Showing posts with label Wish in a Bottle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wish in a Bottle. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

A Pictorial Guide To Stashing Away Scents

How to Stash Away Rain Scents


Today smells good enough to make me grin for absolutely no reason.

Wouldn't it be great to have a shelf full of scents and breezes that you stashed away for a day that needed it?

I think so.

Here's what you have to do:

1. Take one long breath in that would make a yoga guru proud.

2. Pause for a little bit till your lungs start to burst( this is a necessary step).

3. While your lungs just begin to burst, look for a cork and a bottle.

4. Exhale!

5. Some scents and breezes like company and they smell much better with a friend in the bottle. Rainy day scents like leaves, Raat ki Rani scents like a dusting of night and Ghee roast dosa scents like a bustling hotel sounds.

6. Tag your bottle and stash away with the others for another day.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Sometimes I Want a Moustachio


Sometimes I want to add a little flair to my day and a long luxurious moustache seems like just the thing I need. If only I could grow one.

I want to twirl the end of my moustache for that pensive look and bristle with rage so my moustache would flutter about angrily. I’d smile into my moustache while laughing inwardly at a joke and one day, it would grow so long I’d have all kinds of oddities hidden away in it. 

A walrus moustache seems quite perfect.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Saturday Thoughts

I think I want to be a papaya.
I have happiness in the folds of my palm.
And gratitude for a certain wishbone.
I caught a little petal of bliss.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Lucky Underwear

I am in dire need of a new pair of lucky underwear.
My last pair, which I seem to have lost, was a little worse for wear.
The one before that has been cremated.
And before that, was a period of darkness and misery.
Life before my lucky underpants was a colourless, dim world of barren lands, mournful songs and lost hopes. Not to speak of misfortune.
I wait, now. I twitch with impatience.
For the semi-hysteria, for the suppressed chuckle, for the little bounce in my stride that only lucky underpants can give me.
And I won’t have to wait too long.
I can feel a tingle in my bones.

 

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