About memories and ashes.
About a picture of an old woman.
For a girl, about to be a woman, to tell her that she is much more than the world has (majorly) perceived her to be. To make her realize about her capabilities.
What is love?
This is an experience of a dear friend, who narrated it to me, and I could not help but pen it down myself. Some of the details are cooked up, but the emotions were real. It is being posted with permission.
A tribute to poets.
A fictitious sexual encounter with an imaginary red-haired girl.
A humble attempt to describe the beautiful sunset by the TIFR sea-face on a peaceful February Sunday.
Whom is poetry written for?
On a lover of the past.
Realizations of a pained soul that looks forward to see the world.
An ode to the city where I grew up, before leaving it for long.
About sharing sunsets with a stranger on a distant roof, day after day.
Standing by my dreams.
Debris of first love.
A war-poem, with a deeper meaning hidden in the identities of the people involved.
Lies crush innocent hearts.