Ink Stained

                      As my black Nokia shivered at it's place on receiving her message, my eyes went straight to that old dusty clock just to realize the longer arm had travelled yet another semicircle. With that realization I closed the browser and I closed that book giving upon my search as I realized over all realizations,I have an entrance to get through.What I was searching for was a book,a scripture or any such thing that described a "Superhero". The moment the word "Superhero" reaches our ears, funny dresses with capes as long as that of Cinderella's gown, and underwears of bright colors worn over tight pants come to our minds with super speed,super strength,sticky webs. But what really defines a superhero, that is the question of this blogpost. Behind that funny cape and behind that tight uncomfortable costume, lies the real definition. According to that if you ever wanted to be a superhero and always wanted to meet one, just turn around in the ho

            How often you lay your back on a mat on the roof, which is still warm from the day's heat; and without your phone vibrating around, glance at the moonless dark sky garnished beautifully with shining dots; some bright, some just bright enough to be visible. The mat your mother bought from the salesman at the door after heavy U.P. bargaining provides a little itching trying hard for you to get off it, but the visual plight just covers for all the itching, for all the heat.              Is this sky really that beautiful? How do I never see it anymore. I remember in the olden days, somewhere between the transition of the centuries, we used to climb up the bamboo ladder (seedhi) on the boundary-less-roof, lay there, talk, play antakshari. Yes we had a ladder and no stairs, which we used more than often because of the trademark electricity cuts from the khamba of the clumsy old Lucknow mohallas.              But we often disregard the beautiful (important) things which a