I seek you
in the warmth
of the winter sun.

I seek you
in the flowers
that, in the spring, bloom.

I seek you
in the moonlight
of that summer night.

I seek you
in the pearls
of those rainy days.

I seek everywhere
only to find you
Within.

So the other day, I feel like baking a cake. That feeling is quite spontaneous. I check out the recipe and fortunately all the ingredients are at home. Generally, I do not like cooking. I will only take it up in situations where I have no other option. So this is quite an unusual feeling. 

While I have baked cakes earlier, they have all been under my mom's supervision. This time, however, I do it alone. And how proud I feel. But hey! I only feel proud for the part where I baked it all by myself. The rest is not that bright a story. While the cake tastes alright, it has some excesses in terms of ingredients. Had I taken care, the result would have been amazing. I know now what not to do next time when I decide to bake this cream cake. Well, whatever it is, it seems my parents have this really cute thing of encouraging me every time. They know their daughter will succeed certainly one day. 

So, my sister knows that I have baked and she has asked for a cake when I go to her place. I have also thought of baking it for my friends. And while I am into this web of cake talks and chats, I get reminded of a very nice story that I have been told by a friend or maybe I have read it somewhere.

There is this lady who bakes a cake everyday and gives it away to random people and I am sure it makes their day wonderful. I cannot recall how I reacted to the story when I was listening to it but I am sure my reaction would have been something like " Oh wow! Why ain't I living in the same city as this lady does?"  

Well, when I come back from this story to my real world, I find myself smiling. And why is this smile on my face? I realize that I would like to do it too in the same way as this lady has been offering people known or unknown and in that moment some other realization dawns upon me. Making people happy in small little ways is what matters. So let's spread happiness all around!!!

That winter morning
cloaked in fog
reprises in front of my eyes.

A warm jacket
with a hood
partially covering your face,
you had adorned.

Uncertain steps
I had made
while moving forward
I stumbled upon a brick.
I fell on the road,

I had mistaken my step
as the dense fog
had enveloped us all.
An expression
as cold as the weather
your face wore.

I didn't know
who you were,
Neither do I know now
in all these years.
But as winter approaches,
your inscrutable face
resurfaces occasionally
for reasons unknown.

An empty street,
where no one meets,
a lone traveler
puts forth his feet.

On the sidewalk,
a bunch of roses flock,
Beautiful and proud,
he hears them talk.

"You have got to see,
he admires me",
tells one to another,
while he pays no heed.

A little away,
a solitary wild flower sways,
it catches his eyes,
for a while he stays.

The flower makes no attempt
to avoid the roses' contempt,
the traveler passes a smile and walks ahead.
this moment for it, is worth a lifetime spent. 

When the ink 

of deepest hue

of your pen 

weaves words

for me 

as deep as you

in a poem,

I know in that moment 

the strings are of love.

I wake up in the morning
to a clear sky,
trees are still,
their leaves shy.

A little later,
what I see,
is quite amusing to me
and adds to my glee.

An army of clouds
has captured the sky,
with their wings spread out
I let out a sigh.

I then climb the stairs
to be on the terrace,
No! these aren't going to rain,
so aren't a menace.

A lone airplane from the horizon comes,
makes its way through the clouds,
singing its song, carrying passengers,
it feels proud!

I then turn around
to the other side of clouded sky,
three birds in a trail
("Are they sisters ?"), fly.

The silent leaves
no more remain.
Flowing with the morning breeze,
trees show off their mane.

Towards east I turn,
clouds get an orangish hue,
morning Sun is still their hostage
and is out of my view.

There is a wee bit of a chill in the air,
Weather is on its way to a change
I wonder if it's a regular affair.
Sure, from now on, it's going to be autumn. Nothing strange!

You have put in

so much of trust,

when I am 

made of lunar dust.

My source of light

comes from the Sun,

Ode for whom,

you have written none.

I only revolve

around the Earth,

How do I then evoke

in you such mirth?

Distant as I am

in the space,

Why have you 

bestowed on me this praise?