The possibilities of the livings drives them forward. With all the heart wrenching predicaments of life, they still breath, they still live it to the fullest…

Only in the glimmer of hopes…..the sparkles of probabilities….the happy ones, the fulfilling ones…All the hardships seems dwarf when the canvas of life projects beautiful prospects of future…

Especially to the ones which struggle to get mouthful of food….the shattered huts and the smelling arenas tell their stories of wrenched life….Still the poor lives…the eyes search for just one flicker of hope….flames of possibilities..

Here’s a piece to magnify this feeling….


Perhaps the armour of the poor
is just a myth…
Endless sufferings
Deep scratches on the soul,
Yes indeed, it’s a rippling lie…
The flashy cards flared up
and the hollow promises,
The deprived eyes
and the questioning faces,
The sunken cheeks
which not blushes pink,
The chapped lips,
Far from being scarlet.
The lost smiles
and the tarnished thoughts,
No cloudy dreams,
In vicious cycle, they’re caught..
Necessities turned into needs
Chirpings into wails,
Knowledge means nothing
And Oh! The ship that never sails..
Or indeed, if I say,
The dreams of newborn,
In these shattered walls,
would end up in dismay…

New Arrivals


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