Like the moon,
I emerged at night.
Nourished by the dark,
As flowers are by light.
For goodness,
I battled with all my might,
Yet against the Devil,
I lost the fight.




But in all probability, we all will survive, unlike the components of nature we damaged.


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In the blink of your eyes, it will vanish, the world you had built with so much love, the garbage you had strewn around with so much care will engulf you, till its hold starts to choke, just like that little bird on a barren island pecking on plastic, who suddenly found herself upside down with no life within.

The trails and tracks you left behind in the forest, blood flowing from the fresh carcass of the cheetah you shot, the sound of the bullet lulled the planet into a deafening silence.

In a moment, you find yourself locked up at home, unable to go out, unworthy of co-existence, this is your banishment and a moment of peace for the lives you wreaked throughout your existence.

Now, you realize that you wish to live, as you sit, tense, afraid and chaotic, probably like the baby elephant separated from his mother, waiting with raw fear, immobile, as its ivory tusks are taken out and it is left to die.

But in all probability, we all will survive, unlike the components of nature we damaged. And such is destiny that bad times will recede and good times will arrive, that we will once again forget this wipeout, embedded in the memories of only those who looked death in the eyes.

Brevity, Quill


Have you heard the music of the grass, the way it sways to the sweet breeze? Have you felt the wind on your face, as you stick your head out of the car window? The way the heat tingles at your feet and beams of light dance on your hands. Have you looked at the sky, the dark blue sky, endless and infinite, for hours? Have you smelt the fragrance of petunias and sweet peas in your garden and heard the buzz of the bee as it flies over your head? Have you noticed that everything seems to dance, dance to a soundless melody? There is music in the road, a music of legends and tales, of cars and scooters whizzing past, etching their stories on the surface beneath. There is a rhythm in the wind chimes and in the footsteps of wandering souls. There is a melody of nature and a medley of symphonies. There is a noise in this otherwise cocooned, silent world.

The music doesn’t play on the radio or in the phone.

But, it is out there, every second and every minute. You just have to pause, lend an ear and listen.



“By plucking her petals, you do not get gather the beauty of the flower.” Rabindranath Tagore