Sing O’ Muses… 

So began the epic, that is considered the standard for evaluating every other epic written. And today, I call upon them as I begin my blog, with the hope that perhaps one day my works would be considered not one whit inferior to that of Homer. 

Poems, stories, essays, articles. Essentially, anything and everything presentable that my mind creates will find a place here. From the most inane to fundamental questions of philosophy, I hope everyone would enjoy reading them as much as I would enjoy writing them. 



Going Home

Following the deep-rutted tracks,
My cart glides along the grassy vale,
A long, long time has passed,
Today I am going back home.

The bumps in the road, feel like
My old mother’s gentle pats,
The roads seems to stretch forever,
But today, I am going back home.

The horse neighs a tired whine,
Hours have passed, since we set out.
The earthen stove belches smoke,
And today I am going back home.

The scatterd calves frolick amongst the grass,
Running wild as the herd moves with me.
The herders wipe their faces,
For today I am going back home.

The sun bleeds red into the sky,
Painting the world the hue of vermilion,
The beautiful adornment of dearest mine.
Today I am going back home.

I have seen palaces of gold and jade,
Glass towers and spires of gleaming steel.
Yet the house of mud is most beautiful.
And today, I return to my home.


The dark night woven into braids,
Over the scarlet of the morning sun,
Tinting a unblemished moon on full.
All these and a thousand words,
Are not enough, to tell what my eyes see.

My reason, doctor of my heart,
Has declared me dead to its words.
And though your gifts, those flames of agony,
Keep a jealous hold of my heart,
The soul immortal, the faithless beast,
Knows you, as my only repose.


I am the mass,
On whose back were built the Pyramids,
The Cathedrals, Temples and Mosques,
The architect of towers, palaces and forts.

The unending multitude,
Who raised Zeus, Yahweh and Indra to throne,
Who gave birth to leaders, to preachers,
To the Greats, the mighty figures of yore.

The uncountable subjects,
Who founded all coutries, continents and civilizations,
The world Empires, the ancient Kingdoms,
The foundation of Britain and of Imperial Rome.

The endless audience,
Who brought forth the epics, the classics,
The symphonies, the plays and the movies,
The creator of magna opera, and immemorial works

I eschew fame,
All individual glory,
I am the mass,
The tide in the sea of humanity.

Paean of Love

Perhaps, one day, I will learn to breathe again.

The fires of life, in my heart, will seethe again.


Those jagged blades of cruel love, lodged in me,

Perhaps, one day, time will sheathe again.


The bouquets of roses, red as blood, have wilted.

Perhaps, a fresh garland, my hands will wreath again.


Dark clouds cover the sky, pale snow paints the world.

Perhaps, the seeds of frozen emotions, will conquer death again.


Sparkling diamonds, scintillating rubies adorn my cheeks.

Perhaps, one day, these treasures a hapless lover will bequeath again.


The sickles of North wind have reaped their harvest.

Perhaps, the light of my soul will bloom like heath again.


No minstrel, no bard would let my name fade into oblivion.

The lovers of old, the heroes so bold, would never hold me beneath again.

Girls: Now Cremated Alive

A post addressing the need of the hour in India and many other parts of the world. Kudos to the author for presenting it in a powerful manner.


“8 year old brutally gangraped by two men in Mandsaur who mercilessly inserted rod into her female parts and gave her life threatening injuries” – June 26, 2018.

“4 year old raped in Raisen district on the pretext of Kanya Bhoj” – July 7,2018.

“14 year old gangraped in Khajuraho, 3 minors booked for trial”- July 8,2018.

“24 year old arrested for raping his own cousin in Sagar” – July 9,2018.

“16 year old gangraped in Chattarpur” – July 10, 2018.
From raping a foreign tourist to raping a four-year-old minor, Indian men have concluded that what they have in them is just lust for devouring a female body.
Surprisingly, rapists are no more just the grown up men but they are merely boys aged between 15 to 18 years. This clearly shows…

View original post 352 more words