Aur latke hain abhi khayal, Zehen ki rassiyon par, Ke inke bal, Kheench kar lambe karne hoge.A poet, writer, playwright, a keen observer. Have a target set already, but a long way to go on a road traveled by like minded humans. That makes it easier though.
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
There was thunder in the hut teeth clattered under the ground. Handcuffed you walk in inequality to qualify for hanging till dead. I may not tell myself what was happening to me. Moving in opposite direction the bird was able