The Encounter

sitting here at the top of the hill

i write down the things i feel

’cause this diary of mine is my best friend

don’tthink i am here on the hill to do suicide (even though its in trend) [LOLZ...]





from a hectic, colourless life

and this breezy, cold night

takes me down to my memory lane

to Port Blair and its plain





it was the day when i was returning

taking my luggage in one hand; the stairs came to a turning

i glanced over the glass door; where i had my breakfast in the morning

watching me from last few minutes; was the guy there standing

i met him in the morning too; but we didn’t talked

leaving my luggage on the floor; i stopped

as if wanted to talk; it seemed

his face sad something which was difficult to understand

so i simply waved him

he smiled and waved me back……









now, i know that i will meet him again…after 1and a half year