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"varanasi" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Bucket List? -- Not Me!
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
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38
Ganges, dawn, a luminous haze over the water. The bathing ghats are busy with the faithful. (But India is inconceivable without faith.)   The robed bathers, raising river water to the sun, pouring it back to mother Ganges, are they worshipping the sun or the river? For them God is everywhere and everything.  Water, sun, the river and the twinkling lamps floating on it are part of one consciousness. The burning ghats too (such quantities of wood stacked ready) are beginning their day. The funeral party approaching in respectful haste have a job to do. They build their pile, move the body to the wood, start the fire. I watch, but not for long. This moment, so intimate, so public, reminds me I am an intruder here. The ashes will return to Ganga unwitnessed by me. Away from the river, the vendors of tea do their trade among the stalls. Monkeys, cheerfully pilfering, are chased away half-heartedly, for they are Hanuman’s representatives, and they, with the sacred, garbage-clearing cows, are part of the one consciousness. In this land all are “the faithful”, everything is God’s creation. In this poverty is richness.
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
Varanasi *
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/ the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds are playing their melodies in my head still, three years post-Indonesia.         All of my soul to India now,         sky the pink of painted elephants         on Jaipur dawning,         my afterlife was somewhere here         perhaps two generations ago, chances are.                Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha                playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the                Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring                hands held together keeping calm pace.                Looking about, my twenty-two year old face catches humid wind S I L V E R S H O P tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance      PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/      COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/      MEDITATING SHIVA/ dulled from years and corrosion. Brahmin center of the market street flapping it's tail, sweat beads from my forehead bleeding to oily pavement. At last the months have come for the river Ganges, April penumbra/savage thunderclap while school children uplifting the heart                  AND MIND are ROARING in their laughter the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY sleeping with their eyes open while others are too tired for the Earth. Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during the black hour cremations/ “Bechet Creole Blues” CATERWAUL IN THAT              VOID THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/ LUNACY OF LIFE                      (I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads                                                         of both) searing flesh in open air pyramids/ Manikarnika Ghat, Asia  F           L          O          W           S through dreams like inevitable prophecy and as ash blends with stars the CITY seems fulfilled and mystifying in it's                       (((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Self-Made Prophecies (Of Varanasi)
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/ the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds are playing their melodies in my head still, three years post-Indonesia.         All of my soul to India now,         sky the pink of painted elephants         on Jaipur dawning,         my afterlife was somewhere here         perhaps two generations ago, chances are.                Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha                playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the                Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring                hands held together keeping calm pace.                Looking about, my twenty-two year old face catches humid wind S I L V E R S H O P tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance      PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/      COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/      MEDITATING SHIVA/ dulled from years and corrosion. Brahmin center of the market street flapping it's tail, sweat beads from my forehead bleeding to oily pavement. At last the months have come for the river Ganges, April penumbra/savage thunderclap while school children uplifting the heart                  AND MIND are ROARING in their laughter the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY sleeping with their eyes open while others are too tired for the Earth. Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during the black hour cremations/ “Bechet Creole Blues” CATERWAUL IN THAT              VOID THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/ LUNACY OF LIFE                      (I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads                                                         of both) searing flesh in open air pyramids/ Manikarnika Ghat, Asia  F           L          O          W           S through dreams like inevitable prophecy and as ash blends with stars the CITY seems fulfilled and mystifying in it's                       (((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
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65
You weave your stories like the night, stringing the moon with the stars; the finest of pristine pearls, threaded by twilight. Weaving the finest Varanasi silk with life as your celestial loom; laying down gold- and silver-threaded brocade, dormant gardens burst in bloom. Your pen is the philosopher’s stone turning lead hearts into gold; manipulating structure in stunning stanzas, inscribing on hearts in italics and bold. Nodding in acquiescence the sages of the ages, will then add your magnum opus to their papyraceous pages.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Threaded By Twilight
Two strangers in a rickshaw in Varanasi: Two strangers who never felt like strangers. Two people lost and alive in the moment, The same moment With every sense standing, antennae bristling.. Two in a bubble Together, held apart. Caught up in a parade and surrounded by shy , smiling faces Waving modestly at the fair haired strangers, Laughing At their surprise and joy. Knowing that moment's awe Delighted to share the festival. Rickety trucks gaudily decorated blare out the tinny music and High pitched voices distorted by the tannoy add an urgency To the motion. Shimmering saris glisten, So in tune with the music that trembles with joy. That joy spills out from the Scents, the colours, the gleaming grins and the shy waving that marks our welcome, Till every sense tingles With life. And then the sand storm Swirling and circling the speeding rickshaw Arrived mysteriously, magically, Like dry ice in a theatre. The air now tangible; Surrounding us like the skin of a bubble Lifting us out Of ourselves as the scene comes and goes. The sand screen clears to reveal An elephant A beautiful, smiling elephant Dressed in splendour Accompanying us on our magic carpet ride. Close enough for us to touch his hide. Bejewelled and glorious Smiling too And all is one in that moment And each looks at the other and feels enchanted and wants the parade to go on forever Just like this; With motion And music And colour And smiles And laughter And An elephant.
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Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
Varanasi
Floating, like a specimen, in a bell jar in the Chemistry Lab of Grade XI in Lucknow. I am suspended. I am floating. Everywhere is blue. I hear bubbles and see them rise. I open my mouth and water rushes in, salty and warm. I can’t speak. I can’t cry out. I am drowning. I think of Varanasi; skulls that float. Why do dead skulls float? Why do the living sink? I want to rise. The sea is inky black. An octopus floats by. A school of clown fish gaze at me curiously. I think of swimming like the fish in a warm ocean in the Andaman Sea. I hear laughter, I feel the sun on my shoulders. Oh, the sun. I miss the sun. I crave heat. It is so very cold. It is so very cold. I feel something warmer on my lower back. I look. A dolphin is smiling. Yes, smiling! I look down at myself. I am a mermaid! My hair is blonde, my waist is tiny, and my ******* are encased in shells. I laugh gleefully. The dolphin, as if on cue, swims below me and I mount him. And then, like we have been doing this since time immemorial, our bodies in sync, we float upwards. Joy abounds. An effervescence, a lightness of spirit, a playfulness that heals. The water is getting warmer and paler. We playfully swim with all the time in the world. And as I surface for the air that I don’t need, I am full of peace.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
Coming Up For Air
O Ganga! You flow Across the mighty Mountains O your youthful Playful force Making its way Through the Ancient boulders Stream after stream Joins you To find its destiny Happily In your depths To make you O the vast Ganga we know The Aryans found their Abode on your banks You saw the rise of Jainism And Buddhism O civilization Not only flourished But flowered On your banks! You've seen it all! You travel down the Tehri dam Across Rishikesh And Haridwar From the cow's mouth O the Gomukh Where your mother Glacier Gangotri rests! You enter the plains Having crisscrossed Roads many And lives Of many a being Who consider you As mother Worship you You bear their brunt also Carrying heaps of Garbage You flow Kanpur You see tanneries And many more You nourish them Keep them running But they end up Slowing your run You reach Allahabad What's in a name A tryst of cultures O you have the Gangs Jamuni doab And Gangs jamuni tehzeeb! Your sisters join you And here at Prayag You have Yamuna with you O a mythical sister Saraswati does find here way to you They say Life goes on on your ghats As usual People washing clothes Themselves And people offering Flowers and performing Rituals on your banks O all but consider you As an earthly mother A heavenly gift Just like Saraswati You have your place in the scriptures as well! You also Flow out of mythology Into our minds O the mighty Shiva Took you In his mighty curls Of hair To allay your spirit As you descended Onto the Earth To purge peoples Lives The Bhagiratha's Penance you saw then He got back his wish Thousand brothers They say O you but still see The Kumbh Mela(fair) So many souls You see the serenity Of Varanasi The beautiful spirituality Of its Ghats O young wrestlers Massaging before The day's fight Alongside Seers in Deep meditation On your banks O you have settled This city You flow across Patna The ancient Pataliputra Seen many imperial Rise and falls History echoes in you You enter Bengal The fertile Gangetic plains Bear testimony To your gifts With their lush green And swaying fields The Farakka barrage Sees you in one of your Giant avatars You irrigate And touch people! You flow as the Padma in Bangladesh O you know Two lands separated By political shadows You flow As Bhagirathi Hooghly In Bengal The rice bowl! O your Ilish(Hilda) People do relish You flow graciously Through Flat extensive plains Past Kolkata The city of joy And into the sea At Gangasagar Taking with you So many memories And promising The continuity Of your divine Grace O dear river, You are Ganga!
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
A river
O Ganga! You flow Across the mighty Mountains O your youthful Playful force Making its way Through the Ancient boulders Stream after stream Joins you To find its destiny Happily In your depths To make you O the vast Ganga we know The Aryans found their Abode on your banks You saw the rise of Jainism And Buddhism O civilization Not only flourished But flowered On your banks! You've seen it all! You travel down the Tehri dam Across Rishikesh And Haridwar From the cow's mouth O the Gomukh Where your mother Glacier Gangotri rests! You enter the plains Having crisscrossed Roads many And lives Of many a being Who consider you As mother Worship you You bear their brunt also Carrying heaps of Garbage You flow Kanpur You see tanneries And many more You nourish them Keep them running But they end up Slowing your run You reach Allahabad What's in a name A tryst of cultures O you have the Gangs Jamuni doab And Gangs jamuni tehzeeb! Your sisters join you And here at Prayag You have Yamuna with you O a mythical sister Saraswati does find here way to you They say Life goes on on your ghats As usual People washing clothes Themselves And people offering Flowers and performing Rituals on your banks O all but consider you As an earthly mother A heavenly gift Just like Saraswati You have your place in the scriptures as well! You also Flow out of mythology Into our minds O the mighty Shiva Took you In his mighty curls Of hair To allay your spirit As you descended Onto the Earth To purge peoples Lives The Bhagiratha's Penance you saw then He got back his wish Thousand brothers They say O you but still see The Kumbh Mela(fair) So many souls You see the serenity Of Varanasi The beautiful spirituality Of its Ghats O young wrestlers Massaging before The day's fight Alongside Seers in Deep meditation On your banks O you have settled This city You flow across Patna The ancient Pataliputra Seen many imperial Rise and falls History echoes in you You enter Bengal The fertile Gangetic plains Bear testimony To your gifts With their lush green And swaying fields The Farakka barrage Sees you in one of your Giant avatars You irrigate And touch people! You flow as the Padma in Bangladesh O you know Two lands separated By political shadows You flow As Bhagirathi Hooghly In Bengal The rice bowl! O your Ilish(Hilda) People do relish You flow graciously Through Flat extensive plains Past Kolkata The city of joy And into the sea At Gangasagar Taking with you So many memories And promising The continuity Of your divine Grace O dear river, You are Ganga!
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154
white lotus now stung thrice by a self centered bee, could you ever forgive me? don’t say a prayer for me now, as three roller coaster trips down unknown uteruses await more skulls for that crescent bearer adorning a blue throat to wear as a garland as he waltzes his way through the raging funeral pyres of the cremation grounds in soul filled Varanasi © 2021
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Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 11:28 AM UTC
varanasi
(spiral of eyes      to a magnesium explosion   flare emerging children holding matchsticks to the ocean crackle of a generator popping phantoms to the Varanasi Ghats where a series of men hold smoke to a blackness and I'm holding my lungs in front of me and breathing using an artificial tank gifted to me by decorated elephants (who've long since passed away) a film director captures my decay and compares me to a romantic who bled out and was given a second chance at life but remained empty of RED and just EMPTY soon the rest of this body will give and clearly the roses remain apathetic of this ultimatum I lay for hours catatonic allowing the sensation to finish me before anything else can.                                                                                                                           )
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
prelude to a paroxysm
despite the macabre march of corpses straight into the raging funeral pyres, it’s the icy waters of the Ganges from your matted locks which shiver my timbers amidst mellifluous incantations, one thousand and eight lamps floating on this mystical river sparkle in an anemone glow here, a great sage was taught a befitting lesson in humility and spirituality as i melt hearing this soulful octet in praise of this ancient city, its most important inhabitant smiles...... truth be told i’m in a Varanasi state of mind © 2022
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Apr 3, 2022
Apr 3, 2022 at 9:23 AM UTC
from your matted locks
Let us go to Galilee that four yard cell in Mathura, deerpark in Varanasi, and ask where are we headed? Fallow the field we furrow. Lost the harvests of our youth. And when all's done, this our fear, that it was not enough, that it was not enough. What does it mean to love, find peace in works, uncover the joy of existence? (Mere) myth, delusion, infant babble of an evolving kind?
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May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
Heading Where?
FACE THE THREATS * Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi - Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy, Vivekananda found at the end A lonely path that seemed to blend. With his solemn, pensive mood. Longing for silence and solitude. As he walked along the narrow path Winding amidst lush green plants Towards a sprawling, lovely lake, A horde of monkeys, all red faced, Sprang on him from a nearby branch. Taken aback by their sudden attack, He ran very fast, never turning back, But the menacing beasts were at his heels And one of them pulled his saffron gown While the others growled and shrieked. Shocked to see this frightful scene, A holy man coming from the lake, Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake. Stand there, face the surly brutes." Regaining his composure and lost balance, Vivekananda stopped at once, Held his ground and raised his hand. Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled . Thus awakened, he soon realised - "When you are threatened by opponents, Face them with courage and confidence, Yet, without malice or vengeance. To win life's battles, have grit and strength, For, strength is life and fear, worse than death." **********. M.G.Narasimha Murthy Hyderabad, India
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
FACE THE THREATS
FACE THE THREATS *            Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi - Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy, Vivekananda found at the end A lonely path that seemed to blend. With his solemn, pensive mood. Longing for silence and solitude. As he walked along the narrow path Winding amidst lush green plants Towards a sprawling, lovely lake, A horde of monkeys, all red faced, Sprang on him from a nearby branch. Taken aback by their sudden attack, He ran very fast, never turning back, But the menacing beasts were at his heels And one of them pulled his saffron gown While the others growled and shrieked. Shocked to see this frightful scene, A holy man coming from the lake, Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake. Stand there, face the surly brutes." Regaining his composure and lost balance, Vivekananda stopped at once, Held his ground and raised his hand. Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled .         Thus awakened, he soon realised -          "When you are threatened by opponents,            Face them with courage and confidence,             Yet, without malice or vengeance.              To win life's battles, have grit and strength,               For, strength is life and fear, worse than death."                               **********.  M.G.Narasimha Murthy Hyderabad, India
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Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
FACE THE THREATS
(Dedicated to our dear bhakti friend and kindred spirit Catherine Jansen) Catherine dances around the cremation grounds with the Nagi, Sadhus of Lord Shiva skulls and snakes dangling from their fearsome necks Her unique eye is able to behold beauty in the dreadful and sublime Cat's heart belongs to Banaras also known as Varanasi, Kashi City of Temples and Light to die in Banaras is considered auspicious and augers salvation With Love and Compassion of the Divine Mother Catherine showers happy gifts on orphaned street children Clutching Barbie dolls and flashing brand new dental smiles they dance with her along the Ganges Catherine dances with an all seeing camera in her hands Zooming in and Zooming out of the sacred, human, transcendental experience
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May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 7:37 PM UTC
A Bowl of Diamonds
A while ago, I posted a number of poems with links to Youtube "videos" - except they are in fact still pictures with a recording of me reading. Because I posted them to another site they aren't available any more without going to YouTube.  I'd be interested if anyone would like to comment here.   1/ Reflection -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXrSZpBg2WI   2/ Guard of Honour -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aw-Z-SmfP6I   3/ Golden Wedding -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=9-SZFvaHnEQ   4/ Varanasi -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nh6FKZDKd0   5/ Questions -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmfCKk48EG8   6/ Remnants - Auschwitz -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8cIXenq9GY   7/ Restless day -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2kR9ZlEa6s   8/ Invitation -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4syNSdtgQ0   9/ Insides -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2D1sRadWe8 10/ Sleepless Night -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2D1sRadWe8 11/ Unknown River -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk6Y5nNzIdU 12/ The First Time -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIzzFJdj3DM 13/ Word Game -- www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGDioDYXex4
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 9:07 AM UTC
Recorded Readings - updated re-post
Heater and me shoulda been a thing but we let it go, I stayed put when she went south to see the hippy show at Varanasi she got sick I'd warned her of the same but her friend was green, about our scene so she went anyway When I got back to England I gave her dad a call, she'd given me his number coz she didn't know where she'd fall he said she was in England too and not too far from me I waited for a coupla of days hoping she'd be free and when I called I could hear some strain within her voice she didn't sound like the angel I had met in other times she told me she was hooked up with the guy she'd left behind she felt like she'd betrayed him she was not the travelling kind
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Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 5:36 PM UTC
She was not the travelling kind
स्याही से टूट कर शब्दों का पन्नो पे बिखर जाना, इतना आसान नहीं शब्दों का बनारस बन जाना़... ख्वाहिश है, शब्द तुम्हें कुछ यूँ छू के गुज़र जाएँ, तुम ढूढ़ना मुझे,जब हम इन गलियों में खो जाएँ... #thought #hindi_shabd #varanasi
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Jun 2, 2021
Jun 2, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
शब्द बनारस...