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Blue Tiffin- box ( the 'him' version)

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Click here for the 'her' version.

The first drop hit his face. He cursed and put out his cigarette. He had walked out to the balcony to have a quiet smoke. But the elements wouldn't even let him have that.

It hadn't been working out so well for him lately. Finally, after months of separation, he was with her. He had had enough of it and just boarded a flight to surprise her on her doorstep. It was supposed to have been perfect. He had thought that he would pick her up in his arms, as she stared at him with wide eyes, and before she could utter words to speak, he would kiss her. They would spend the weekend together, doing everything that they had been wanting to do for months. But when she was finally in his arms, he felt a hole somewhere deep in his heart. It started with little disagreements, little differences of opinion. And then it snowballed into bigger fights, and before he knew it, he was standing on the balcony, smoking alone.

It was raining harde…

...

I wish…
I could lock myself in a room And bleed in peace

than leave the door ajar And toil in war…



Blue Tiffin- box (the 'her' version)

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I invite my readers to my first guest post at ...in love with me and life, entitled as above or read it here.  The post reads as...




...That was once rushed affair. That had always been one. Just back from her college, she had rummaged through her whole wardrobe for the want of better clothes to be shoved inside her bag. A spring in every step she had; a song in her heart. She had been packing her bags to go home that day. Going home at that time of the year had always been easy. She could easily manage sufficient leaves to afford enough time to rest at home and enjoy homecoming.....
With clothes half folded in her hands, she went inside the kitchen to grab a bite. She opened her fridge and her eyes set on a blue Tiffin box. A deluge of emotions engulfed her and she was swept with memories from two years back, when around this time she had been leaving for her place. Only, she hadn’t been working then. She had been a student. She had been away from her home to pursue what at that …

It is beautiful

It is raining hard today, very hard. It is raining copiously, shedding down unrestrained like a beautiful recitation, seamless and impeccable, splattering in its exquisite splendour. It is falling down like vociferously confessing its love for the earth, like poignantly releasing its pain to the earth. Love and pain have always been conjugates.  I like the sound of its heavy patter, the way it douses in its sound all other sounds, the way it deafens your ears and makes you listen to just itself, and nothing else. It is overpowering, it is overwhelming, and it is beautiful.
A rendition it is. Bliss to those who have been straining hard to listen to their own voice, to those who have been floundering in a deluge of a lot of noise.  It closes all your doors and opens one. The one that leads you to yourself; to that untended beauty lurking inside of you, to that beauty that had perhaps got down the lane of oblivion. It holds you in a tight embrace as if devouring you in its passion. It ma…