Rain Drops In My Veranda

"I thought Rose would Die,

Tulip will turn dry,

Amaryllis...who will listen to its Cries,

Just when there was no end to their pain....

It Rained."

In the middle of restless,clueless and Rush Hour Struck Delhi.I found this place , a mirage may be what this place may seem to you but it really exists.

I was a guest,atleast that was what i thought,Soon to be engulfed within the surroundings of that world.Just a few yards away from one of the busy most Railway Station,Yards away from colourful yet dark market of Paharganj there stands the Mumtaz Buliding.May be the name symbolizes the love in its truest sense but place is the one where no Shah Jahan can see no Taj Mahal.

I took the small vent to meet my new nest.On the treshhold i met the Kallu Dhobi.The Iron in his hand looked bigger than him(Just like a Bazzoka it seemed).But he was swaying it like a piece of plastic. Unaware of the fact that now i would be quite a regular site for him he decided to ignore me for the time. I have to admit that i was to encounter the tiniest dynamite will ever known to human race (Chutki Bhua) . She was the one who will take the space of careof in my new mailing address.

There i stood with my blue bag,

Waiting for the response of the knock on the door......

and door opened....