despite walls and streets
traumatised by unholy smoke and sleaze
despite hooting of vehicles in premoghul state
dust pumped into lungs of maidan every second
roses red bloom...
somewhere...
unnoticed perhaps...
lost in the hurly burly of business district
and trade calls of brokers on the floor...
roses bloom somewhere
unnoticed behind the closed door
uncherished...
never looked with proper admiration...
despite the graffiti filling minds
political slogans replacing words
you or us...
me or you...
they or we...
despite discrmination of every kind...
roses bloom...
somewhere.
Friday, January 18, 2013
roses are forever...
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The State Funeral
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What had made Brahm to compose Such a tune, with such poise? What comforting idea made him To put music into such a rhythm? What inexpre...
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