Under the blazing sun, The man stands- strong hands holding on to brake, and legs tapping out a rhythm on pedals, pearls of sweat glistening down the small of a tanned back,
All these years walls of our town stood tall, home to white-winged birds, nostalgic sun, tales too deep for us to tell; last night walls came down crashing,
In the slanting columns of the morning sun on September›s grass, none came for me
When the twelve-year old Kusum was returning home, she stole a glance at the setting sun for one last time. It was dipping over the heads of tallest coconut trees lined along the furthest edge of horizon. She let out a sigh — for some indefinable reason she wanted to
“Take your belongings and head for the old dormitory. The dorm is a good one; it's located at the south-east of the college campus—
Sometime in 1797 something magical happened in English literature. Two poets, William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge by
