Jai Shiv shambu, shiv shankar, Jai Bhole..

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…

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.

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?

Life cannot be lived without irritations and angers; fights and placation-A cycle of Karma, wheels of succor.

Hume hummed in his head. Reason versus passion- David versus Goliath. Let the Goliath win for one last time. But the world is full of the Davids, the begging bastards, passing of their defeat as...

People forget history nowadays, he lamented, that is what the ego does, making one the prisoner of one’s inflated present, ignoring the humble past one has lived.

Why can’t one live a life of disappearing?An invisible man- the real superman.

An orchestra of temple bells and chanting erupted suddenly like a pleasing drizzle.

All mothers are rivers and all rivers, mothers.

Ah! the joys of linger…

On hindsight every failure is the best medicine, bitter but effective

Why one enjoys maternal grandparents more than the paternal ones, i have never understood, but it was like that for me.

The spirit never leaves, never goes away.

People forget history nowadays,that is what the ego does, making one the prisoner of one’s inflated present, ignoring the humble past one had lived.

Grey is the shade of life, like shadows.

While in England write or get wrought rotten rusted.

He is too presumptuous about the inanities of appearances, poor realities gone for a toss.

But you raised a ruckus about and threatened to perform a Julius Caesarian on anybody on anybody who calls April the cruelest month- I was Damn born out of the loins of my father in...

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.