
My island of fantasy


My heart spoke a million times
I poured out in words a 1000 times
It resonated 62k times
I am glad I wrote
I am blessed you read

Thanks to each one of you ❤️🤗
Many times we yearn to win an argument. To have the last word. Sometimes it can actually be the ‘last words’.
The words may be right, the logic may be flawless, yet something precious is quietly lost in the process. With time, we realize that the strongest relationships are not built on proving ourselves right but on choosing understanding over ego, compassion over victory, and togetherness over the satisfaction of having the last word. This poem is a reflection on that quiet realization—that sometimes the greatest triumph is not winning the debate, but preserving the bond.
The ‘Me’ is never greater than ‘Us’
I hope it resonates in you…
कुछ कहते-कहते रुक गया,
आज फिर रिश्ता मुझसे जीत गया।
…
ना तुम ग़लत थे, ना मैं सही,
आज फिर ये खूबसूरत सच, मैं सीख गया।
…
वो बहस हार जाना ही सही था,
आज फिर हार के, मैं जीत गया।
…
आज तुम सबका, मुस्कुराता चेहरा देखा,
आज फिर हर मसला सुलझ गया।
…
साथ अपना, और ये पाकीज़ा सा रिश्ता
मुझसे ज़्यादा ये ज़रूरी, ये समझ गया।
…
ये गलती, मुझसे हुई थी कभी
तुमसे जीत कर, तुम को ही हार गया।

What’s a song lyric that has stuck with you forever?
ड्रॉइंग रूम में सजी हर चीज़ जो किसी कारीगर की नायाब कारीगरी थी जिसे मजबूर हो कर बेचा गया था जो कभी दुकान के कोने में धूल से लथपथ अपने गले में अपनी …
Who does it belong to (कौन है मालिक)
The question still remains…

#haiku
In the lakeLaying placidLies buriedmeanings deep Calm on the surfaceLike a pretending mirrorReflecting the fakeHiding the truth beneath the …
Stillness of the deep
it’s the stillness of the deep 🙏🏻🙏🏻
What are your future travel plans? I have been trying to reach and grasp the future Shining and enticing Steps hurrying in anticipation Just when …
Pat on shoulder from the past
it still does
Is it the rain
that trickles down my cheek?
Are the clouds
Dark in the sky too?
Accumulated rain
create an amoebic puddle
And the ripples
Pulsate like a heartbeat
It’s alive
It reflects
Sometimes the real
Sometimes the distorted
It’s just the ripple
Like a gruesome thought
That changes
My face in the puddle
I think I will wait
Till the ripples die down
For then I will see
The placid sky
And the seven faced rainbow

A wet street of Cochin