bicycle. It was a red shining hotride customised only for him, that’s what the kid thought. I could see his face, filled with the emotion of happiness combined with the inhibition of trying the new adventure. He was all ready to ride it. But his father, a little too careful wanted him to wait. “See son you can ride it once I check it.” He said and got busy tweaking the bicycle. The boy noticed every gesture his father made. The movement of the screwdriver, the little red can of oil, the way his father looked at his bicycle. ” When can I ride it?” Curiously he would ask and everytime his father would say just a minute. It was just like preparing for war. Fathers never let their kids enter a war unprepared. I told myself. He checked the protection gear on his son. “Ride my boy.” He exclaimed with joy and a tinge of scepticism. The boy got on the bicycle, ready to ride he asked his father,” what should I do?”. ” Put your legs on the pedal and there you go my lad” he smiled. The kid injected with a desire to ride and a hope to fly, Pushed the pedal. “I am with you son” said the father as he carefully pushed his son into a new Kingdom. It happens frequently. Don’t you think Miss? We are seldom pushed into something we don’t want to venture into and then something magical happens. The earlier feared arena becomes a piece of cake, a walk of lifetime and then we realise it was nothing but our mind that stopped the heart from beating emotionally, not just functionally. The father let go off the bicycle and the kid was now a master of his beast! “Dad, I can ride a bicycle”. His face had grown like the sun which had nothing to fear for, no one to beat, nothing to hide. The kid fell on the next turn. His father came running to him. “See, now you know what it feels like to ride in the wind. You have to keep your feet down my Son.” 

    The winds were becoming colder as the day had started to sink into the sheets of the calm. The two took off for their home. “We will try harder tomorrow” the father had said. 

    I sat down there for some more time after they left. A strange fragrance had captured my attention. The same fragrance that poets reverb about, the fragrance we all seek in times of apocalypse. I let myself absorb that fragrance. Intricate cannot be seen, delicate can’t be heard. I had started to feel the cold, my body had started to accept the stillness, it was ready to disintegrate. The best thing about experiences like these is that they are new. One cannot just make them happen. They just flow. I left myself in that state, hoping to a achieve something. 

    I opened my eyes when a stroke of wind had carefully feathered my forehead. I was now someone I didn’t knew. 

    I found the kid who was lost in the mundane routine, the father who was crushed by the gigantic boulders of work and most importantly the wind who had lost its ability to fly, to change, to breathe, to listen, to smell and to see. 

    This park made  a way for me  Miss. I am glad I stayed. 

    This winter I hope that winds gets a little colder, the sun a little warmer, the flowers a little merrier and the us a little more closer.

    Hoping that you experience something magical like this.
    Waiting for you,
    With lots of love,

    Kumar Harsh 

    The dreams I see….

    Dear Miss yet to come,

    There this thing that is happening with me for some days. Everyday I sleep and in my dreams I see some many versions of you everyday. In those many versions of you,  sometimes I find out what you hide from the world. Something mystique, something magical that only makes my affection for you grow by infinities. Have you ever observed a rose. It is beautiful to the entire world, but when we open up its layers, it spreads a fragrance that can only be comprehended by the few who dare open it. Every layer is a revelation, a truth told, blissful, enchanting. Everyday we become partners in something very beautiful. We join hands and make something that usually makes us jump with joy. There are days when we rest. You lie down and I just look at you. The most perfect creation, with me. I feel happy, I am excited. Every breath that you take becomes a musical note for me and together they become a Symphony. Sometimes I let my hands be lost in your hair. I find them a little strange. They always know their way out, but all they want is to be there. Your hair seems as veins running through them, giving them a purpose to exist, a goal to achieve. Yesterday I saw you making breakfast for us. You were standing at the counter, arranging things and I was filling myself with that sight. The rays of the sun were running straight through your hair, they had turned golden. Even sunlight couldn’t surpass you. All it wanted was to stay. You make it beautiful. Just like the stones in a river that make a music so mesmerizing and soothing, one can never forget. 

    My alarm clock is my new enemy these days because whenever I try to reach to you, that small little thing creates an explosion in my mind and I have to wake up. 

    But you know the best thing about dreams. I can watch them with my eyes open.
    Waiting for you,

    With lots of love 

    Kumar Harsh 

    A letter to me…

    Dear Harsh,
    We live in a world that is heavily shaped by what others think of you. There are times when the thought of being you just skips your mind because what others may think of you becomes prominent- that is what we have been told for almost all our life. Climb down the bench, don’t talk too loud, behave, don’t run, don’t touch, don’t understand, just obey. We have been subject to conditions that could have brought the best in us but Alas, we were shaped by what society might would have thought about us. I have been thinking about you a lot lately. You have been a good son till now, followed everything which was laid upon you, never broke any rules, was always helpful and could never lie. Your heart always overpowered your mind where there were some major decisions to be taken. You never intended any wrong to befall on your loved ones because they were the ones that resided in your heart, they were the ones that helped mend it when it was broken, gave it shots of adrenaline when it was almost dead. You never ever thought what your present action will do because you never thought from your mind. This did not affect many as your major decisions until now included mostly that involved you the major part and somebody or a group of some bodies as a minor or even an insignificant part. But from what I have seen in the past few watches, your decisions have started to affect many and the most affected is you. I am observing you and I don’t find you in a very functional state just because of the one decision that has made some people erase you from their life. I know this is painful because these people were your closest accomplice in some very good times. Grieving for them has become an order of the day for you. Everyday you become older than what you probably are just because you keep on thinking about them. I am not saying that this should not be done. But look at yourself buddy. You have lost all your happiness and joy that once you spread across everyone you met. You are not even justifying your own name- Harsh that means happiness. I just have to say this to you- you are everything that the universe is made up of. You have a body, a soul, a purpose and most importantly an aim in life. You have tried your best to maintain the relations that you wanted to maintain. Buddy, you look tired to me. I request you to please stop. You are just letting yourself go in this process that has snatched you from all the happiness and has made you a walking corpse. I can very well understand how difficult it is for you to let go because you find happiness in smallest things. A bubble of water can excite you, a bird bathing in a pool of mud can entice you, a baby laughing can mesmerize you. I know you will never forget those people because they will always remain special to you. You have grown in their company. But buddy you will have to learn to let go or else you will lose yourself. 
    I will always be here. I will always help you when you need me. Just listen to me because I am you.

    Your best friend, 
    Kumar Harsh

    Is waiting worth it?

    Dear Miss yet to come,
    Lately I have been into a deep thought of you. Waiting for you has become so difficult these days when all I can think about is being with you. You know I have been patient enough for the days when I was enlightened about what a partner means in one’s life. I came across texts that told me that a partner in your life is the one with whom you can share your joy and Sufferings, your remorse and the things that you can boast of. But I think a partner cannot be just for sharing what you are going through. The very meaning of partner can be derived from the word partner itself. Part-Ner, a part of the puzzle, a part that completes anybody to make them somebody. Forever we have been through situations that warranted an action that was unique to give birth to a reaction that was strange. Something that shook our entire way of thinking, our perspective of looking at things, our reactions. Sometimes we were glad about something that had happened, sometimes we cried. But you know the best thing about experiences, is that everytime it happens  we learn a lesson. We haven’t yet met but there is a connection that i can feel through the eternal ties of something far beautiful than the racing rays of the sunlight, the pierced clouds that cover the sky, Than the bloated pastures of the golden seeds and this connection is the one that keeps on telling me that somewhere you are also going through that something that is strengthening this connection, bit by bit, every single day. You are also experiencing a reaction that is making you feel differently. I just want to tell you I am here experiencing things that you haven’t experienced yet, just waiting for the day when that connection of ours is fully established. There is something I want to tell you beforehand, I am a great listener but a terrible speaker. The will be times when you will have to comprehend my silence and react accordingly. And I am a boring person. The things I do best are to look and observe and think about them in ways anybody rarely thinks. Have you ever seen a falling feather. You are that feather for me. The one single feather that can make me fly, the one feather that tickles my bones only to make feel alive, soft, smooth, transcendent. You know I want to be the wind that carries it to carres it gently on the ground. I just want to be your part and I want you to be mine. I want to hold your hand in the falling rain, carry you in my arms when you get tired, hug you tight when things are not right, listen to your voice everyday, I want you to be the first person I see in the morning and last one when I close my eyes, I want to feel your soft hands over my chest, your breath in my ears, your heartbeat synced with mine. I want to see you sleep, drag you hair behind your ear, bite your lips over something. I want to be the reason you smile, the reason you rise, the reason you glow. There are many things I want to say to you dear Miss yet to come. But you know there are still many things left for you and me to experience and still many more that we have to experience together. 

    Until then, I will wait for you. But please dear Miss yet to come don’t keep me waiting for long. I want to do so many things for you that this life feels so short and I don’t believe in reincarnations. But if it was possible to be reincarnated I want to be your partner in every life.
    I’ll finish with this last quote.

    “A course down the life track, there were people who met me back, who kept standing on the side track, they tried to bring me down, laughed whenever I had a fall, but then there was you standing there everytime, you held my hand, helped me stand, now when I am searching for you, where are you, lost in the Meadows, I need you.”

    Waiting for you,
    With lots of love,
    Kumar Harsh 

    Rainy letter

    Dear Miss yet to come,
    It was raining today in my backyard. Quickly I took out my car and set out for the lake. Do you remember the last time we were there together. We spent hours talking and then something amazing happened. The rain started to pour. The breeze had freshened with the moist soil and we were just walking, Drenched in this utter delight. I always told you not to tie your hair, because it was soothing to see your hair play with you. I had stopped you from tying your hair, I had never tied you. You were always a free woman, an independent, one that had her own identity. You know the best part of being with you was when you talked and I listened. The way your lips moved, the way your eyes escaped mine, the way you remembered that old story, the way you would sometime look at me. Everything was so perfect, so serene, mesmerizing, destined. Time was something that was ignored when you and me would be together. Just like the sand in the hour glass. It knows it is important, but still it has nowhere to go. I have met many people, been to many places, experienced things that were only described. But that satisfaction that I feel when I am with you is something experienced by a person stranded in a desert looking for water. Water is a source of inspiration for him, his only reason to keep moving, his only destination, His only goal. Nothing in this world is important to him than a soulful of water. You know water is the clearest of all. It cleanses deeply, reaches minutely and touches intensively. You are my Grail of water, my chance at redemption, my breath, the only light. Just as I was about to leave the rain stopped. But you know what they say, rain is the purest form of water. I have taken some of it in my wallet along with the same band you used to tie your hair with.

    Waiting for you,

    With lots of love,
    Kumar Harsh