Storyteller of mud and grass

तुम्हे ज़रुरी था बताना के मैं हार गया तुमने मुझसे दो पल भी कुछ सीखा हो तो मिटा दो हर उस सीख को अगर मिटा पाओ मैं नही चाहता के तुम हार जाओ कुछ नही रखा खाली रास्तों में वहीं जाना जहां सब जाते हैं पागलपन कुछ नही एक बहाना है कुछ लोगों को छोटा दिखाना है अब कोई शहर छोटा शहर न रहा अब तुम्हे पहचानने वालें कोई और ही हैं तुम्हारे घर की खिडकियों से कुछ भी दिखे नज़रिया बनाने वाले कोई और ही हैं किसी भी गलत बात के खिलाफ न होना गलत और कुछ भी नही एक नज़रिया है मिटा दो हर उस नजरिए को अगर मिटा पाओ मैं नही चाहता के तुम हार जाओ

Our understanding of the sub atomic world tells us that there is nothing really physical. It is the myriad combinations of what our five sense organs can produce at best, or what our brains can cook out of ingredients provided by them. Collectively we see, hear, smell, touch and taste the world that we know. We only have a notion of physicality as against real physicality. Hence, the notions related to physicality, separation and annexation, decomposition and alloys, planets, galaxies, distances and inability to see the sub atomic and the extra terrestrial. We therefore, do not have a celestial address, we have notional addresses. Where do we stay? Planet number 3, Solar system number x, Galaxy number y, and so on. We not only are unaware of the positions our solar system and our galaxy in their respective series, we don't even know what to write beyond that.  Its only where we think we are. The notional address. We are where we imagine we are. Therefore we being in the same ge...

Kumari Kandam – The Land Not Lost Yet Sourav Sen & Arpita Chatterjee February 2020 New Delhi The Calf Path By Sam Foss One day, through the primeval wood, A calf walked home, as good calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, A crooked trail as all calves do. Since then two hundred years have fled, And, I infer, the calf is dead. But still he left behind his trail, And thereby hangs my moral tale. The trail was taken up next day By a lone dog that passed that way; And then a wise bell-wether sheep Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep, And drew the flock behind him, too, As good bell-wethers always do. And from that day, o’er hill and glade, Through those old woods a path was made; And many men wound in and out, And dodged, and turned, and bent about And uttered words of righteous wrath Because ‘twas such a crooked path. But still they followed -- do not laugh -- The first migrations of that calf, And through this winding wood-way stalked, ...