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In depths of time,
There was a connection built online
A connection so deep
Nothing that could/can just let it seep

A long long period of Type-Talk
So much fun, pun and sun
Whenever I dipped/slipped/fall
It helped me walk and stand tall

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Now, a decade passing by
I think of our words..
They always intermingled
into this space and its sky
Danced, ching-ed and jingled

Oh! What a romance..
between Phrases, sentences,
Verses, Comments and poetry
Here, in a parallel universe
they will forever be

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I took many breaks
An online detox, I think it’s called
for weeks, months, even some years
He — happily a busy man..
Never, I think, really knew
That I am such a fan

Engaged in his world
Certainly didn’t/doesn’t
think of me at all
Or for my own good..
Let me type-say
At least, not as much

But whenever I show up
From time to time
Our words sit together,
Make some noise and rhyme

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This connection has no name
It is in fact “sort of” a cartoon-ish game
A connection
That’s beyond imagination

We ‘meet’ only online
No calls between us,
Never a face time

Yet, both of us know
How ‘seriously cool’ we are
No hashtag for it
’cause what we have is something
No words can ever define

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My favourite 1 Drink

Once somebody asked me:
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So, Nikki
What’s your favourite drink?

My My!!
What a question and why??
let me answer:
I love all drinks.


It really includes all:
soft and hard drinks
latte and soy milk
cap o chinos
& those drinks
red, transparent and sometimes white
in colour



Breezers, Whiskey, Vodkas and wines

Oh! Coffees are so divine

Italia ? Oh! No

There’s Irish coffee too!


and Wow!

Filter Coffee of south India
And Australia’s MOCHA!!!

Hot chocolate and fudge

And well my list is endless to answer in this space
so ‘short and sweet’
Drinks are a

But well, my bestest
and forEver DRINK ‘types’
Lo and BeHOLD (all the horses)
it’s into the ground
goes round and round
sip by sip
it is not a riddle
or a twiddle
to *tweet*..
it is plain simple

Of course.

But it doesn’t beat the real drink
I crave for


A forever thirst

I have for W A T E R!!

Crafty Cobbler

Today, under lockdown days. . on pretext of getting my fav slippers (chappals) to be mended, I cycled with my dad to the nearest cobbler we have around our neighbourhood. Never seen him before but dad knew him as he saw him always there when he went to do his bank stuff.

The moment we stopped our bicycles, and greeted him, he looked up and woosh! for me he was a character out of an English story book wearing a checked shirt, grey pants and a tattered hat. He smiled crookedly and said
“Yes, Saheb?” My dad showed his shoe and the man was happy to have something to do. Then he looked at me and I forwarded my slipper (self-mended) asking him to redo what he did before. He had really done a good job but my slipper was delicate so it came off too soon.

To my surprise, the polite man simply refused saying,” This isn’t my work, i can not redo somebody else’s mess!” (That somebody being me!) It took me some three to five minutes that I had overdone what he mended and have brought the slipper back to him because he really put it very right. Finally he agreed or recalled – I can’t be sure but now asked for some 50 rupees. Usually, we pay plumbers, electricians, carpenters and cobblers etc after the job is done so it was a bit odd having him asking us for money but we obliged and at the same time saw a plastic glass with little whiskey/or other local alcohol beside his tool box. So he needed money to may be drink more or have something to eat as he stated us as it was getting dark by that time.

Since he had done our previous mendings good the next day we went to take our shoes back but he again asked us for money, saying he was hungry and he couldn’t get the glue he needed to paste the sole or something like that. Now this wasn’t the second time he asked money like that. He was making it a pattern over the week. I hadn’t gone after that day but he speaks good English and has his ways around his customers, it seems. My dad has stopped going everyday and now we have given him a week to repair our stuff. Let’s see what comes out. My post is not as interesting as it could be and as cool this experience of meeting this cobbler was. Mainly because I am not getting a natural flow to write. I am on medication and writing is a struggle these days. But yeah I gave him a name, not knowing his own. I call him ‘Mast Mochi’ in Hindi. He lives life as if it’s the only day he has and I like his attitude towards being alive on his own terms. May he be healthy and safe. And hope we get our foot-wears back in a good condition! 🙂