This body might’ve embraced many,But nothing compares to your warm caress,All the cells in my body affirm,They sing love songs of yoreWhose tremors are felt underneath the layersRight where the soul lurks –It feels at peaceThat it often forgets exists,Every organ prepares to mergeTo unite
“रुमाली रोटी! आज फिर तेरी याद आयी रे!” मन अचरज में पड़ाकी इतनी पतली हो कर भी तू कैसे भर देती पेट मेरा?रूमाल की हरकतें देख कर है तेरा नाम पड़ा, कई बार तो मैं धोखा खा कर जेब में तुझे ले चल पड़ा। न
When a flower wilts,It hurts the bee,So does it bother the thirsty,When the last drop of the river dries,Oars are no longer worthy,Does the boat forget its journey?Does the plant remember its child?Or the bee forgets to rueThe loss of a good thing in its
घर न जा परिंदे वहाँ ताला है बदला, तेरी चाबी से अब न खुलेगा,वापस कहाँ जाएगा?इतने दिनों तू था एक अजनबी, अब तुझे क्यों कोई गले लगाएगा?जिस युद्ध में था तू डूबा,वहाँ जाने से तुझे था रोका ,तू फिर भी लड़ने था दौड़ाकी तेरा रक्त
I often miss our communication,When we would speak so muchThat the world would evanesce,When we would hold each other’s gazeFor so longIt would unveil our longingTo be with each otherSo closeThat our breaths would mingleAnd fail to make out Yours from mine.What’s mine is yours,What’s
The world becoming smaller isn’t exactly a good thing. It has taken a lot of good old stuff from us. I hate how letters have gone extinct. Weren’t they a product of immense yearning? You wouldn’t waste it with your regular small talk. In a
जब तुम ठहरे हो एक कगार पर,कि अब टूटे की तब टूटे,जहाँ टूटने के सिवा और कुछ न कभी होता,इंतज़ार के चौखट पर शायद ही मन कभी सोता,तो क्या फ़ायदा हथेलियों का? जब रेत रोके न रुके, जब हर सोच हो बिखरने की, रास्ता हो
Gaming has been a big chunk of my life so much that I always return to it. If I mull over the why, the only thing that makes sense to me is that maybe it takes me to a different world. The bizarre possibilities of
Think about it, the only thing that makes sense of one’s fate is the concept of Karma. Otherwise, why would a child die at a very young age? What’s he punished for? Or why do two people born in the same circumstances experience life very
Why I hate to fightIs not the hurt,It is actually the aftermathWhen she pulls herself under a shellAnd struggles to trust me again.I was a monsterSome unfortunate minutes ago,It is so difficult to convinceThat I am not the same man,I was merely at my lowest