I believe I have come to the point of my blogging life, where it is time for me to honour the tradition of publishing 'Hazaaron Khwaishen Aisi'. It is how I feel today, like a thousand dreams have come banging their passionate hands on my door. One by one, they too shall be fulfilled.

There are times when the writer's block seems all too real and then when I know I'm simply avoiding my own self. However, every time it happens I have one source of comfort. There exist the chronicles of a mind much like my own out in the blogosphere, one that convinced me that it would not be a futile exercise. Once in a dreary while, I read through it all and know there is still much to say.

It is never to late in life to discover the joy of something, said Father once. I have found one in travelling by the inimitable auto rickshaw, or auto as we like to call it. For one, the beauty of its colouring never fails to make me smile. Who would have dreamed up a yellow topped, green bodied, blue cushioned and red interior-ed vehicle like this? The coming of the November rains in Delhi only add to that pleasure.

It's worth the money they charge. Tiny drops of water sneaking their way on to your cheeks while your open hair billows in the cool breeze. Somewhere in the back of your thoughts, an old tune plays out on the cracked gramophone of old memories. It's the perfect time for a blanket around the feet and a cup of warm tea in hand, waiting for the right shade of red to blush upon ones nose. I hope the early morning mist and Jack Frost come soon. It's a good time to be in love.

Signing Out,
The Grin Without The Girl

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