Sometimes I wonder why do we have five fingers? Why not 6 or 7 or perhaps, 12. Why is it that our body is perfect for the way it is?
Sometimes I wonder why does the alphabet ‘F’ sounds like ‘fa’ and not ‘ka’ , ‘sha’ or perhaps, ‘ sa’. Imagine somebody saying, “I don’t give a s(f)uck.” Or maybe, ” I don’t give a d(f)uck.” Funny, yeah.
I wonder why is white called white and not red, and red called red and not black, and black called black and not orange? Perhaps, orange is the new black. Whatever.
P.S. My 20-year old self did not write these utterly lame words but my 12-year old self did.
I found this written in a very old diary and no wonder, I had a stupid childhood. 😛
Sometimes I wonder, what would it be like to live in a secluded place, perhaps a lesser known village in the lesser Himalayas?
One of the little things I want to do in life is to peep out of that window (like that child), indite the music of the winds, smell the heavenly petrichor, admire the serenity of the environment and stare back at those magnificent mountains.
Approaching into the fog. The fog that will engulf him. He’ll be swallowed. But what will remain are the tyre traces on the sand. The tyre traces will fade too with the wind. And what will remain is a memory of him. Of the things that happened and vanished.
So, stop looking for traces but the memories, that are perpetual.
He dreams of being a billionaire.
She dreams of before on the AIR.
They dream of good fortune and fame
And you too dream the same.
But I do not follow the masses
’cause when the ‘M’ is silent, it sounds ASSES.
My dreams are entirely different
And I’ll ensure their fulfilment.
All I dream is happiness .
No showbiz, no glory, just illuminated brightness.
Illumination not by lights, but by beautiful smiles.
Smiles that are inexplicable & happiness that is communicable.
I dream of tears overflowing from my mom’s eyes.
Joy, tears of pride, which will make my hard work suffice.