Thursday, April 25, 2013

in the hollow of my hands

the soulful alphabets on a sheet of paper dance to the tune of the wanderer sitting on the banks of a river overlooking the bridge and makes them fly across distant skies and into my outstretched hands. i wrap them in the hollow of my hands..

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Life of Gia

                             Life of Gia

           She knew not what she was. There were far too many shadows around her. The light inside her was a single flame flickering in the winds of change. Sometimes fiery sometimes calm...With each breath she took the flame would dance.
Shadows diverge all around. Seven suns burst them forth, multiplied manifold when reflected
 in the crystal waters of her eyes she searches frantically for the self. Where is she in the quagmire of darkness grey and black and darkest blue?
But the light around her was dazzling...So bright that she closed her eyes when she looked up questioningly at the source of that light. What am I to the one who sees the footprint on the sands of time and that walked the beach in days gone by?
She knew not what she was. A friend. A companion .A lover. Or just a face in the crowd.
Some bonds were undefined, yet chained as concrete structures by norms of life...

Sketches in literature

Sketches in literature : Shamim Hanafi writes definitive profiles of writers, evaluating their contribution