Prose, Passion and Ponderings.

Conversations were so soothing and so easy with you, even the arguments were sheer delight. But then you passed silence into the late night cold breeze and I would answer it with a perfect brown lipstick stain on the white cold breeze. An untrammelled silence amplified like the storm between our telephonic gazes.     Conversations with you were solace.    Conversations with you were antidote.      Conversations were so easy with you but the past tense of words, stabs my heart, bite my soul like that of a scorpion and stitches my tongue.  Distances between us are unfathomable. We were always distanced by miles but the telephonic meetings kept us united.  Alas! It doesn't exist anymore. The same distance and silence has turned into torment over time, now they lacerate my heart in a numb hum. Silence echoes in my mind in the cold moonlight night and I interlace the moonlight gleam into silent unsend messages for you.  How c...

As politics takes twist and turn, turning left or right across the globe, the idea of Nationalism remains an issue of debate, especially in a multicultural country like India, a country where racial and religious infighting is rooted. The idea of Nation and Nationalism has always remained a controversial one. It has been critiqued by several theories and political thinkers. Nation means the native land inhabited by the people of native race, practicing the native culture(religion). Nationalism is identification with one's own nation and support for its interests, especially to the exclusion or detriment of the interests of other nations. For the polymath Rabindranath Tagore, both the idea of nation and nationalism was unacceptable. He denounced them and launched his revolt against these institutions in his works. For Tagore these institutions shatter humanity and are selfish and downgraded. When India was struggling to achieve her freedom from the colonizers...

He had a pretty dark cuckoo, He tended her after long long while, He kept her in a cage of feelings but never locked the door.  She knew the door was always open but she chose not to emigrate. She spent her days in confine,  She sang the song of all kind, She didn't sing for all, She held a privilege reserved not for all, She wanted him to listen to her not all the time but once in a while, He did not have an ear for hers. She sat in agony and gradually her melody diminished. The romanticism of hers turned into cynicism. He loved but lacked expression, She understood but was tired of getting pacified on her own. She was uncertain of his fascination, She feared the white pigeon, His allurment towards anything which was not her, haunted her.  She found herself in utter dismay. Once distressed and contemplating upon his careless love, She got perturbed and fled out of the cage, He let her flee  saying "If ...