I could feel my soul flee To the purple – red – brown mountains Where my feelings flow like the waters of Indus Or is it the Shyok? Where shadows of dawn & dusk Move silently with the sun… Partially covering the mountain facades My eyes feast on dew drops on the patches of grass With its golden bloom. Fresh scent of poplars restores my soul As it soars & soars higher Where water, clouds, sky & mountains intertwine In a timeless place called Ladakh, gloriously divine.
Eternal optimist, passionate & a keen learner. I love the outdoors & am at ease in the mountains & on the seas. Books are my constant companions & music is my stress buster. Travel & Indian Armed Forces are passions around which a large part of my life revolves, so much so, my entrepreneurial venture is based on both. My daughters are the centre of my universe and a few friends are a precious part of my constellation.A philosophy of life I live by...as long as you know & love who you are, opinions are just background noises.
index finger of left hand (likened to Michelangelo meticulously chiseling away at marble block), this poe whit attempts to coax (zealously tap into his latent indivisible quo shunt, sans self imposed quotidian literary endeavor slow lee witnessing, an emergent reasonably
You curled, cruised, kicked and got her crazy She enjoyed a cocktail of emotions and images all so fuzzy You slumbered after all wailing and weep She comforted you all night trading her sleep You talked miles and miles She
When your hot breath passes through warmth of my breath an amazing heat is born from the burning volcano of love that generates a new energy for two hearts to board a ship of love-dreams When my thirsty eyes peep
A school in a village without any pastel – Divine Child which never cares for riel Strives for excellence. Does propel The children upwards and rebel Against injustice gigantic or sea shell; Strives to let its stars and carvings excel
He awakens To a wicked world Of His own design Where the Damned Live amongst The Divine Their perfect little lives An illusion Fueled by vanity As He searches The darkness for light And His sanity Rythm of the heart