For the Soul; Ears are dumb,Eyes are blind,Mind is a juggler.

Mr. Rip Wan winkle, be a star that twinkle.

Her tears still lay, unattended, on my bosom…I wouldn’t wipe them, for she might stop paying me visits.

Two conclusions follow, die a death, live a death.

It doesn’t require jargon to describe the soul.

For, if after fifty you don’t live the aspirations of the young, go away. Who needs needs spectacled snails, salivating on the Soma of youth.

Indeed you have what it takes to care like a mare, but can misters br one?

Some day, Some wish…

Jai Shiv shambu, shiv shankar, Jai Bhole..

Who was it who said something about the Indians being argumentative, good soul, let him come to Haridwar and meet this bunch. Good for him too, if he adapts with age; for if after fifty...

All writers pen sad stories to garner sympathy, writing is after all for the abandoned of the society: the ink-leech, spewing black blood and sucking innocent souls.

Immortality, thou art a chimerical bridesmaid of life.

All girls are like fishes needing feeding and a net. Trap them lest you are trapped.

People who are left alone tell the story but are never a part of it; those who are a part of the crowd, are story bound, acting upon the role assigned to them in the...

It is important how people take you.

Annant is Pickwick paperless, the hunter of wisdom and due to Lovelace heart, a budding poet-ass.

An array of colorful camps dotted the river banks, like a garrison of army on a peace keeping mission. A mini India, many great nations. different people living in the same place, an inversion of...

One needs longing to live and enemies make one long for them.

At thirty either you are perfect or nothing.

Only women understand the sensitivity of the soul, men are ambitious and ruthless.

For a girl there is a shorter version of youth.

Religion is a good time pass, better than philosophy, and a million times better than love; love is a wastage of an era.

She was finally owned up- it took death as a price for her being accepted.

His failure became my destiny

In her spare time she scribbled her thoughts, wishes and dreams, life and times. It kept her sane despite her loneliness.

Sameness of existence. Conformity is inevitable. So is search.

I was sent to a school with bosses for teachers- no Twain, only cane; check your dick you harry, no Dickens either, No Tom Sawyers no David Copperfields only Webster, master it for grammar, the...

The words explain us all, each having a meaning in a meantime: every time for a lifetime.

live a death, die a death

I thought of her as she, and she as her.

It is better to die than carry the burden of expectations, you die every moment then, bearing situations you are not supposed to put up with.

Between us what it was? i couldn’t fathom, till she was gone.

The gods are real crazy when it comes to prayers. They listen to some sometimes and do not listen to some sometimes. But the whole world prays, nonetheless-All the time

All beautiful women lead a gearless life and die horribly. Like the queen- Marilyn Monroe.

The Only mattered to him.Iconoclasm.

History tells creativity is a result of Soul song.

What can a fallen star wish for, but it fulfills other’s wishes, is it not?

He didn’t ask because he didn’t wanted to know. If you know, moments die an instant death. She held his hand in hers; hiding them like a pearl; her coral eyes ensconcing his pain.

Why love has to intense? Women’s love isn’t. It is a male contribution to a relationship. What does a woman contribute? Children continuity- intentional immortality.

Comparisons are inevitable, her face resembles her, he is like him and this old man is like that old man. This is taking things too far.All old men and women are alike. Ageing makes no...

When the wound is fresh it hurts, more so when you are reminded to the hurt time and again

Karma has to be done, there is o way of escaping the world once one is in it.

Legacy proves ones mettle and one’s karma.

That is what the opposites do, cross the swords invariably and unknowingly.

Karma has to be done, to the last moment, there is no way of escaping the world once one is in it.

Freedom is inevitable; it is only the matter of the form in which it occurs. I think it is not the freedom per se that matters but the capacity to absorb it. I could have...

I was grown up long before the grown ups were the grown ups.

The senses assimilate the world, the maya of God.

She liked the idea of a place belonging to the cows, no ownership of human ego.

What do you know of her or of deaths and dreams?