An old man walks with his experienceAnd his adorable paunch, With an ailment in his pocket,A newspaper ‘neath his arm. Keen eyes for the steps ahead,Not so much for the drunken path, Chained to the table of time,Where he finds his daily bread, A life
I often think about how every experience that you have ever encountered, remains entirely yours. Nothing in the world can ever come close to understanding it. No one can fathom the nitty-gritty of what you are going through or what you went through. Sure, they
As Vivek eagerly awaited his delayed train on the platform, he couldn’t help but wonder about his profound love for train journeys. He tried to recollect how it was never just about the mode of travel as a child, but rather the entire immersive experience
Recently, I got to visit a dhām, a sacred place where devotees throng in large numbers. Since it is quite popular, being squashed by people is obligatory. The experience that was supposed to be rewarding on day one ended up being sour, due to the
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