Everyone has a story..

Some tales are celebrated..
Some go unsung..

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सबने है देखा, सबने है बोला,
बच्चे तो सिर्फ माँ ने पाले,
किसी ने ना देखा, किसी ने ना बोला,
पिता के पैरों पर पड़े महनत के छाले।

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I stuckked over their for a while,
Seeing an innocent dimnish,
Butterfly...
She flew through petals of tulip,
To the roof of tiny hut..
Sometime she goes through,
the Air and sometimes,
through the Grasses of scutch..

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Those are unsung hero
who constructed
palace of your fairy tale.

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The tale which was
Meant to be sing
The beauty of her ,
Now that voice
Has been silently lost
In the crowd
Who he was?
An another Unsung hero..

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Saffron lady

I was committed to the saffron lady
and wanted a chance to get intimated.
She became the witness of my loyalty
when i stood spirited.
Civilians wrapped me with dignity
and by her smell i was fascinated.
With peace and prosperity
I kissed her and she was rejuvenated.

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// Unsung //

You are an unsung hero
Of someone's life,
finish your story for them.
Don't give up.

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रंगों को जब वर्दियों और देशभक्ति के लिए बांटा जाता है तब उनसे ज़्यादा खूबसूरत और गर्वानवित कुछ नहीं हो सकता,
और जब उन्हीं रंगो को भेदभाव दर्शाने इस्तेमाल किया जाता है तब उनसे ज़्यादा व्यथपूर्ण और बत्तर भी कुछ नहीं हो सकता।

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Her dark circles
Her lips devoid of any colour
Her face completely pale
Her body fragile and
His eyes watching her,
mesmerized....!!!
Made him the unsung hero
of the revolution of true beauty...!!!

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Bundles of sacrifices
But not a strain on his head,
That unsung hero is my dad.

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