Have you ever reached out
from your cinders
and been cast down to ashes?
Have you ever
churned dreams out of illusion
and known they were about falling
into another set of delusion?
To rise like this,
to be resurrected
as ashes are flung to the winds
in Chaitra.
Choose another season, please.
Let the ashes remain trampled
under the Baisakh sun
or wash it down with monsoon water.
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on what life meant to make out of faith
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Mamu touched my hair the other day and said: This is not the hair of the girl I birthed. What did you do to your hair? I touched my hair, im... -
i cannot imagine how you put up with a man who drags you by your nape and tells you to go to your room and puts you out in the night. it...
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