Pen and Stories.

  Each drop of water falling from the fresh and tender leaves mesmerizes you doesn't it? If you notice carefully, it is just the moment when it is about to fall, not yet apart from the leaf but holding onto it, maybe a little scared to fall. That right there is the fine line between the beauty of dew drops and the earthy smell of water puddle just beneath it, equally soothing yet totally different from each other. As you step your foot on it, it seems to create a print but somehow flows further or maybe vanishes, into the ground, absorbed into mother earth. Who knows you say? the tiny sprinkles of mud stuck to your feet, quite unmatched to the soft skin are the witness. It's a new day, a day of seeing people, reading  what they can’t write and picturing what they don’t want to show. What do they hide? What is it, that has to be hidden from us? That our eyes seem to catch but not quite interpret. Do they carry something on themselves? Do we actually care about the mystery?