Free spirits: I like one.

The heart was not a slave, mind was not a master;

Fuel of her own heart, she was the ardent fire.

Nether to nothing, radical to everything;

Not a frigid rather a fervent, she was a rampant.

Chauvinist of her dreams, fanatic for her passion;

Sill a native, no more pandemic and now an endemic.

Corrupt she was in every eye. People spread a quietude.

As if she cared?

Kick of her passion,

Stirred her up!

Whipped her up!

Society was a no stall,

No wonder!

She was an extremist; Biased towards her life.

Had she shoved over their notions,

Then she had been a death, to her own passion.

She didn’t stumble over a society boulder,

Agitation was such.

Yes! Free spirit, she was.

And, I like one.



“Life is an ever flowing stream whose each and every current is loaded with an action.”

WordPress anniversary


“I’m doing it now. The thing I should have done 10 years ago, but I’m happy. At least I didn’t delay in by 20 years.”


On occasion of the 1st anniversary of my blogging with Word Press and the Valentine’s day,  I am glad to thank all those who have been the part of my blogging journey, for, this is the best thing that happened to me in 2018. Thank you everyone out there!

Wishing you all a very happy Year ahead!

Concert Hall…

Live Out Crazy

Concert hall is not only the one with Taylor Swift’s voice echoing or Papa Mania band covering the stage but..
But might be the one where she is crying in dense darkness with foggy-diminished shadows of all those who once visited her life out of excitement(in not ok sense) and left out of amusement.
She’s wonderstruck if the amusement is within herself or the surroundings or the environment she is raised in..
Those teary eyes,dull-dumb minds,innocent hearts ♥ and the wobbly soul still questing for someone lost in woods tagged LIFE.
Because its my concert hall…

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I started gazing.

Saffron they were,

A shining silver outline giving them the

Shape of a cloud,

Half the sky had a golden rush,


And the half, the clouds filled with dirt,

Black, dark;

Charisma and a beautiful contrast of

The gold and the black,

The divine and the humane,

The holy and the filthy,

The pure and the polluted;

It’s half past seven now,


Golden ‘seems’ to leave,

Leave, or stay there forever?

While gray is to take over,

And once again, the human eyes stumble

Over some ‘developed theories’.

Dusty clouds seem embedded with some sparkle;

Stardust it is,



Soon the beauty of the night will conceal the

Dust somewhere in its vicinity,

Where no one finds it;

And Azul will once again be the winner,

Blue will be spilled the tomorrow morning,

As always.

Well, for now,

Night ‘seems’ to have won,

Golden ‘seems’ to have left,

Just the way everyone who once came,

Have, by now, left;

Left, if they ever came,

Left I am,

Still gazing;