As  I settle down on these blue and rusty berths
A familiar smell of the train wafts towards me
And warms my heart, reminding of the same warmth I feel sitting in front of the hearth
And I wonder about all the beautiful scenes I would see

As the compartment starts to fill, I see all kinds of people around me
Ladies gossiping among themselves, children giddy with excitement and men chatting about politics
Hawkers strolling around the compartments selling biscuits and books and tea
Everybody here for a different reason, for different topics

The train starts to move
And with it the trees start to groove
I see people sitting with anticipation
Waiting to reach their destination with determination
      
  The ticket checker comes by
  In his customary black suit
With a notepad in his hand and a stern look in his eye
“Tickets tickets everyone”, he asks with attitude

  I protrude the pink ticket
  He checks it nicely
  And then gives it back to me to keep in my pocket
  Resuming the atmosphere lively
      
The train whistles
Announcing the arrival of the station
And everyone starts to gather their luggage, it starts to drizzle
They leave the train ,some for their family, work or vacation
              
  The lady asks me, “won’t you get down sir?”
  I shake my head and reply, “No mam, I am still waiting to find my destination
I look out the window
As I get ready to enjoy my train travels again

Expectations and expectations
as soon as i was born till my cremation
burdening me with its weight
such a pressure it creates
everybody has some expextation from me
all come flooding over me like that open sea
what ifs cloud my mind
what if i am not able to do it and what if they minds??
and then  after every expectation they want me to fulfill
they still ask me my reason for depression
when i fail  thay ask me-
"I didn't expext this from you my dear little honey bee"
i am scared to see that dissaponted face
that look of sheer grimace
and ****! they still ask me the reason of my depression
expectations and expectations

Not for you and not for anybody
I write for myself
when i found myself
lost in the fetters of the world
these words came to my rescue

Those words could talk to me
They said,"You are not alone"
Those words healed my wounds
and everything was just perfect

but when you laughed on those words
when you thought how stupid i was
it felt as if those words were not there anymore
those words seemed to fade away
Those words started to disappear
And i was alone all over again

I thought now you would never laugh on me again
but i realised i was just a plaything for you
you were fake
but those words were real
they were always with me

And when i took the pen again
those words came back to me


i realised  you laughed cause
twords didn't match up to my words
your words couldn't heal wounds they way they heal mine
and after all this i surely know
that now your words couldn't stop mine anymore

Last night i dreamt of  that old tree
that same old tree we used to sit by and watch the sunset
that same old tree we thought of making our beautiful tree house
but just this time you were not there
I kept waiting for you to come
to come and tell you would never leave me
but there i was standing by that same old shabby tree
waiting for you
i knew deep down that you had indeed found a younger and more beautiful tree
but oh my silly mind it never failed to hope that you still loved me
that you would come before that old tree
that same old tree we used to write our names on
and the next day i woke
i knew that old tree was empty yet again
but oh my silly heart it resisted the thought of not seeing the tree
i went and saw you standing there , waiting for me by that  old tree
that same old tree we once used to climb on.

The bestseller i read
sitting on my cozy bed
about the girl who loved books
she had such a beautiful look

Her passion it was
Her dream it was
While during a lecture in iim college
an professional author with wife wearing wedges

became her fan
wanted to become her man
but how would he handle his own life with two loves
like a play master who had his two dear doves

He had a loving wife
and also a smooth life
it is a cocktail of  redemption,love and betrayal
an Indian author could only show this beautiful portrayal

And there she was!
always with a book in hand
she never really talked to me
but whenever i saw her
it felt as if she had something to say

That day as i walked into her dorm room
i saw her crying
but couldnt ask the reason why
i went away from there
but soon realised that nevertheless i should talk to her

I thought of asking her everything i wanted to
about why  she never made friends
and why she never opened about herself

i opened the door and realised she was gone
and to this day the question haunts me
What happened?