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Oh Capricorn moon, will you fade away, Unaware of the ache within my heart? Every moment, I suffer silently, Though I see you before me, I gaze in vain. In every moment you don’t love me, Please don’t leave your presence from my soul. This is my prayer, my life's refuge! What is the greatest pain in this world? It is the silence, the unspoken word. Standing before me, yet not speaking— Is this not the deepest agony of a lover’s soul? Living without love is the greatest crime, A fire burning deep within the heart’s core. Love was never a mere trivial game, Beyond fleeting smiles, it’s a profound truth. When hearts are untouched and passed by, It’s a truth that casts them into sorrow’s abyss. If you don’t understand this, my dear, Will you see the fire that scorches my heart? No matter how many hearts bleed and break, A thousand lifetimes won’t be enough without you. No matter how many poems I write, No matter how long my life’s journey, Without you...

  I am but a blanket, more than mere cloth and weave, Woven not just with threads, but with whispers that cleave To the soft echoes of a thousand human hearts, A silent confidant where solace imparts. I cradle the shivers that steal through the night, A guardian of warmth against the cold's bitter bite. For those with no home, I offer a humble embrace, A shield from the wind in a desolate space. I whisper warmth to a sleeping child's softest breath, A gentle lullaby, warding off fear and death. And for the weary, I offer silent comfort's sway, Rocking them softly until the dawn of a new day. My fibers know the weight of sorrow's long night, Absorbing the salty tears of quiet despair's plight. Each tremor, each sigh, each unspoken plea, Held close within me, for all the world to see A tapestry of resilience, stitched strong and true, Where fragments of pain find solace anew. I have felt the intricate dreams of the lonely soul, The vibrant, gentle laughter of hope mak...

 See, the Niḷa flows, so gentle, shy, and sweet, A whispered smile where sunbeams softly meet. Like breezes mild that stir the waves to grace, She kisses stones, a blush upon her face. In currents soft, her love begins to gleam, A vibrant bloom beside a verdant dream. Though silent tears might well within her eyes, Through life's long journey, ardent love still rise. When clouds pour down their mercy, soft as dew, She folds the earth in an embrace so true. With chilling touch, her tender heart takes flight, While shy trees bend, enchanted by her light. Along her banks, old temples greet the dawn, Where chants arise as prayers are softly drawn. In flickering lamps, her waters softly gleam, She cradles faith within her ancient dream. The storyteller gathers by her side, Where children’s wonder meets the river’s tide. In every swirl, a fable softly told, Of gods and mortals, destinies of old. Yet, mark the change when furious winds descend, And roots of floods their wild command exten...

  Behold, within me, change begins to bloom, A silent tide encroaching, banishing all gloom, Yet prompting questions deep within my core: Who am I now? What waits beyond this shore? This path ahead, still veiled in mists unknown, Though all things move as if on patterns sown— A dance of old, endlessly replayed, While something new within my soul's arrayed All seems unchanged without, serene, inert, Yet deep within, a restless pulse, alert. Yes, with me linger friendships, first and true, And bonds that intertwined, forever new. Did they take root within my very soul, Or do they merely haunt, beyond control? I swear no novel utterance I've made, No different truth from my true self betrayed Yet, O relentless Time, with subtle hand, You weave your changes through this mortal land. Unbidden, silently, they seep in deep, While stolen years in silent slumber sleep. How many seasons, swift as shadows, flown? Since first I saw them, have they left me prone? Have they all drifted, vani...

As I wove threads of love within my heart, Alas! With every bond, a stain of sorrow spread, unseen! They who smiled so dear, then turned foe in a trice, And oh! 'Twas those to whom I bared my soul, Who themselves shattered it, this very heart—such is fate! When the sweet rain of laughter poured, my friend, Still, a subtle sting lingered in the corner of my eyes. Faces that darkened even the day's bright light, My dear foes, they appeared in midnight's memory, Without warning, bringing pain to these very eyes! When love transforms to shadow, alas! I cannot keep them within my mind's embrace! My heart falters, and my body trembles, For a hidden smile, behind, alas! Was like the very sharpness of a blade! Amidst the lengthening silences' shade, Some are lost, my friend, forevermore, Even those who were once by my side! The more affection grows, the more, alas! Does sorrow also swell, within this chest's abode, Leaving no space, however small, empty, But...

The World Inverted: A Fall's Profound Discovery The paths ahead once gleamed with certain light, Yet shadows dragged my soul into the night. I marched ahead, with purpose in my stride, But left my heart, where truth and pain abide. Then came the fall—a sudden, jarring blow, A stolen breath, a world I did not know. I hit the ground, unmoored from all before, My body numb, my spirit bruised and sore. The sky, familiar, turned askew and strange— The world inverted in a fateful change. I fell from health, that vibrant, easy grace, From treasured bonds, now shadows in their place. From dreams once bold and gleaming in the sky, To silent prayers beneath a muted cry. Some words once warm turned hollow, distant, cold, Some stories tumbled, broken, never told. Some falls were poverty's relentless weight, Others were mirrors warped by pride and hate. And so I lay, and in the stillness saw— The me I wore, wrapped in a fragile law. That headfirst moment twisted all I knew— The ...

                                  ...I... The Genesis of the Waking Dream Not in the mists where quiet slumbers stray, But in the fierce, demanding light of day, A dream takes root, a fervent, vibrant spark, That banishes the quiet, brooding dark. It pulls your gaze, it steals your precious rest, A burning whisper deep within your breast. No fleeting wish, no idle, hopeful sigh, But purpose etched against a boundless sky. It haunts the dawn, through weary, moonless night, A beacon in the fading, lonely light.                               ....II...  The Indispensable Act of Courage A bold  desire, the sacred seed is sown, For greatness whispered, intimately known. But sterile earth yields naught, however grand, And seeds need deluge, furrowed by the hand. They need the storm, the struggle, raw and strong, An...

  I walked the path, a common stride, Through days half-seen, and truths half-spied. A phantom self, I drifted through, Unaware of skies so wide and blue. Then, softly, like a morning gleam, Awoke from life's unwitting dream, A gentle stirring, deep and low, A seed of knowing starts to grow. A curtain lifted, thin and wide, Revealing treasures deep inside. No grander quest, no higher art, Than knowing the rhythm of my own heart. This inner landscape, vast and free, Unveiled in conscious liberty. The whispers of the soul made plain, Washing away all transient pain. Self-realized, I stand complete, The bitter learned, the victory sweet. No longer lost, no longer swayed, By shadows where my spirit played. Each inner conflict, now a guide, No longer truths I need to hide. I see the purpose in my scars, Reflecting light like distant stars. The tangled threads of what had been, Now woven to a vibrant sheen. This knowing deep, a steady hand, A compass in an unknown land. With ...

Inspired by the Teachings of Mahavatar Babaji “Truth is simple. It is we who make it complex.” – Mahavatar Babaji Oh soul, awaken — the time is near, To see this world not in doubt or fear. Put on the lens of purest light, And walk with wisdom through the night. Everyone must wear the inner sight, To pierce through shadows, to know the right. Not eyes alone, but heart must see— The world as Truth, eternally free.  “Be the witness of the world, not its slave.” – Mahavatar Babaji You tire of forms, of colors that fade, You seek the Truth beneath the shade. No more illusion, no more disguise, See with the Self beyond the eyes. Cleanse your vision, sharpen your gaze, Through yoga, silence, sacred ways. What you see is not always real— Truth lies deeper, still and still.  “With right vision comes right action.” – Mahavatar Babaji See injustice not with anger’s flame, But with love that calls each soul by name. Poverty, hunger, walls of hate— Are cries of karma we must f...

The glint of sword, a mere theatre of play, A burning keenness in the eye, for War's grim fray. On soil stained crimson, each new line is drawn— A cruel fortress raised at Ignorance's dawn. This stage-set strife, no simple sight to see, But of the soul, a deep and fierce malady. A musket's crack, no common sound that flies, But shatters dreams and scatters native cries. When man's humanity, benumbed and cold, Turns every thought, like stones, both stiff and old. For Fear—a monstrous kraken—doth embrace The void where Reason finds no dwelling place. With weapon blunt, the fool's own hand doth wield; The ignorant thus hold the bloodied field. He that doth conquer sheathes his blade with pride— A victory won, where sorrow doth abide. But in the vanquished’s eye, a silence deep: A tongue untold, that weary nations weep. Who bears the burden of their whispered woe? Or doth Time’s self this heavy sorrow know? Peace's Defeat: A Rebirth E'er ...

Beyond the door, where secrets softly breathe, These four stark walls, my rented room, believe. No mere enclosure, but a timeless stage, For life's unfolding drama, page by page. Some entered hopeful, with a brand-new key, Seeking solace, from a world to flee. Others, alone, found solace in a pair, Building laughter, chasing out despair. Nights stretched so long, as dreams began to spin, Tears watered silent stains from deep within. But dawn would break, and sun would find its rise, New chapters starting, before tired eyes. The morning rush, a frying pan's soft hiss, Late-night cigarettes, a hazy, fleeting kiss. Tea-stained arguments, echoing through the air, A humble shelter, from a world of care. Old letters hidden, photos slightly blurred, Each telling stories, whispered, overheard. Perhaps a book with secrets in its fold, A hidden life, waiting to be told. Some chased the city's pulse, and soared so high, While others withered, beneath a vacant sky. The star...

Hirabai Ibrahim Lobi, the remarkable Siddi social worker from Gujarat who was honored with the Padma Shri in 2023 for her tireless efforts in uplifting the Siddi tribal community, especially women and children. I am the Earth-Born, deep and true, No foreign shore, but from this soil I grew. Though oceans weren't crossed, their rhythm I hold, In hands that have stories, brave and old. I am the kin of Siddi's heart, A drum of dark continenent Africa, set gently apart, Yet beating in tune with Hind's embrace, A melody found in this sacred space. My children, I've come, my voice reborn, To weave my tales with colors of the morn. My face is dark – not night's heavy shroud, But dawn's transformation, bursting proud. I toiled the fields, in wild woods I've been, Plowed the earth, sowed dreams unforeseen. No common bond, no caste to declare, Yet within my spirit, a dignity rare. I am the nameless, though my tongue may fade, My dance remembers the heritag...

"Bangles... Bangles..Bangles..." New bangles here! Full of colors!" "Bangles just for your liking!" "Dazzling shades, beauty to adorn your hands!" Bangles, bangles, bangles! For your happiness, for your love! For your family's prosperity, for your little one's smile! Every bangle tells a story..." "Glass bangles! Delicate bangles! To wear on your hands, to fill your heart with joy! Bangles, bangles, bangles! For a new beginning, for a brighter tomorrow! Here I am, your very own bangle seller!" It's not just bangles I carry on my head, It's a world, the roof of my home, My child's laughter, my mother's medicine, A path of life, steeped in salty tears. "Bangles, bangles! New bangles here!" I carry glass bangles, in a hundred hues, A hundred dreams woven into each; Red for love, green for hope, But in many eyes, only the price is seen. "Bangles, bangles! Full of colors!" As I traverse...

I was the moon once, lighting your darkness. No questions. Just light. But you— you were the wind that slipped away, not even a rustle of goodbye. Days without words hung from my chest, heavy beads. Alone, I didn't crumble. I watched. I waited. My love was rain on parched fields: soft, steady, giving. You turned it to mud, trampling it like it was nothing. I swallowed every lie you fed me, like a mother's bitter medicine for the child in her heart. But I wasn't your mother. I was the fire you kept poking, thinking it wouldn't burn. While you slept soundly, I burned my dreams to keep the house warm. From those ashes, I rise now— not a phoenix. Something fiercer,Quieter. Unapologetically whole. I am no longer your shadow. You forgot how I was born. I remember. I am woman. I am flame. I am mother. I am the poem you will never finish reading. My tears were not drops; they were oceans. If you couldn't spark a light in that sea, the loss is yours. ...

  I was born of friction, a whispered grace, A dance of light in a shadowed space. You called me soul, you called me might, The very essence of your inward light. From hearths where stories gently spun, To sun-kissed altars, setting free the sun, I was your breath, your sacred vow, A cleansing touch on a furrowed brow. My warmth embraced the newborn's cry, Kissed lovers' cheeks beneath the sky. I simmered low in pots of stew, And lit the path for me and you. I sealed your letters, fraught with care, And purified your whispered prayer. My flicker promised trust and grace, A tranquil solace in time and space. But then, the whisper turned to roar, A hunger gnawing at my core. You struck the match, not for the light, But to erase the morning bright. You taught me hate, a searing truth, To scorch the innocent bloom of youth. I watched as dreams, like kindling, fell, And felt the echoes of a silent hell. My meteoric stones, like fireballs flung, Hold sin's dark stains...

Upon the silent edge I found her grace, No pallid shroud, nor clanking of a chain, But lullabies enwoven in her face, And ancient sorrow folded in her pain. She spake, "I am the shade of what untold, The grief unchristened, by the world unnamed. 'Postpartum,' they did call it, swift and cold, As if mere time such anguish had contained." No chilling draft, no whisper on the air, Yet felt I then the burden of her sight. She told of children, vanished past compare, Not lost to earth, but cradled from the light. For strangled dreams, ere breath their being drew, And joy, in infancy, by hands unseen, Were offerings given, bitter, stark, and true, The death of futures, where no light had been. "These are the ones no burial rites attend," She murmured low, "Thus must I ever bear." "Dear Jayan," once she breathed, "unto the end, I rode unseen, a shadow in your care. You turned not 'round, but hastened on your way,...

  We are the dust that dances in the sun's first ray, the ancient whisper of a long-forgotten day. Born of stardust, dreaming on a fragile sphere, each heart a universe holding hope and fear. We build our cities, towering to the blue, weave tapestries of knowledge, ever new. We chart the stars, and dive the ocean's deep, while silent rivers of emotion softly sleep beneath the surface, till a storm begins to brew. We chase the shadows, wrestle with the night, and sometimes stumble, losing hold of light. The scars we carry, etched upon the soul, tell tales of lessons, making us more whole. For every sorrow, there’s a dawn that breaks anew— a gentle promise, whispered, strong and true. We seek connection, hand in outstretched hand, a bridge of understanding across every land. Though voices differ, and the paths diverge, a common longing in our spirits does emerge: To be seen, to be heard, to truly belong, to find our rhythm in humanity's grand s...

Even without knowing any language, this one speaks to my soul — it is my own and you The wind bites sharp, a sudden, piercing chill, And in that snap, our trembling muscles thrill. No matter where we stand, in sun or shade, A tiny tremor, subtly played, a whisper made Of heat desired, a primal, urgent plea, To guard the core, for all the world to see Our goosebump-flesh, a landscape raised and cold, A story ancient, endlessly retold. We are shivering, though the reason may not be The frost that nips the branches of a tree. Perhaps a sudden fright, a whispered fear, A shadow falling, drawing danger near. A primal jolt that tightens every nerve, A warning bell, a promise to preserve. The fight or flight, a rush of pounding grace, Reflected outward, trembling in its place. We are shivering, when a thrill takes hold, A story whispered, brave and fiercely bold. The rush of joy, a victory hard-won, A burst of feeling, bright as morning sun. Anticipation, sweet and sharp and keen, Before the ...

We are the clowns, yes— not under canvas tents, but lined on either side of life’s narrow, neon-lit streets. Our faces, once vibrant, now splattered in fading colors, like old murals washed by endless rain. We compete silently, a desperate ballet of pretense, flinging shades of manufactured joy to outshine one another, each splash a louder lie. Smiling wide, hollow smiles that echo in the cavern of our chests, a futile attempt to fill our stomachs and fool the unforgiving gaze of mirrors. We crave sustenance, not of bread, but of acceptance, a hunger that gnaws deeper than any physical ache. We cradle sorrow like a dear, unwanted companion, a shadow stitched to our very souls. And we display someone else's joy— a stolen spotlight, a borrowed hue— as if it were our own sun, praying no one notices the flickering, borrowed light, the counterfeit warmth we cast. The fear of exposure is a constant hum behind our ears. Still, who among us is truly happy? Only disappointment b...

Invisible breath of sky and sea, You dance in leaves and set hearts free. With every sigh and whispered tone, You build the life we've always known. Born in stars, then found in trees, You ride the wind, you kiss the breeze. From mountain peaks to ocean floor, You feed the fire at every core. In lungs you live, in blood you stream, You stir the soul, ignite the dream. Without your grace, the world would fade— No pulse, no spark, no light displayed. A silent force, a primal call, You shaped the world, prevented fall. From ancient seas, where life began, Your rise gave breath to beast and man. Yet potent spark, if left unbound, Can scorch the earth and blacken ground. For breath that gives can also take— A balance fine, we must not break. But shadows creep where green once thrived, And forests fall, no roots survived. In urban haze, the silence grows, As choking skies no longer flow. The ocean warms, the corals pale, Its creatures gasp, their systems fail. A future dimmed...