And she sat there , in front of her fiery son , laid forever , in pieces of uneven fiery wood , quiet as usual but this pious stillness was for forever , she was fixed to the ground, she sat straight , head high her eyes closed , shut and compact , the kohl washed away drop by drop . she was quiet , counted her beads of rosary for the last time , she prayed for her son . and her son , yes he , his spirit moved around aimless in search of a body , to osculate his mother’s feet and for the last time , hopes in vain .
The best yoga of a day is reading a poem or a book .....A complete peace of mind and a refresher .... Things become easy when u have a complete mental peace .... Stop each and every work for 2 minutes , read a poem and i bet you will feel fresh all over again :)
I have written to you,God,grand poet and mentor, the living,extinct,prevailing wind and conscience of the universe, the unwilling,abettor of natural calamities,and unjustifiable, casual observer of human genocides among human assailants, to take note of your neutrality, having observe all these
Expedition of life starts at dawn. Trainers come genetically, custom and society fill the gap, we start a journey, the route is misty. I started for the Kanchenjunga Half of the track was well lit road rest was chosen weather-wise.