Journey of the Seed

I was like the cotton seed Happily floating in the summer breeze, Running to and fro I was too happy, Didn't want to grow, A cotton seed floating in the summer breeze. The farther I went, More joyfully I dreamt. Dreaming and twirling till the sky went dead. I swayed and swirled till the weather …

The Valley

I'm living in a valley surrounded by the lofty mountains. A tiny streams cuts these giants cradling the world around it by its constant gurgling. The stream is sluggish these days. The shadows of winter have crept into the its soul. It meanders slowly in introspection and retrospection. It no longer caresses the shore, no …

Seabuckthorn Tea : A Himalayan Secret

Seabuckthorn berry also known as the 'holy fruit' grows in the Himalayan desert of Spiti, Himachal Pradesh. Due to its ability to withstand the extreme temperatures , this plant is a super food. It is rich in Vitamin B1, B2, K, A, E , folic acid, over 60 antioxidants , atleast 20 minerals and healthy fatty acid. 

आख़री सूरज- सफ़र Part III (The Ending)

रहे देखने The setting sun have stories to tell. The retreating rays narrate the tale of a life half lived, the tears half shed , all the half smiles and the empty lives. As they retreat, the black curtain is pulled down. Slowly and steadily, the final words are pronounced, all the material things are …

सफ़र (A Journey) – Part II

''It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else's life with perfection''

सफ़र (A Journey) – Part I

For all those away from home, here is poem for you all..

The Feather

A broken feather does not wish to forget the memory of the sky. He still dreams about flying. The shell always carries the memory of the sea. Sometimes it becomes difficult to let go of a life that defined you. The memories will stay till your final day. Here is a poem about a broken feather, detached from his bird, its story needs to be heard.

An Ode to the Morning Dew

This is a poem about two star crossed lovers- the dew and its leaf. The dew shall return every night even if it has to fall in the morning light.

Broken Wings

When you stitch your broken wings and get ready for another act,you cannot really fly, you can just react.

I wish to Sing

How will the nightingale sing in the moonless night? Will she betray the songs that caress us all? Can she sing without her love ? Will her pain give the freedom that her love couldn’t give?