10 minutes of a sweet pie… 

I picked up the phone. 
Something was to be done about the many thoughts going in my mind. 
I dialed the number and waited for her to pick it up. 
For the first time I talked and she listened. 
I told her everything, she listened patiently. 
My mind was now clear of all thoughts. 
She spoke in a voice so sweet.
And I was immediately happy. 
A voice so beautiful, I had a chance to hear. 
She then said, in that sweet voice, a sweet pie. 
Your internet connection will be soon restored. Thank you for calling the customer care. I hope you have a wonderful day. 

It was a dream come true. 
Truly….

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I picked up the pen

image

Comfortably it had stayed there for a long time,  searching for an excuse to be made a free soul,  a free maker of its own destiny,  to cover canvases of imagination,  to erode misconceptions of the many,  to say things unsaid,  to just play. 
My hands were shaking,  a deep sensation ran down the very nerves that drove these hands,  this body, this mind.  How shall I? What should I write? Were some of the questions that bombarded my peace of mind.
I picked up the pen,  adjusted the glasses which had seen the many,  unseen the many and wrote-

Ma’am,  I need 16 marks to qualify.  I will study seriously the next semester.

I did it.

Hahahhaha

The story of most of us engineers. I hope you enjoyed. 😀

Do comment. 

Winter..

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