I remember watching a video reel once of an old man taking his pet turtle out for a walk. The act is so innocent, carefree, nonchalant, and unperturbed that the image says a zillion words without actually trying. It teleports me instantly to an extremely
When she hurts,They close their eyesAnd pretend to be – the blind men,She is in pain,Can’t you see?What happened to you, my kind men? They cajole her oftenTo their command,“Tired are you? Sleep-tight men!Need some food?”Maybe all the time,Isn’t that right, famished men? She is
खोजूं तेरे समभावशब्दों की धुरी में, तेरी आदतों में छिपती हैमेरी परछाइयों के निशाँ |तू सर्द में है वो मख़मली कम्बल,ओढ़ते ही जो भुला दे दिन रात का पता |हरारत में तेरी उँगलियों के छींटे,सौंप दे जो ओस की सीत्कार,तू शब्द है ऐसे प्रचंड,लगते ही
How would you rather have me?Between the words of a meterOr in a misshapen form.Fighting a war with syllablesOr ridden with adjectivesWith allusions galore.Do you like me in a rhyme?Or prefer me not in a noteTo a metrical song.Do you want to sell me?In the
I woke up to a parched throat, and mumbled, “Wwwattteerr!” I realized I was unable to convey my request forward for my mouth felt paralyzed. I shouted at the top of my lungs but the nurses still couldn’t understand. “Wwwwaaabbbeeerrrr!” They looked at each other
Each day is my writing pad,I carve letters through my routine,Some days sound the sameBut every page remains different.Some days don’t speak at all,While some days sing a song,Some end up getting torn,When I trundle on their edgesTo test at what point do I fallOut
Today I sleepA slumber so deep,I might not wake up tomorrow,While the world I keepWouldn’t care to peepInto the foreboding of my sorrow. Might I lie,If fine am I,It is the knell that peals yonder,That brings nighA will to dieTo end my ceaseless wander. Some
ऐ बीमारतू है किसका शिकार ? शायद वो हवाजो चली थी सर्राटे से,बदल गई मिजाज तेरे,सिकोड़ गई तुझेअपने आवरण में,ले गई तुझे अपने भीतरखुद से अवगत कराने | या वो पानी जो तू पी गयाबिन सोचे समझे,तू कहता थापानी का रंग तोदिखता है प्यासे को,मैंने
I have heard this probably a thousand times from people, cursing the weather, the traffic, the situation they are in, complaining and cribbing about other people, about their pain, about how insignificant they feel, comparing their lives with others, drooling over things they believe they
There is a villain in my house, He has murdered conscience And hid its body in the attic. He steals right under my nose, Honest money and truthful notes, And saves malice for those Who try to race him to the finish line. He eats