My name is Ghost

Hi there! My name is Ghost. I can see you but can't. Don't be scared. I won't harm you. I am here to share a story.

I was born yesterday in the cemetery close to your neighborhod. You remember that rite? Of course, you do. You pass it everyday on the way to your office.

It was 12 at night. As I rose from the ground the moon greeted me. I smiled back and tried to flirt with her. But it didn't work. She disappeared behind the clouds. I felt bad for a couple of seconds and then i was fine. I waved out to my cemetery pals and hit the road to check out the neighborhood.

The shutters were down. People were asleep. It was pitch dark save for a couple of street lamps. I got to a fork. I had to decide between two streets. I chose one based on the imaginary flipping of a coin.

I am happy i called right. If i hadn't taken this street, i wouldn't have found you.

Holding her hands

She laughs, she cries.
She plays pranks.

She tries to understand people.
She tries to make them understand.

She thinks.
Sometimes too much.

She walks.
She runs.

She holds my hands.
She is with me all the time.

I think she is pretty.
Her name is loneliness.

People you see, people you don't

You are at a traffic signal. You see this thin lady with her hair tied in a ponytail cross the road. She walks fast, almost runs.You look at her till she turns the corner. And that's it. She's gone. You might not see her again.

You are on your way to the gym at 7 in the moring. You see this old man walking on the road. He looks 75 but walks like a man in his prime. You see him every morning. You see him if you are on that particular road at 7 in the mornig. Otherwise, you don't.You don't know him. He doesn't know you.

In your life you see lots of people for only 30 secs. You see some for 2 mins. You see a few for a few years. And you see a few till you can't see anymore.

What do I write about?

I am staring at the screen. I want to write something. What do I write about?

About the man who was snoring on the train last night. About the lady who was meditating. Or do I write about the bhelpuri wallah?

Tell me what I should write about. The boy with one hand? Or the girl with one leg? What about the fat executive in his Honda City? Or the pretty girl at the signal?

About this little girl on the road with those most beautiful eyes that I almost got lost in. The cute couple who looked so nice holding hands that I wanted to hold someone’s hands. But I could only hold the steering….

There is so much to tell you.