If you think of it

Pleasure is so transient
It is much like a gust of wind.
It is like the cube of ice which slips away
From your grip on a summer afternoon.


If I think of bliss,
It is like seeing the sea after a long time.
It is like watching the stars
At night from the terrace.


Satisfaction is much like a chewing gum,
You keep on doing it without knowing.
You only know when you are not satisfied,
You only know you are not chewing the gum any more.


If I talk of passion,
Nothing beats that when she first holds your hands,
And you don't want to leave her soon.
You know what you feel.


When I think of sanity,
It is like washing your hands
Before you eat.
It is very ritualistic.


If I talk of happiness,
It is that moment when you know you have won.
It also includes those moments afterwards,
When you know you could have lost, and
That it did not happen.


Comfort is less vague,
It is indeed a lot of respiration.
It is like the silence which is not disturbing.
It is like that puff of smoke, which mattered most.


Love is unassuming,
It is that which you never noticed,
It is that very small thing which by its inevitable presence
Did not need your attention.


When I think of life,
It is like that cup of tea,
Without the right amount of sugar.
It is like the pop-corn you buy at a theatre,
Too filling, without much value.