Tippling down from the eaves, like a wine glass overflowing its rim; it undulates.   At times trailing a path from the roof, At others cascading down wilfully; It surges.   The sodden dusk bemoans, decries Separation from its lover, the sun; It pelts.   Sometimes it beats a staccato …

You entreat with a gentle swoosh, your charms beckon As you blow through harried lands, parched for your love Swishing through the trees you playfully swirl up leaves. They rise up; they dance around, like marionettes in act.   O wily wind you blow through my parched land and life …

Bijju was not an imposing figure in stature but he had a fearsome reputation.  He was a cutthroat businessman and ran a tight business. His employees feared him. Rumour had it that he had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks in penury. What he could not have as a child, he had vowed to provide for his own progeny. Thus, he had embarked on a career in construction. He had started working odd jobs in the jungle and learnt on the job. His work had been good, his eagerness to please even more so.  Through sheer hard work he had built up a small yet respectable business, the same one that he now so shrewdly ran.

And then one day the sun bled, hot tears like lava And the sunshine cried for her father, her mentor Tormented, they both looked upon beloved Earth She was dying, slowly, painfully.   Recoiling as if stung, he balked at her desecration He bemoaned her barren lands, her trickling rivers …

I emerge from the shadows of the past that have railed against my fates I shrug off old memories, I cast aside doubt, walk out of depressed gates. I peer, I look ahead to the future; confidently it meets my tentative smile It extends a kind hand, emboldens my resolve …

Perched delicately atop a sun kissed petal In a garden blooming to serenade spring She sits daintily sipping on the sweet nectar.   Wings a cornucopia of colors that herald Jubilance, portend hope and endurance, In her bucolic charms she vies with the florets.   Shielding the blooms from the …

Into the valley descends a pathway, ornately balustraded with trees. It weaves a track between a lush tapestry of wooded foothills. Sequestered here in this valley a creek tinkles a rhapsody of tunes. It lies amid a sunlit patchwork of pastoral lands that have withstood time. Under the canopy of …

Drenched in a spun golden hue Resting on the viridescent jade canopy Embodying a beauteous visage in bloom A golden shower tree stands tall My heart rejoices at its sight  

Does she peek in or does she peek out? Is she a butterfly or a dreaming moth? Will she spread her wings, flutter away? Or will she sit, with the silence sway? Like a demure maiden, will she acquiesce? Or like one emboldened, will she egress? What’ll be her decision, …

  The incessant running, the travel, the waiting in lounges, Reek of a life that is always racing to someone else’s beat. Hard as we try, the running does not stop, we do not halt; In the melee to beat time, we run, unending in a loop.   But should …