I wish to meet Jorge Luis Borges in time travel and tell him I have set myself on a task to read your “entire corpus.”

I wish to meet Jorge Luis Borges in time travel and tell him I have set myself on a task to read your “entire corpus.”
It would have been so easy to take him in my arms and console him, to extend the hour, to try overtly to give him a demonstration of affection and … Continue reading Dibs in Search of Self
Irrespective of all the pragmatic reasoning and intellectual discourse one gives oneself, certain matters slips out of hands, overwhelmed we are thus of the circumstances or people who rupture the serenity of our being and leave us to question our own sanity in the wake.
Oft, I believe finding right words to express the turmoil within deserts us, when required earnestly.
If only rain could come down pouring…
How do we allow someone to have enough hold on us to hurt us, it’s when we open ourselves to them. How imperative it’s then to keep ourself locked into a shell but what a pithy living that is again when you can’t breathe free and express yourself fully in a language meant for love.
Is it love when you get overwhelmed by someone or it’s the impression of someone being a match to your mind that you are thrilled with.
It’s a strange feeling to have at this point of time in my life when I haven’t even have thought of retiring from the society per se. Though I’m a … Continue reading Love After Love – Derek Walcott
माये नी माये
मैं इक शिकरा यार बनाया
ओदे सिर ते कलगी
ओदे पैरीं झांजर
ते ओ चोग चुगेंदा आया
इक ओदे रूप दी धुप तिखेरी
दुजा महकां दा तिरहाया
तीजा ओदा रंग गुलाबी
किसे गोरी मां दा जाया
दुखण मेरे नैनां दे कोये
विच हाड़ हंजुआं दा आईया
सारी रात गई विच सोचां
उस ए कि जुल्म कमाया
सुबह सवेरे लै नी वटणा
असां मल मल ओस नव्हाया
देही दे विचों निकलण चींगां
ते साडा हाथ गया कुम्हलाया
चूरी कुट्टां तां ओ खांदा नाही
ओन्हुं दिल दा मांस खवाया
इक उडारी ऐसी मारी
ओ मुड़ वतनी ना आया
ओ माये नीं
मैं इक शिकरा यार बनाया
ओदे सिर ते कलगी
ओदे पैरीं झांजर
ते ओ चोग चुगेंदा आया
Shayari Dil Se
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Woh kare baat toh har lafz se khushboo aaye, Aisi boli wohi bole jise Urdu aaye. -Poet Ahmed Wasi-
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Illegible manifestation of postmodern debris
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Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
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Something always escapes!
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Life has always been interesting...
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Life has always been interesting...
Life has always been interesting...