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Saturday, 29 March 2014

The Last Note

I knew her
Since the childhood of mountains.

Then one day
She left in a hurry
And a note for me:

Love is a crude business more clich├ęd than Life itself. It demands wretchedness. It smuggles tragic denouements across bodies. Otherwise it fails to be Love. Someone had to take charge. Someone had to do something.
I am beyond mountains now.
Find me.

Tuesday, 25 March 2014


Since you came
Like an unclassified beauty
The seasons of my heart
Lost their genres.

Our Love
May not be an example of Love altogether.
It instead is
A commentary on love itself
Fraught with footnotes of factual happiness.