You might have often come across the question, “Are you a beach person or a mountain person?” I couldn’t help but wonder why conversations are always limited to these two obvious choices. Have you ever paused to consider how each one makes us feel? It’s
If things begin to spiralDown the rabbit hole,I would want you toLeave this poor sod alone.It’s a journeyTo the center of the earth.I can’t pull you down with me;You are not meant to burnLike us flammable.Not everyone shares a common fate;Some people are giftedWith graceful
रातों की नींद गायब है,अनहोनी की बिल्लाहट से,कोई तो छिपा है झाड़ियों में जो कर रहा इंतज़ार,मेरी तरह, मेरे सो जाने का। अंधेरे की दस्तक है,याद नहीं कि,दरवाज़ा बंद किया था या नहीं,फटी चादर ओढ़े,निराश्रय निहारता प्रकाश के ख़ाली झोले को, सोच में डूबाकौन है
There are times when I feel absolutely helpless. So often, I’ve wondered if there’s anyone on this entire planet with a definite answer to my longstanding question. Someone who truly understands my condition and carries a surefire cure in their satchel. Not even a search engine
Change that manTurn him into someone else—We didn’t like the first guy anyway.He smiled too wideLooked too happy.Wipe that grin from his face,Okay, let him keep half of it.We aren’t monsters—But let’s make him one. Bulge his eyes,Burn his ears,Slap his cheek so hardIt rings
When you have places to go,Miles to walk,And sometimes, more often than not,You stumble and fall.Find your wayOut of the hole,And somehow, you always,Get pulled down.Remember—Down is only a direction,And it’s okay to go there too,Just as you move left and rightOr row through lifeBack
It’s okay sometimesTo show your tears,Know your tears,And the place they come from.It is what makes youWhat you are.How long do you planTo rest in a bottle?Let everything outSmash it to pieces— Fall to the groundMake a mess,Vent it all out.Your boat is caught in a
It’s quite surreal how the expanse of people we touch in a lifetime remains so limited. We brush up against a handful and conjecture it to be our world. Around 8.1 billion people on this planet, and our lives are going to cross paths with
A torrent of tormentWhen it passes through life,It leaves behind a rare calm,For you to gather the piecesAfter the storm.The drumming and howlingOf last nightHave died down,Along with your hopesFor the familiar sun.The wind has droppedIts gears of introspection,To count your deadAnd find the breathing.Go!
Ticking clock,Loud breath,Heartbeats,Wet eyesStare at the door to open,Waiting for my saviourTo emergeAnd save me from –An empty room of solitude,And a heart ache.What’s a few more days,When you have waited a lifetime?Every hourGrieves your painful absence,And curses the time spent without you.These empty arms