Grandma’s violin was Neena’s unwanted alarm clock–but sometimes, tunes needn’t be perfect for us to grasp its meaning,
Collection of poems about my daughter, who gave me so much as a kid. About the worlds she created and the nostalgic experience which I cannot re-visit.
Mayan played the violin deep into the night, tunes of love and of spring and the rains, while she sang in the unknown tongue Mayan could not understand and yet feel deeply in his heart.
The second one’s completely look like Prathiroop. Each of them standing on each side of road, Prathiroop’s on left the second one’s on right.
This poem is on how music can make us crazy and enjoy life, and how different instruments have different effects.Its the music that make us forget things,
‘I can’t stand to see you underestimate yourself, Din. Others make music. You make Magic. Why aren’t you giving yourself enough credit for that?’
The set standard protocol goes thus, get up early in the morning, take a refreshing shower, perform the morning rituals and chant the Gayathri mantra. It is said to open your third eye
He used to look at everybody who comes down.There was a ray of hope in his eyes.The wait was evident in his glance. But I never cared enough to stand back and survey
Today I was very hurt not because I was rejected once again in my life but because the special moment of my best buddy got ruined because of me
One evening I picked one of those casually and could not put it down. Soon I had flipped through several soul searching books and had consumed lot of knowledge