She loves ...

She can be only like this, no matter how I treat her, ignore her, kick her under the dust of my thoughts, and live on as if she does not exist even. All it takes is to raise my eyes and look like I need. And she knows. She comes, in all her kindness, all her nourishing love, stretching her cooling fingers to touch my heart, and makes me smile, and tickles me, and makes me laugh, giggling in my ears, running her palms through my wet hair and holding my face close to her heart, and making me feel, how kind she is.

Dare me not ...

Just what are you upto, nosey kid ?! pointing that quirky looking thing at me, it lookes like a silver brick to me. And why are you tapping it here and there ?!

Oh you stopped.

What are you staring at in that? Jerking your head in disappointment, eh ?

There you go at it again !

Let me tell you kid, just don't dare me too much !

A Thousand Shrill Voices ...

A thousand shrill voices fill the world around with a mysterious fog. They reverberate in the still morning air. They silence chirpy birds. They prick sleeping leaves of the Gulmohars. They silence me, and a chaotic mess of a mind thats mine. I stand spellbound, for minutes, a thousand shrill voices raising and falling, in wavy intervals, out of tune, off pitch, tending to run apart like a herd of gazelles, but yet spreading a most calming bliss into this world from the compound of that red colored building.

On days am late enough to be on the road at nine, am treated to this. This enigma, created by little children in the school near my office building, every morning at nine. On close listening I could figure that they were chanting,

Asatho ma: sath gamaya:
Thamso ma: jyothir gamaya:
Mruthyor ma: amrutham gamaya:

Lead me from falsity to truth. Lead me from darkness to blinding light. Lead me from death, to immortality.