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“In an enchanting encounter with the myriad books that I met in a cosy book shop today, I couldn't help but get bedazzled with the cornucopia of stories and poetry that lay snuggled in the plethora of shelves at display. You wouldn't believe it dear readers that I heard a real symphony in my ears at that very moment of this august encounter that happened in November. There was no rain today but the bright and sunny spirit of the day was as magical as any rainy day might have made me feel. I do not know about the other people in the book shop, but to me that very moment felt as if I was on cloud nine. Proverbially it felt as if I was listening with a mellifluous ecstasy to the magic of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. At that exact moment when I lay my hands or rather I would say I grabbed my hands on the two books that I have been yearning to read since a long time, I guess the entire Universe paused. Now without having an iota of energy within me to any other further delay in experiencing the magic and in experiencing the mad euphoria that has serenaded my entire being, I take your leave my dearest readers to indulge myself and in the most pleasurable way possible with the words of Franz Kafka and Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

“He asked her what he wanted to know since that day when they both had met ---- "Why did you become friends with me?" Surprised by his question, she replied: "Now, you want to know this." Silence prevailed. Then she elaborated: "I don't think friendship or love need any reason. What matters is how long we are committed to the relationship. This is more important than any reason.”

“The memories come back like the rainbow after the rain with all the hues and shades of color and an unending train the bougainvillea tree nearby my parents house where I grew up did not ask me my name she embraced me as she had done in my schooldays in every way the same the little squirrel just now tip-toed down the lane looking at the spectacle unfolding in the rain after all these years I have come back to my parents home the clouds have different shapes but the air smells the same ...”

“It rises again, the frenzied smoke as the phoenix rises from the ashes shadows of dreams on the hills a melange of memories She speaks in unheard words poignant with meanings deep another bird of silence caws as the breeze swirls and spins My grandmother told me stories about the mountains and the lakes I saw the rainbows of hope swaying to the music as the daffodils of joy to the rain The opalescent sky looks melancholy as the clouds of Alzheimer's hover her life perhaps she has not forgotten everything I hope the moon tells her about me I keep searching for my footsteps now smudged in the sands of time like the proverbial breeze that drifts but never gets to stay a while Gazing at old photographs, I keep the memories treasured and vaulted a boulevard of thatched moments a promenade of myriad stories!”

“Something surreal was happening in the background when she and I met. She was looking at me, and I could feel that she wanted to tell me many things. So, I started deciphering the vocabulary of her eyes. She felt the understanding in my eyes to read her unsaid words. Her eyes told me things that perhaps she may not have been able to say in words. When two sensitive people meet, then words become unnecessary. The eyes speak their own language. And sparks fly in the air.”

“words are alive they talk to us words too smile and dance they too have life words cry when they go deep they have feelings and desires too words are tender and sensitive too words understand when others may not words are loyal they will stay with us words don't leave unlike us words are kind and oving and caring too they make us happy when we may be sad words are philosophical they make us go deep to understand life and things that happen words are our identify words are for eternity words make us who we think we are and who we become...”

“Most people these days chase new things - new houses, new cars, new objects. But, they don't realise that old houses, old cars, and old objects have something that new things don't have - their history and culture. We must look at life from each other's perspective. New things will make you feel good but maybe for a short time. There is nothing fascinating about chasing new things. Which is why some people, like my parents, love old things, because these things have emotions, and sentiments attached to them. My Mom and Dad choose to stay in our old house in my hometown, because it was the house they built with their hard work and love. It is the house where my mother writes her beautiful poetry. It is the house where my father treats his patients. It is a house which has books, culture, cracks and yes history.”

“Your imperfections are beautiful. When you open up and tell me about your emotions. When you tell me about your thoughts. Your feelings that are only yours. When you show me your vulnerabilities. When you share your insecurities. Your desires that are only yours. Your eyes light up when you tell me about your dreams. You become more charming, when you show me your flaws. Your imperfections are beautiful.”