Abhyuday (Villanelle)

    The sun had been setting softly at the bank of Daya... He, being overjoyed and basking in the victory, came out. The end of the day was casting its curtain over the field...   He holds, retraced and looked around over his victory-- The broken chariots, the carcass, the waving war flags... The … Continue reading Abhyuday (Villanelle)


The Dream of My Assassination

The night was a starry one with the full moon in its majestic queen beauty. The wood, in the spring breeze, composed psithurism with dried leaves From the bygone winter rustling and hustling on the dry path-- While the young leaves tremble silently. Relaxed, serene was the night, as the hamlet was getting ready to go … Continue reading The Dream of My Assassination