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Marionettes

Even in the blazing summerThe world has frozen overSplattered with bloodOf swindled innocentsLoss of generationsUnconsoled lamentationsOur souls so coldHearts so numb;When Gods are at warMen matter no more?Just marionettes, pettyIn the playbook of destiny!

Books, Paper, and Pens

Books were bought with care and cherished; not hoarded into digital spaces because someone recommended the next best-seller. Reading was not competition; it was relaxation.

Book Review: The Nonchalant Man Between Worlds

Quite a few stories are narrative in style, imageries piling up, increasingly reflecting the complexity of perceptions. Chan clearly questions, “Has the world always been like this, both insane and chaotic, only he has not seen it as it actually is until now?” This is the theme of the book. Anguished ponderings on the chaos in our minds, purpose, and meaning of our lives, as we try to find a place as friends, lovers, and social beings.

Book Review: Bombay Hangovers

The fragility of the aged, raciness of the illicit, achiness of nostalgia and aging bones, the darkness of lust, tender cares of motherhood, the inevitability of fading youth, travails of escapism, and troubled demons of haunted pasts – each story is woven to create an elaborate tapestry.

Silence

I walked the obscure pathTraversed distances, aloneI doubted myself, lonelyCraving for company;At the end of the rainbowI searched high and lowMagical messages to know“It is okay to be on your ownTo make choices, unknownFor in silence, growsThe strength of souls!”

Starry Visions

I sieved the starsThrough my fingersThey fell on the groundNow, sparkling dust!The mist from my eyesMingled in the glassThe shimmer flowedInto oceans and seasLuminescence washedTo the silver beach,I picked up the shardsOf the broken stars.One with the sandBy the shores I standCrystal dreams in my handI clutch them to the bosom,The roaring skies demandThe glitterContinue reading “Starry Visions”

War

A surge in my veinsThrobbing templesBurning sensationOf rising resentmentHelpless, I seeMen in power beReckless, remorselessStirring uprisingsWhere anger isDirected to fellowsWithout folly, sans flawSo, fingers do not point,To merchants of war!

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