There is a market huge for class elite narrating stories of their climb to fame through the stairs of plight And that is fair enough 'cause all are not gifted with life rough and tough But is there a market that has a story by the weavers of carpet Stories of those who... Continue Reading →
My nation looks like an evening smoke rising from the corn on the cob They stole the bread from the poor's bowl and played a game foul I know it has taken a lot of toll to win that election poll It must have taken a certain level of expertise to snatch... Continue Reading →
The poem aims at drawing light on the absurd definition of success and how deeply we have inculcated these beliefs in our life.
Can we imagine a world where there is no such thing as "writing"? Obviously No. Human development integrates writing as one of the fundamental skills. That is why the next thing a child is made to learn after verbal skill is writing. It is due to all the written records and accounts of the travellers, philosophers and thinkers that we could interrogate, improve and evolve. I wonder if there exists something as satisfying as the sound of nib scratching on paper.
The poem is written about the failed Mayan prophecy which predicted that an apocalypse of death and destruction will end the world in 2012.
The poem is dedicated to everyone who has moved away from home and family, in pursuit of their dreams.
the turbulent ghats the serene river a bouncing heart a hand quiver the bunch of roses a diamond ring thousands dreams a sudden sting the sacred chants a holy song the moment brief a story long.