Nobody knows what is love.
They say love is this,
They say love is that.
I listen to them,
Watch them, read them.
While they say,
They act, they write.

All that I know,
Is that it is an enigma,
Which I do not know.
And which no one knows.
But which all think they know.

Devdas

I can literally smell the cold virus. Anytime. Anywhere. The sensation when it first enters my nose is like no other. The other day i was standing by the window,attracted to it due to the sights and sounds outside. Winds lashing wildly and rains falling in huge drops. The Summer Sun had been unrelenting before that, and the wild storm had come as a welcome relief. Almost a wild relief, I must say.

The gusts of wind were pleasant. Even playful. They were trying to meddle with my newly shortened hair& how?! Not in full force- just with how much pleasant force was possible through the window. Outside they were wild. Inside they were gentle.

And just then, I had that familiar feeling; of the cold virus visiting my nose, and sniffing the insides of my right nostril greedily. The air it released inside my prized nostril, within a jiffy, was warm- the signature of the revisiting cold virus. That signature feeling, which I had had my maiden experience of, during my stay in Delhi for my 11th and 12th. I had perfected the feeling over those two years while over there. And the perfecting art continued even after I came back to Bhubaneswar.

Not that the cold virus did not exist in Bhubaneswar (before I went to Delhi). Just that it had not acquainted itself with me as strongly in my birth town. But believe me. In Delhi, it became my lover. And an obsessive one at that.

Every season change found the cold virus finding me.

A slight rain, and it caught me and forced itself on me.
The first coming of winter, and it caught me and grew wilder loving me.
The end of winter and the start of summer and some cold drinks( even a wee bit of cold water), and it wildly loved me.

It came back to torture me every season. And each time I knew it whenever it might have just even touched my nose. No it wasn'tGabbar Singh and did not have footsteps. But it had that habit of releasing warm air when it touched my under-nostril skin.

My body always bravely fought back and let it know how much I absolutely detested it. But the illogical lover would listen to nothing. It would relentlessly rape me every season and cause my nose to bleed with salty water and block my breathing and make me sneeze unendingly and choke me obsessively to force me to accept it, and leave me weak and conquered.

And gradually I found, I had no escape from being the obsession of this relentless lover. I could feel the antibody soldiers within me slowly losing their ability to fight. Almost unbelievably and unintentionally, I became Chandramukhi welcoming Devdas into the Chaukhat of my luxurious nose. Defencelessly forced into prostitution.

Now, Devdas comes whenever he likes. He revels in the clarity of my nose, in the submission of my body to its whims, in its ability to wield its power and dominion upon me.......

And thus he found me again while I was standing by the window. On the day of the first thunder shower in summer, and he found me and sniffed me greedily, as though he had missed me badly since long. Precisely, since the last season change. He uses me as a prostitute, disposes me and does not forget me.

He comes back again.

He is Devdas. The cold virus.

U

I've known U for long,
Still why are U a stranger?

U peep in and make me happy,
And then U are gone.

U are me, and I am U,
But still U are U.

I just want to be U forever,
And I will be too........

I know not anything,
A drop in the ocean.

Let me be buried under the earth,
Let me be torn by a tiger.

Let me be burnt by Helios,
Let me be poisoned to the brim.

Let me be sucked of my blood,
Let me be hungry to death.

Let me be thirsty till eternity,
Let me be whipped and beaten.

Let me be tortured and chained,
Let me be imprisoned and jailed.

And still I shall survive.

Despite all,
I will win.

There was not a bitter day,
When I did not feel better.

There was not a happy day,
When I was not melancholy.

There was not a bright day,
When there was no darkness...

There is no single day,
When everything happens,
And everything does not happen.......