A development professional at work. I started writing poems right from childhood. Then came a phase of writing prose. Well functional with English and Hindi , can write easily in both the languages. Someday want to write something so beautiful that 30 years after i ham gone someone reads my work and say"wow". The search for the feelings and words is on.
My innocent little sister In your eyes You see me as a guardian Shining bright with a halo over my head Wings as pure as jade A mountain that doesn’t move Even when the earth shakes When the thunder strikes
I was scrolling through a few of the #MeToo posts on my timeline, when, I thought I’d bring a few questions clawing my mind, to the society’s attention – How could you throw the unassuming girl child to the ants,
The shrine of Madonna stood tall, The high king’s rapier fell down, not anymore was he the young prince, for he was devoid of all feelings. The shrine of Madonna stood strong, The high king’s blood washed the ivory pedestal,
A misbelief breaks into rags. Still I dream of some gods on black pages piecing together the words of light. The rains come in the cage of tears, voicelessly. Striated muscles of splintered faith go to cramps birthing the avatar