Too many of us think love dies; with the break of the heart, with the feelings that didn’t last. But love is a emotion, and emotions don’t die. It’s energy, and energy thrives even when words and meanings cease to survive. Lovers find another lovers, and that’s how love survives. But Lovers die. When the … More Survival
I don’t like smiling faces What I mean is I don’t like faces that smile all the time. They put the obvious under a veil shielding away the demands of their body; they turn a close eye to the fact of the time. The stretch of their muscles give away a suppressed sigh, … More I don’t like Smiling Faces
“It’s strange, you know, that you came today, after all this time, after all that happened”.”But, honestly, it doesn’t feel unusual. In fact it doesn’t feel strange at all. It’s like all those things in the past never happened. And I’m glad that I can sit with you today, sipping coffee and discuss it.” he … More Release from a knock
All the wars in the world, covering distant geographical spaces, many a times not even connected by land, yet they all have one same story to tell as they Source: Women Of War | Youth Ki Awaaz
It all began on a journey away from home, in a longing for a place I would want to call home. I was in the company of my friends and acquaintances yet I was alone, alone- not in the sense that we all secretly want to be, but in a way that makes you want … More Home
Reading old diary entries is like hugging yourself. You look at the cause, you look at the flaws and you know what is going to happen next, you know exactly what did happen next but you can’t stop yourself from falling in love with the sheer innocence of those words scribbled on the sheets. The … More Dear Diary,
And, they tell you that she was in pain, that it’s better this way, now that she is dead. And, they tell you- you can now talk about her, that there can be a place for her inside the house, now that she needs no more. And, they tell you- you can raise her on … More They; The People.
We have learned to live with the noise, the one outside and the one inside. It helps us sleep, sometimes, the noise outside Because what lives inside likes to talk at night . But the noise inside is my own voice. It speaks of things I deny with open eyes It digs the grave I … More Noise
I’m a product of fragments I’m the fragment. My verse is broken My lyric cut, My word is scattered And, my story unheard. My reality is shaken And, life fractured. I’m a product of fragments I live in shreds. I crumble at touch That augurs trust; Sometimes, mist Othertimes, dust. I shatter at smiles With … More Fragment
It’s the sound of the long creak after the pause. The door is rust, perhaps, or the oiling needs to be re-done. Faint hustles make way as the door creaks wide open and lets the reader witness the havoc inside. Words were flying hither tither. A few stale sentences lie on the couch with huge … More The Writer is Smiling!