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You and I

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Img Src - Pintrest  The clouds grey sing the ballads of love, And I immerse into the topography of your pretty face, The path that remains shallow, yet somewhere it’s deep, The Mariana Trench must be your heart— So hard, so hard to reach. The curves of your eyes and the jaw-dropping jawline, Where my eyes slide, skiing, The delicate smile that reminds me Of the touch of a feather. And then I swing towards the helix Of your ears— That seems strangely beautiful. The urge to caress your hair, Even when everyone is there, As if I own a piece of your heart. No lie shall I utter— My eyes drew toward you from the start, Even before any words were exchanged. As you speak with fascination to your own stories, The dilemma strikes: Which star shall I focus on? The eyes, the cheek, the forehead, The voice, the vein, the hair? Yet I love the art and the artist, And admire you with that Blushy face. Hours passed just like that, As if I were the passenger And you, the...

The last time...

I remember the last time I saw you, without knowing it would be the last time I was seeing you. Maybe it was for the good—because even the knowledge of it would have brought pain. Perhaps ignorance was a kind of bliss. But the cost was broken trust, and the loss of a piece of heart and empathy. And the lesson remains the same: expectations, in whatever form they come, are dangerous.

Beauty

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Beauty, is there another word bringing such chaos and comfort? Kingdoms have collapsed, Wonders were built, for just one glimpse of beauty— yet what beauty is, remains undefined. For some, it is white skin with cars, For some, it’s kindness, even with scars. Green, blue, brown eyes, stars, moon, and the skies, smiles, laughs, and everything fine— but everything turns beautiful when the heart whispers, “it’s mine.” For when it is ours, and the strings are tied heart to heart, ehh, nothing matters if it’s white, brown, or black, if it’s scars, smiles, or cries. For who we love seems beautiful in every way, every hour— they look pretty beautiful even when they’re sour. The weights and measures lose all weight, they appear divine even when they’re not that great. Beauty counts, but beauty refuses to be defined. For what is copper for you feels like gold to some. You may cry, imposing your beauty standards, but truth will someday come— it will hug you and bless you with its magic. For conne...

और कितनी निर्भया?

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  एक सपना है , एक आस है , हर रोज़ जीवित रह पाने का ये राज़ है। क्योंकि रूह तो उस रात ही सहम गई थी , उनकी आँखों में थोड़ी भी रहम नहीं थी। वो रोई , भारत भी रोया था , उसकी साँसें थम जाने पर सारा ब्रह्मांड शोकाकुल हो गया था। निर्भया की चीख और आँसू आज भी हर माँ का बुरा सपना है , पर सच्चाई तो ये है निर्भया एक नहीं , अनेक है , डर लगता है , समझ नहीं कौन बस एक मुखौटा और कौन सच में अपना है ? भारत की जान है दिल्ली , भारत की पहचान है दिल्ली , पर क्या दिल्ली का सर्वोच्च न्यायालय एक मौन श्मशान है ? जहाँ मासूमों की चीखें , उनकी पुकार बस दफ़्न हो जाती हैं , उनको सुनता कोई नहीं , वो माँ का हाल पूछता है कौन , जो न जाने कितने सालों से सोई नहीं। क्या समझते है वो अपनों को खोने का दुख ? वो हर एक माँ का दुख , जो न्याय के लिए तरसती है , और उस हर एक माँ का जिनकी जान अब भी उनकी बेटी में बसती है। और हम बेटियों की क्या बात करें , हम बेटि...

Demolishing Narrow Walls

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  No nation can become great with narrow thinking patterns that marginalize a particular section of society on the basis of religion or caste. Enough examples, including that of our neighboring country, stand as proof of what happens when people blindly make religion their whole and soul and begin to differentiate among their own countrymen. Unity — not just within one religion, but among all citizens — is essential for our country to grow. Developed nations, if not for their secularism, would have remained entangled within the narrow walls of caste and religion. Our country must use its energy productively — something politicians often do not want — because when Indians start voting on the basis of real issues, many leaders will have no decent record to show. Thus, asking for votes in the name of Mandir, Masjid, and Reservation becomes an easy win. Only fact-based awareness can demolish such filthy politics and bring true development. Half-read articles, propagandist news chann...
Comfort zone and success never coexist — you have to leave one to reach the other. And, Victory always favours the brave, and the brave ones will claim it!