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Soon, it will get dusted. Though I am good at housekeeping, I wonder how many things I can keep up wrapped when I cannot use them. Time is a stalemate, adding to each day a new challenge. Bereft of earning accolades but where are the spaces where you can preserve a history and what for when today avenues are opening up and options are unlimited to compensate for anything. Anything: literature, music, sports, entertainment, governance, education, health, lifestyle, et al. Is there a value of life or respect for a soul which hopefully cannot be created by anyone till now and is also not scarce.

on a way
to my de-stress hub how far
the paw prints



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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.

A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine