Literature

The shadow of my long dayDoes it still pace back and forth with pain?The sad memories in my heartCan’t be erased with spilling tearsFrom where should I erase?I can only let out an empty laughClear memories nailed in my heart.Faces that…

In 1981 when Harold Evans sat on the pinnacle of British journalism , The Sunday Times, and was writing his first policy editorial, he heard the voice of Abraham Lincoln in his ear. The President had said in 1861 ,' he knew nothing more…

Life is full of struggles. Some people understand this soon enough and some take a long time to realize this truth and learn to deal with it. It is true that “Time waits for none” and in the meantime, we lose our own virtue and personality…

For it has been 253 days now,My letterbox lies emptyI still am being optimisticWhen butterflies would run across my stomachWhen would I get remembered certainly?The postman comes once in a whileringing his cycle's bell"Finally I am…

Those glimmering feathers Of pink and white Sailing in happiness over the sky Like a ray of hope In spite of the drooping day Is how they frame an effigy! They share an invisible bond The wind so lazy …

He was tall, dark and handsome. But that’s not what made me see him. What attracted me to him was his silence. So quiet. Only his eyes did the talking…if ever there was any talking to be done. But never to me. Oh! How I longed to talk to…

When I look back now, I realize exactly where I stood. Pretty much between the devil and the deep blue sea. Getting away wasn’t easy. Making the choice broke me. But I did it anyway. It was the winter of my tenth standard. Cold winds…

For the heavens call for usSalvation is the songsame mother, same originShould they sing for usIn the open beam of lightOver the boundless blue skyFrom where we belongIs our mother's lap, so divineThe colossal ball of burning lightThat…

I don’t know ifThe way I look at the skyIs the same way you look at itI run across the lusty fieldsKissing the peachy skyI lay on the rusty hayTo look at the twittering birds up highI dip my fingers to ripple the waterWhile the kites start…

As we thus sit here At the confluence Watching these two rivers Flowing into and Out of each other, Will you not let me say How exactly I feel by your side? Hanging next to you Is like being an aerial root Of an old banyan Not seeking the…