A Tree burns in the Light of the street
Saffron; its leaves ablaze

Tomorrow, when the Sun wipes away all the color
Who will next claim it as their Canvas?

It is one of those beautiful sunny winter days. The sky, evenly painted blue. The grass, gleaming, almost translucent. Flowers, delightfully colorful. Bees, birds, butterflies, boredom.

Perfect.

Am I in a novel? Is Lawrence writing it?

Moments like these are always cinematic. Shilpa Rao’s mysterious voice fills the air with music and I can only go wah wah re wah wah. With my face in the grass, and Mr. Wind running past, I feel like a kite. No strings attached.

Unke lafz hawa mein bikhar gaye

Woh jaane kya keh gaye

Jo kabhi na kahi tu ne

Hum to teri us nazm ko taras gaye....

Woh qissa fursat ki us raat ka

Woh qissa furqat ki us baat ka

Tere in fasaanon mein...

Hum apne hi aks ko dhoondte rahe....