On dry days, the streets feel slightly quieter,Not silent—just thoughtful,As if the city has paused to listen to itself.Shops glow
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On dry days, the streets feel slightly quieter,Not silent—just thoughtful,As if the city has paused to listen to itself.Shops glow
Basant Panchami arrives softly,not as a celebration that demands attention,but as a feeling that slowly settles in.The morning light turns
In the heart of fields where sunlight gleams,Stands a tamarind tree, lost in dreams.Its canopy wide, a shady dome,A haven
In gardens where the morning glows,Blooms soft and red—the royal rose.With petals kissed by dawn’s first light,She opens slow, a
Ganesha Within Us Not only in idols carved from clay,Not only in songs we sing in May,You live in the
On the dawn of fifteenth fair,India rose with a silent prayer.Chains once heavy, broken wide,A billion dreams no more denied.
It started with a whisper low,A sky in gray, a softened glow.The breeze turned cool, the trees stood still,As if
Above the cliffs where eagles soar,The sky lets go—then something more.A stream, once still in mountain’s palm,Now rushes down without