Small Joys

A loose kurta or so it seemed like. Dawn – that was the time. Drawn – that was the feeling. As the window pane was playing hide and seek with the sun, a sepia tone took over the room and poetry filled it up. A whisky voiced princess was about to wake up. The clock struck 7 and her podcast came alive.

Far away somewhere a man was listening to the same podcast and tripping on her voice. The pitch, the diction, the smooth voice killed him. Bruised and sucked into the idea of her, he began writing. He had told her his fascination for hair. Knowing that, she not only welcomed his desires but also added to it by sharing pictures that delighted him.

Within a virtual world, two strangers became acquaintances. Formal hellos and appreciation for pictures found a form of personal communication. From random subjects to likeminded topics, they had moved along.

Back in her apartment, she opened her eyes and looked at her mobile phone, it was beeping. She looked at her mentions and swept her hair on one side. By doing so, she smiled to herself. She clicked herself and shared her picture with the world, waiting for him to see it. “Small joys”, she said.

As he stumbled upon her picture, his player started playing, baavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna. He smiled to himself and kept looking at the picture. “Small joys”, he said.


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