New York. One of the cities I love. A city with a history and characters. A melting pot of time and cultures. This is the place for the novel ‘The Great Gatsby’ written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. When a great story is wrapped around that place, and the time, almost…

Sarah Polyakov is an artist and a poet. She can bring visual and verbal impact to her audience. She left some space for me, but before we go there, let us look at her post. 🪩What actionable characteristics can we learn from dancers? 👉Dancers can literally pivot on a dime…

Fine, I will not turn the page. Because…I can’t. So… Poem: CAN’T TURN THIS PAGE I can’t turn this page, I try but I stop For I still see you in those words aghast That moment is frozen in forever eternity The present would never become the past If I turn the page I fear…

I aspired to embody Dostoevsky’s essence. I yearned to encapsulate Tolstoy’s spirit. I aspired to reflect Tagore’s brilliance. Perhaps, someday, I might. However, what about the realm of contemporary poetry? I’ve been captivated by the profoundness of words, capable of flowing while maintaining a serene stillness — akin to both…

I want to fly away, my friend. I don’t want to look back. Just like the dandelions. The plant is a weed, which I want to part with. That is my past, my time with you. Yet… Yet, I am here. Poem: FLYING AWAY I tried to fly away Just away, somehow From this time…

It was one of those broody, poignant evenings when I boarded a train from Bengaluru to Chennai. The day was a washout, but I wished I could have done something I love — writing or reading. But as the station appeared before me, I started one of my poetic rants…

In this fast-changing world where women stride confidently, there is a group of men who suddenly derail and become alone. They are either prone to violence or suffer in silence. The mainstream society does not see them as fitting, but as lone misfit creeps. A small poem to start the…

For the first time, I wrote a piece of classical poetry. It was inspired by a quick reading and review of two poems by William Wordsworth, that I worked for Sakshi Arora. She wanted an elaborate essay, but the time was short for me to write in detail. Here is…

Priya Patel’s fascination with Prashant Verma’s photography caught on to me. The poem, in essence, is our first soiree into the autumn ( summer is over, even in Chennai. The beauty of this photograph. The precise placement, right corner, and the shadow of the red tip. I could write something…