I write stories,
Of childhood fantasies,
Wisdom and morals,
That touch your heart.
I write stories,
Of orphaned girl,
Looking for love,
Throughout her life.
I write stories,
Of lovers separated,
By their political views,
And bureaucratic family.
I write stories,
Of oppressed Kashmiri Pandits,
Who lost their land,
And everything they cared,
To the tyrannic monster.
I write stories,
Of girl next door,
In search of Mr. Right,
With her friend,
Who is head over heels for her.
I write stories,
When I am very happy,
I write stories,
When I am very sad,
I write stories,
All the time,
While sleeping or wide-awake,
While walking or sitting,
While eating or drinking.
And When the passion is high.
I write stories,
Of horror encounters,
With spirits so evil,
Revengeful and spiteful,
That can give you nightmares.
I write stories,
Of an anxious man,
Who never steps out,
In fear of being dragged by a monster.
I write stories of boy,
From small town in Thailand,
Who becomes a girl,
At local crowded bar,
To earn quick money.
I write stories,
Of bored housewife,
Who chances upon solutions,
That can solve million problems,
Of country she belongs.
I write stories,
Of a warrior,
From Vedic Age,
Cursed by powerful sage,
To be born as mortal.
I write stories,
Of troubled youngster,
Who falls in trap,
Of false beliefs,
And becomes a terrorist.
I write stories,
Of beloved pet dog,
Who runs away,
In quest for adventure,
And becomes a hero.
I write stories,
Of spiritual journey,
Of chauvinistic atheist,
Who turns into devout bhakt,
By the mercy of God.
I write stories,
When I am very happy,
I write stories,
When I am very sad,
I write stories,
All the time,
While sleeping or wide-awake,
While walking or sitting,
While eating or drinking.
And When the passion is high.
