I saw the lakes and the skies
The countrymen passing by
I left my place for an adventure new
I sat beside office crew.

-

The warrior rose in fury and grace,
Her arrow quivered, fierce and pure.
She was the light that darkness feared,
The end the demon could not endure.

That night, hell fell apart,
As darkness wrapped itself in a flame.
The women stood, with their freedom near,
Their tears no longer a shame.

They stood unchained, yet still in ache,
With hope alive in their burning eyes,
Calling to Krishna for their dignity —
For innocence had paid its price.

To shield their honor, Krishna married them,
Not from desire, but dignity’s call.
Their grace was restored by the Lord’s own hand,
As the Trinity witnessed it all.

That day, hell fell apart.
That night, dignity rose with pride.
And the universe remembered —
At the end of every tunnel, there is light.

-

That night, sixteen thousand women chanted in unison,
Each whispering a silent prayer —
Asking the Supreme to save them from their chains,
While hope knelt, bound in despair.

Sixteen thousand kings were slained by one entity,
Who ruled through terror and fear.
Unbothered, blind to his own wrongs,
He wore arrogance as destiny’s heir.

Granted a boon by the Supreme himself,
When the Lord incarnated in his third form,
Only Goddess Bhoomi could end his reign —
Lakshmi reborn in earthly norm.

The boon became a bondage,
The rule, a wrath untamed.
Hell trembled — and so did the heavens,
As the celestial beings crossed the flames.

He mocked the light, convinced that destiny
Would never intervene.
But little did he know —
That light can pierce through any dream.

Hearing the cries of countless women,
That dawn, the earth herself arose.
In Satyabhama’s mortal form,
She was Vishnu’s strength enclosed.

-

The Poet Who Forgot to Fly

I got my poems published,
But people had no time —
To read and understand me
Through my lyrical rhymes.

I thought poetry would crown me,
Lift me to unseen heights,
But now I’ve lost my wings,
Forgotten how to take flight.

The ink still hums within me,
But the melody feels shy,
A poet who once dreamt of heaven
Now stares at an empty sky

-

The Year the Ink Stayed Still”
I used to write poetries — or maybe I only tried,
Till the muse I trusted most turned out to be a lie.
Now the words I loved have drifted, silent and contrived,
The ink still flows, but the soul won’t rhyme.

A year has passed — I hold the pen, I try,
But every thought dissolves before it can fly.
I chase the ghosts of verses that once were mine,
The ink comes through my pen… but words don’t sublime.

-

Once scared to speak
Once scared to see
Now doing both, that's the adult me.

-

If ever your cruel heart desires to see,
Come to the Kalindi’s shore at noon with me.
I’ll fetch water—just a gentle guise,
Yet fill my eyes as I fill my jars.

To fetch the water, yes, I’ll feign that art,
But it’s you I’ll gather within my heart.
Come then, my slender dark beloved one,
Come, oh come, my only sun.

-

The emotions thin
As they flow like the mists of winds.

-

Follow it

-

Dekho chaand aaya

-