The illness of the setting Sun

This poem is the byproduct of anger against the burning of over 30 schools in the Kashmir valley amidst civil unrest. It is disturbing to see how low humanity can stoop and what horrors it can bring forth.

Continue reading “The illness of the setting Sun”

A life that slipped away without a hint

This poem is a translation of a poem I wrote long back. The original title was बीता हुआ जीवन and it is the voice of a person who is about to die and is evaluating his life in his final moments.

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Dreams

Here’s how dreams work for a constantly dreaming person 🙂

Sometimes sweet, sometimes ecstatic.
Often scary, but always classic.
For every situation and at every stake,
My poor heart has a dream to make!

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