For every night my nostalgia kicking in,
He went through the dejavu.

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DON'T TEACH A BONG GENDER EQUALITY,
WE CALL OUR BOYS LOKKHI CHELE.

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Maharashtra becomes the only state to be dealing with two deadly pandemics this year.

First CORONA
then KANGANA 😆

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Saw faith in folded hands, open fists, bent knees.
Found it all the same in my saffron, your white and their green.

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She is cold as ice, fierce as fire. She leaves her locks undone, swaying like a cyclone depicting her wilderness. She flaunts her nakedness symbolising her detachment from every possible materialism. Her flesh painted the pitch black darkest, lips rudied with blood. She coats her skin with ashes from the burning pyre. When calm, she is the still water of the holy Ganges and the silence before the hurricane and when she walks, the earth sways. She grooms herself with those devil's limbs weaving a garland of their beheaded skulls. How she charges in fury stepping her lord under those red feet, then sticking her tongue out bringing her back from the trance. Oh how holy is the deity, the creator, the destroyer, the stillness, the ultimate chaos, She is the very pain, the legit pleasure. She has no origin nor end yet being the aadi and the ant. She is the guru of Tantra, the preacher of Mantra. She is the sanity of the Brahman, the madness of the insane. She is the Maya, the illusion that holds the world. She is the very absolute. She is the mother. She be the Kaal, she be Kaalikaa..

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THe SpeLL
The silk threads on his window shone like the mist of the dawn,
The walls spoke of his striking aloneness.
My knees shiver when the breeze blows past his hatch,
Things that he tries to keep his little shelter intact.
I have seen his eyes speak of fire one night.
While the storm rocked his bed against that wintery moonlight.
He curled up to the silk drapes with a green lamp nearby,
Weaving the pearly nets as the storm passed by.
The lights took me to his door that night.
The shack rocked before I breathed one last time.
I died a fool seeing how I took a pity for him.
A moth in love with a spider and his glistening skin.

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Our love did die, only never to rest in peace.

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The only one who gives a fuck when they ask what you had for lunch?
Your gym trainer.

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A white paper kept me from going home.




A colored paper keeps me from going home.

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This old friend waits by my bedside,
Soaking my head with tears night after night.
Now I am better and he's forgotten upright.
My handkerchief once again got out of sight.

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