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
A love poem
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,
Come June 25
After I go
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
Leaves have all fallen off.
Some days ago, a friend of mine who stays abroad, sent me a gift. Since he is very special to me, I was extra-eager to open the box and find out what it was.
In October 1964, Jean Paul Charles Aymard Sartre, a French philosopher and novelist, was declared winner of the Nobel Prize for literature for that year.