A tinch of positivity boasts you with boom of tranquility

Failures Are Not The End Of The World

The seed you have sown, won’t go in vain

You’ll be reaped for you pain

Get up and move on

The door is waiting! Go, knock on

Pay all your heed

To fetch the grail, to get succeeded

Spot the never tiring spirit of the bird

As failures are not the end of the world

For all those who disgraced you

Shrug them off and continue

The exploration of the avenue

You’ll see the change

And you’ll surely sustain the chain

Step on the stairs of heights

Taking you at par

Be vigilant for it may give your sacrs

Don’t lose hope

Scale up, not down the slope

Remember,

To spot the never tiring spirit of the bird

As failures are not the end of the world.

Not a King!

There he came, riding the horse
To save his princess from the evil dominants
Wearing a Scarlet vasket and
A glazing sword in his hand.

His heart broke when he saw her scars. He asked, “Who was that brutal being?”
“Tell me, I won’t let him live anymore.”
Sobbing replied the queen, “He was the demon from the shore.”
The king’s promising looks healed her
And soon you forgot the things we had to suffer.

The time of joy had come
A young princess had taken birth
But the family proclaimed
She wasn’t worth.
The King labbed his princess and fought
Not for his queen this time, but
For his princesss
Because she only had a father
Who could love her!

From an Indian, a feather step!

I was once returning to home after taking my classes with one of my friends. Just on the way I saw a gleaming lady throwing a plastic limca bottle out of the window of her car. I don’t know what grew my mind that day but I picked up the bottle and put it inside the side pocket of my bag without expecting any realization from the lady. But to my surprise she came after me and asked me to return that bottle and guess what were her words, “Give it to me, I will throw it in the dustbin.” I didn’t felt distressed that day, I felt as a patriotic individual who just put a little effort and might changed a mind. Also it was the effort of the lady that always inpired me to do things that would make India my home.

People generally ask me what is the India of your dreams. Or how do you want to see India, developed with the highest levels of infrastructure or with the crime rate of 0, want to see India with highest GDP or the highest Literacy Rate. But today I want to counter question them, “What did you do to make a better India?
Did you put the effort to make this place a better home for your children.”
I know its easy to say things like this, but a small, little effort of yours is going to add up to the making of India of your dreams.

A Creative Paragraph

I read a paragraph from Steinback’s The Pearl. The way he decribed a town and linked it to an animal was immensely creative extending the primary analogy. The first element is imagination. So here is my example of a creative paragraph.

A pebble on the raod is like a wall on the flower in a party. A wall flower scents the air. Air can also be scented by perfumes. This is how the flower loses importance. It glooms. But the Moon makes it blossom. The moon also went through hard nights. The hard nights gave him the grey spots. Pebbles also develop grey spots because they got punts as they get unnoticed!

Celebrate Smalls

Held High

For the things you ache for, you have to bear the pain done by them during the path. For a thing to be achieved either a goal or prey, one has to have the courage to stand out of the ordinary and change… for good for better. You need to exercise your thoughts tactfully just like the kite which is tangled between the fingers is held high flouting the competence.
I remember a famous quote by Tim Notke, ” Hard work beats talent when talent does not work hard.”
This is fairly true because if you dont grate yourself into a startling art of sculpture you would end up making yourself an unrecognizable piece of continuous hardships.

“how to heal”: A Poem

From Rarasaur: “Pack your cells with joy until it is what they know best, and what they trust most.”

“how to heal”: A Poem

The Top 5 Longreads of the Week

This week, we’re sharing stories from Tana Ganeva, Garrett M. Graff, Janelle Monáe, Ellen Cushing, and Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder.

The Top 5 Longreads of the Week

As Bharat Mata Speaks

With a Chakra in her hands

And a Trishul lay by

This my Bharat Mata

Guarded by Tiger’s fangs.

As Bharat Mata speaks

Gazing at the past

Recalls herself as she stands

At the end of uproars’ streak.

Saffron in my blood

White in my thoughts

Green in my actions

And in my dreams blooms a Lotus bud.

The sepoys who freed me

From the fetters of dementors

Oh! My prayers are bedecked with pride

For the ones who freed me.

Crimean Wars, Blue Rebellion

Kanpur Massacre, Lucknow Siege

Endless were the efforts of my children

That helped me escape that dungeon.

No more I have to strive

In the dark, storming clouds

My people gave me wings

Oh! I am ready to thrive.

My head, held high

My voice, heard

My walk, blazes

In the endless free sky.

Crowning in the north

Is the Treasure of Great Snow

Dravidian brooks, Kaveri

And Narmada without a sole dearth.

It’s 73 years, we fly kites

With our bosoms swelled

With Pride, Valour, Bravery

She is transitioning to fathomless heights.

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter.

— Izaak Walton