Hometown means Emotions

Tons of emotions

Ones that come down with tears

Even if you have been so far

For too long

And didn’t care much

Didn’t stay in touch.

Hometown means Vulnerability 

Where your roots belong

Whether you want it or not

Whether you stay there or not

You are a part of it

Whether you were born there or not

That’s where it all began.

Hometown means Memories 

Constant flashes of the happy past

Loved ones that are no more

Where you picture your little self

Walking towards the alley

Holding grandpa’s hand

Now Every part of you wants to

Recreate that moment

You long for that touch.

Hometown means Free time

With things that looked different before

And people too

Time is all you had

Late mornings late Lunches

Badminton, Rains, play, mosquito bites

And Smell of the earth.

But somethings still remain the same 

Like Mausi’s yummy food

Like the people who are meaninglessly still love you

Bringing tears that don’t come out

But overload within

Without your permission.


It’s not the place you’re in love with 

It’s the smell, feel, the people and the memories of the place

You don’t go back to your forefathers and ancestors grave because you must

But because it adds it up perfectly.

Hometown is Summary.


(What do you think about this? Would love to know. Comment here or mail it to at rtnair91@gmail.com. If you like what I write, make sure you FOLLOW the blog.)


The Eternal Search and the Eternal Find

Losing a best friend

It’s an eternal search
And an eternal find
The one so rare
That it might not ever
Happen again.

It’s not easy as a rhyme
In a naïve poem
It’s a classic
Without a rhyme
Yet perfect.

It’s just the presence
Of that one person
That drives energy
That builds conversation
Some even without words.

It’s an eternal search
And an eternal find
Not because there are no other people
But because there are very few
That get you.

It’s an eternal search
Because everyone is just trying
Not to be lonely

Continue reading “The Eternal Search and the Eternal Find”

Short & Sweet: Fragrant filth of the Night

She tried to wipe off the stains from her clothes and they left them a little faded but what would she do about the part of her soul that was ripped off in the process? And what would she do about the stench and filth that she felt deep within her skin even after using the ever fragrant and expensive bodywash. His enchanting smell had swiftly left her body after the first shower but it didn’t for a second leave her mind and she knew it wouldn’t, until they meet again. She didn’t know that it would be really long time until that happens, and lo and behold, she would relive each and every moment, yet regret that night for a very long time.

Dear ……………: Inked Memories from the Past

Dear ……………:  Inked Memories from the Past

Just yesterday, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a postcard from a dear friend wishing me Happy Birthday. The smell of the ink was still fresh, beautiful words written and he had posted it from the highest post-office of the world (Hikkim, Himachal Pradesh). Even though it came much after he came back from his vacation, it was overwhelming. It was a beautiful gesture and so special that it also brought back those memories of my childhood; the time I used to write letters. The smell of the ink, the feeling of holding a paper and penning down whatever there was within at that point of time. It’s just amazing to have received letters. It means someone has missed you just too much.

Post card Photo: Tabo Monastery, Spiti Valley
Post card Photo: Tabo Monastery, Spiti Valley

I remember I had started writing letters first (even before we were programmed to write those boring letters in school, which officially went on till college) when my beloved cousin sister and her family had shifted to Dubai. It is difficult to imagine what was my exact topic of elaboration would be at that point, considering there was nothing concrete happening in my life. I was just 12, I guess. Continue reading “Dear ……………: Inked Memories from the Past”