Do you remember? You used to fly over the mountains, and I used to swim in the oceans. You used to come at the shore to tell me the secrets of skies, and I used to come at the shore to share the mysteries of ocean. You used to fly

Some conceal it behind the confident voices and visages, some bury it beneath the hoarded papers and social status, some try to gild it with good names: "Future plans" "Shopping," some try to escape through many ways: "Party vans" "Scrolling;" while very

My beloved asked me to cry in his bosom and I saw tears turning into pearls. My beloved asked me to die in his arms and I saw shroud turning into canopy. My beloved asked me to heed to the pitter-patter of his heart and I found it's

O Nomad, Look at my hand, cramped with the burden of banal routine callused with the hardness of hustle culture crushed by the demands of utilitarian lovers scalded with the blazes of unreal expectations, it has forgotten how to touch, how to sweat, how to caress, how to grow nails.

Being doubtless, dauntless, defenseless the heart dances demure-less to the whims of weightless, wordless, worriless wind. Being unfettered, unbothered, untamed the heart ululates unhinged to the sight of untouched, unreached, unlimited sky. Dancing so passionately it will break; I am afraid. Ululating so intensely it will abrade; I am afraid.

Wait, O Caterpillar. I know you are longing to fly currents of air you are wanting to ride, the fact of crawling squeezes your heart the prospect of flying relieves your heart. Amidst the toiling crawling twinging transforming you wait, just wait. Wait, O Seed. I know you want to

The lungs continue breathing The heart continues beating The hair continues to grow while I remain locked up in the upper chambers, where no breath reaches where no beat resounds where growth refuses to grow. The universe continues to spread arms The existence continues its sacred dance The life continues

Battered and bruised scattered and spruced by the mace of heat, I am wandering mirage to mirage desert after desert finding no embrace of shade. A craned neck and strained eyes show me nothing except dreary and desolate desert. But the hand hinged to curiosity found me something - a

The sweeper of soothing words succeeded not in sweeping out the scraps of sorrow, for scorching in the sparks of Silence was its seeking. The lancet of language lost in lowering the laments of heart, for losing itself in loyalty to Love was its longing. The phalanx of philosophies failed

Either call it a battleground - one narrative battling the other - or call it mind, the arrow hits the target. A battle - every day every hour every minute. Past against Present Present against Future Future against Past. In the aforemath of a battle In the aftermath of a

Yesterday, I was not. And so were all my fears all my worries "things to fix" and "things to attain." Today, I am. And so are all my fears all my worries "things to fix" and "things to attain." Tomorrow, I will

A boy named Pi having curiosities about life, whose answers he seeks through different religions. And because he is not in it to form opinions or to appear as if he knows a thing or two about life, a three-in-one religious identity naturally takes shape in him. He is not

Stop looking into the mirror your face is not there. Look closely, there are only temples enclosing weary what ifs only ears distorting symphony into cacophony only eyes lacking tears and dreams only nose lacking breath and smell only lips carrying smears and screams only skin imprisoning sweat. Can there

(For those who don't know, the tradition is such that Diwali - the biggest festival in India - is the celebration of victory of Lord Rama over demon-king Ravana, the former being the personification of Righteousness and Light and the latter of Evil and Darkness in an ancient

Listen! Listen! Listen! We have a demanding task at our hands. God has been enslaved by his devotees and we have to set Him free. Chiseled into the finery of temples enclosed within its four walls He is unable - unable to express His artistry. Impaled on the spire of

The world is a marketplace. All the men and women are mere traders. Every trader has a bird without wings. Because wings are the currency, and cheap things are bought with them. This is a strange marketplace. Thirsty trades away his river. Hungry trades away his fields. Patient trades away

Our animality is default. Our humanity is deliberate. Our default is where we are no different from animals. Fear, Greed, Envy, Attachment, Lust, Pleasure, Security, Body-preservation - animals have it, we have it, automatically, with no dignity of achieving any of them. But, this is not our end, this can&

The Fountainhead - a novel by Ayn Rand is a story of an architecture named Howard Roark who expresses through his work and his life the highest that Man has the potential to achieve. Achievement not in the sense of money, possessions, fame, praise et al. - these are the

The only way to worship a Mountain is to let its tremendousness crush your pettiness. The only way to worship the Sky is to let its openness threaten your limits. The only way to worship a River is to let its flowing-ness take away your rigidness. The only way to

So you are planning to spend the years of unmatched energy levels and enthusiasm, running after goals which are not yours worrying to complete the tasks which don’t really yield anything, just so that one day - when all of life has been sucked out of you, when those

He writes, He draws, He paints, He builds, He composes, He sings, He dances, He acts. Meet the first half of an artist. "First-half?" Yes, first half. Because the second half is almost always ignored. "Ignored?" Yes, ignored. Like the sap of a tree coursing through