Art And Culture

Children cry aloud   When born to a new world From the comforts Of a shore that is serene A wall

The Himalayas are a range of speculations, The mountain which is formed millions of years ago, The great collision of continents

Surviving a storm is easy, Storms forge not a filler of conceits It is natural, it’s roar artless, Yet like

It was on the brink of a season that had been exhausted by decades in the clutches of time. There

There hides one earth in our heart A garden of blossoming flowers A Season of spring and a summer Of

You asked me for a wet evening. I came to you as rain. If you want a bunch of sunshine,

…….. A Short Story “Ma, today our teacher told us that God is everywhere …is it true? Then why can’t

Listlessly moving whispering clouds Conversing with her in solitude, aloud… Sans words or syntax of language… Like an opened bottle

There seems to be a change in the weather,It’s the movement of the wind that I hear,The flowers are abloom

Tears are not mere droplets but a rivulet, flowing from the broken chambers of a heart that has failed to