She is not perfect —
her beauty lies in her imperfection.

A land of many languages and religions
Diverse landscapes —
From snow-capped mountains to deserts.

A land of vibrant cultures and festivals,
where every part of the country is unique.

Her strength lies in her diversity,
but under the national flag
we stand united.

Jai Hind 🇮🇳

Poetry and love

both came uninvited.

Poetry stayed,

love went away .

Outside your world

I stay —

not wishing, not waiting,

and no, not stalking,

only gazing from afar

like I gaze at the stars

and the Moon.

Poetry was an accident in my life.
I wasn’t looking
for this way to express myself.

I admit I like it.
I don’t write every day—
only when I’m truly inspired.
I should write more often;
it’s good for me.

It’s just hard…
Sometimes living passively
feels more pleasurable
than actually doing something with life.

When I write,
I want to be honest.
I want people to feel uncomfortable
when they read my words—
because reading all this
is too much.

Because standing so close
to someone else’s vulnerability
feels strange.

I want to be sincere
in every, every
single word,
because I feel I’m too big
for anyone to hold.
I can’t even hold myself.

And I want, in the future,
to read my own words
and feel uncomfortable
with myself—
because by then,
I’ll be someone new.

The poet is an architect
he constructs sentences.

The poet is a cook
he mixes words.

The poet is a philosopher
he reflects on what he writes.

The poet is a student
he learns words.

But above all.

The poet has no definition
he defines himself.