Ink Stained

       As the droplets of heavy rain descended from the window of the bus, I missed my camera more than ever. The yellow bright streetlight from the many minuscule lenses of small droplets of rainwater, which try hard to stick to a dirty glass, but are forced by the blows from above (the flow of rain) and the pull from below (of gravity) to not let stay; would've made a beautiful shot.        But it seems this scene is the one that can never be shot perfectly or never be shot at all. However hard you try to focus, however firm you try and hold your hands, however close, however far you keep your lens, this shot is next to impossible.        Haven't we all been on that glass once in our life, or twice or even more. However hard we tried to stick to the thing we loved the most, to the interest which was most beloved to our hearts, we had to in the end, let it go. Be it the butt of the last cigarette or be it the history lesson of medieval period; be it the home in old chowk

       I being a Marley fan always thought this to be a song made by a cool singer for a cool topic. Well, it's not cool to be offensive though to a certain womankind. But then today I read about what it really means. It says, "no woman? don't cry." in a certain Jamaican vocab of which Bob Marley was a container of, and this was written for his wife Rita Marley who underwent great austerities with him until he was not successful.       As the world celebrates the respect and love towards a a certain sect of Homo Sapiens usually characterized by long hair and a warm heart, I recall my life, pressing on the rewind button and counting those kind on my fingers. well, I certainly have very few a fingers to count that.       I remember her doing my hair, washing me, cooking for me, being my support, wiping my tears. She even fought a teacher for me. She who made a hell lot of sacrifices for me. She who even before my birth fought with her husband to send me to the best