Enroute from Dehradun to Mumbai (India) But, indeed, the skies know no nationality.

. . . With each new breath so close you seem, My love, my master, guide you seem, But I do find myself at home, Each time I open my eyes. . . . I drink your fluids, your air I breathe, Your shining snow

The clouds are steam after all. So I steemedit. Whilst flying from Dehradun to Mumbai, India.

A Quote By a Writer

She lies cold, in my arms Mimicking the coldness within White as death, her body lies Dear Poesy, you left me already? . . . I burn those moments now The time which we had spent alone Solitude, our company,

I watch the clock go tick-tock, tick-tock, Life does tick on tick-tock, tick-tock, Death ticks nearer tick-tock, tick-tock, Organs decay tick-tock, tick-tock. . . . Done can things be, I can make my life

Each morning I wake up and think, What good would life now bring about? Each morning eyes release the blocks, What good would poetry bring about? . . . Just some fancy words of language, Just some dreamy,

However lofty may we deem our civilization to be, Nature always makes it meek.

My eyes met hers. I replaced mine with the camera. Done.

Too much of knowledge has the potential to render a human awry. Torn apart between the light and the darkness, he shines of intensity in each glance he bestows upon his fellow men. "Why not rather

Summer. Everything green had turned rustic brown. From Peb (2100ft) , Matheran Range, Western Ghats. Maharastra, India

. . The room is all this bright, Only as there is light, Or else the room is dark. . . . The world is very happy, Only as there is joy, Or else we all are grim. . . . Our minds are oh so good, Because

The azureness of the sky looks more profound when viewed through the clear air of the hills. The black land acts an important contrasting element here. This picture has been taken from Panvel, Maharastra,

Mist was all around. When it cleared, this astonishingly beautiful view revealed itself to the camera. Taken from Sunset Point, Matheran, one can see Mhasmal-Chanderi mountains to the extreme left; Nakhind

. . . O Doctor, Doctor, my daughter’s paralyzed, All at once she fell, collapsed, Evil deeds she had did none, Then, why, O Doctor, was she penalized? . . . Please come along with me, to home, She lies

In line with the Shakespearen tradition, I wrote this Sonnet 3 years back. A praise to Death. With a capital D, of course. . . . . The one above, the one beneath, you are, And forward, backwards, everywhere

This poem was penned by my 15 year old self while travelling on a train. The boy was travelling away from his near and dear relatives to pursue his mundane school life in another city. The outflow of emotions

A note on human nature: We tend to glorify the actions that give us pleasure and dump away things which keep us away from attaining pleasures. Truth. Epicurean. But the fact that the #NoFap movement

Rules: •Seven black and white images that represent an aspect of your life. •Present one image every day for seven days. •No people. •No explanation. •Nominate someone every day, but anyone can join the

Rules of the challenge: •Seven black and white images that represent an aspect of your life. •Present one image every day for seven days. •No people. •No explanation. •Use the tag - #sevendaybnwchallenge