What life awaits the poet dreamer, if change grew within, not lacking? How would I have turned out, if elders stuck not to times older?...

Written by Anugrah and Deekshitha The yellow tree in front of darshini was my only source of happiness. It sang with the noise of crowds...

This is a reflective piece I wrote on April 26, 2024 as part of a creative writing course. This piece connects a lot of my works...

It is a cold wind gushing past rays of warm sunshine,                  Bunch of men driving broken bikes down ragged paths.        Trees...

Where the trees tell, they tell stories. Of people dead silent. Where the roads, they curve through and around hills. Where the children,...