Of Pink Nailpolish and Life.

"More than just a pink nail color.."

Like the tiny little drop of pink nail paint,

hanging onto the tip of its bottle’s brush,

is the individualism of something called life-
sensitive, juvenile, tense and precarious!

Like a woman of appearance and vogue, handle it!
Govern life torrid but treat it temperate.
Look however she holds-
a bottle of her favourite pink nail colour between her fingers,
gentle of touch, but firm of grip!

Look how deep the woman with the vial of her nail paint
before application, submerges her brush inside it.
Up till the neck of the whisker it goes, till the deepest it can get.
And when the brush exits,
out, the bottle’s nozzle-
it’s nauseating with colour, dripping with chrome.
spitting out pigment if not handled with care!

Life is in itself a colour.
The more u immerse in it the happier it gets.
It isn’t just about breathing, prevailing, enduring.
Its more of indulgence, a lot of pamper.
Prosper in happiness, in joy, in glee.
Elate yourself in life’s hue and colour,
exhilarate yourself, in life’s chrome and odour.

Like the gentle strokes she gives,
with the brush on to her nail,
unto perfection
is what life too demands of us.
She fondles her nail and she soothes her nail.
and she strokes the whiskers onto her nail.
Not just once or twice,
thrice sometimes, or may be four.
But she’s cautious to not let her pink nail paint dry
Every stroke is a better try.
She goes on to do the edges just fine.
And polishes her nail, till every stroke rhymes.
She’s attaining completion; she’s looking for precision,
she won’t quit until she’s gained perfection.


Must we polish ourselves, with every moment that passes by.
Try over and try again,
until its excellence we reach!
There is always a next stroke left,
to make ourselves smoother, better.
But before the polish of our lives go dry,
must we catch on time, on space,
striving for betterment, for life’s enhancement.

And then, she sits back,
and lets dry her pink paint- patiently, collectedly.
Cautious enough, to not touch places,
for it is still vulnerable, prone to blotch.
Life teaches us to be patient, to be calm, composed.
Being clumsy and awkward can mean slanderous circumstances.

Just a vial of pink nail paint may it be,
but handling it with imprudence,
or polishing nails in indolence,
can mean a smudge on beauty!
Offensiveness for winsomeness!
Handling life an erratic way,
can mean asphyxiation for breath!
Death for life!