Indian Authors Quotes

When you left you left behind a fieldof silent flowers under a sky full of unstirred clouds...you left a million butterfliesmid-silky flutters You left like midnight rain against my dreaming ears Oh and how you left leaving my coffee scentless and my couch comfortless leaving upon my fingers the melting snow of you you left behind a calendar full of empty days and seasons full of aimless wanders leaving me alone with an armful of sunsets your reflection behind in every puddle your whispersupon every curtain your fragranceinside every petal you left your echoes in between the silence of my eyes Oh and how you leftleaving my sands footless and my shores songless leaving me with windows full of moistened moonlight nights and nightsof only a half-warmed soul and when you left... you left behind a lifetime of moments untouched the light of a million starsunshed and when you left you somehowleft my poem...unfinished. (Published in Taj Mahal Review Vol.11Number 1 June 2012)

sometimes i am not sure.if i am writing the poemor the poemis writing me.

Your obsession with being in control of your mind makes you so stiff all the times; that is why our egos are growing, and our sense of humor is shrinking.

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

Srinagar is a medieval city dying in a modern war. It is empty streets, locked shops, angry soldiers and boys with stones. It is several thousand military bunkers, four golf courses, and three book-shops. It is wily politicians repeating their lies about war and peace to television cameras and small crowds gathered by the promise of an elusive job or a daily fee of a few hundred rupees. It is stopping at sidewalks and traffic lights when the convoys of rulers and their patrons in armored cars, secured by machine guns, rumble on broken roads. It is staring back or looking away, resigned. Srinagar is never winning and never being defeated.

you wereand always will bethat first ever touchto have fertilizedthe groundbeneath my life’s treesthat first ever roseto have fragrancedthe rest of my memories.

i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.

What you are trying to let go of...is already gone.

In the business world, there is no gray. Either you are black, or you are white-washed.

I prefer people to consider me by who I am and what I do and not by how I look!

The internet in general and social networking sites in particular are making people more reclusive than social.

Farsi Couplet:Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi,mun tun shudam tu jaan shudiTaakas na guyad baad azeen, mun deegaram tu deegariEnglish Translation:I have become you, and you me,I am the body, you soul;So that no one can say hereafter,That you are someone, and me someone else.

Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar, Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar. English Translation. Oh Khusrau, the river of love Runs in strange directions. One who jumps into it drowns, And one who drowns, gets across.

Change the world, I know I won’t,Enthralling as always I hope it remains,A kaleidoscope of joy, sorrow and pain.But my only wish as I take this jaunt,Is for my words on you to impress upon,A smile, a tear or even an angry frown.

fierce lovers.and battle warriorsboth comefrom the same place. there is bound to be,some bloodshed.

Humans by nature are promiscuous. Loyalty is an aberration!

We are the children of a womb.Yet we differentiate each other,On color, creed and the sizes of our tombs!!

Tell me..how do you stand there?filling the doorway....of my life.

whatever you dobe gentle with yourself.you don’t just livein this worldor your homeor your skin.you also livein someone’s eyes.

You touched my heart...ever so softlyand I realizedtears had never been...merely saltand the rainOh the Rain!had never been merely water.

some poems frothand foam and rise...out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

May the nights always be aglowwith the bliss of the daywith unharmed hands and feetand kissed cheeks.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

You are the ocean to my eyes.

I'm sorry that I hurt you.""You didn't hurt me." There was a long pause on the phone. Then she said,"You are going to hurt from this longer than I ever will. It's true that I didn't know what kind of Indian you were. But what hurts me most is to know what kind of man.

There is somethingmystically sadand beautifulabouthowi will neversee youagainbut meet youagain and againin poetry.

I breathe in...the fragranceof love, and moist sandthe onehis roses lefton both my handsI just keep on breathingevery momentas much as I canpreserving it, in my bodyfor the dayit can’t.

Civilians enjoy their time because soldiers sacrifice their time.

Once in a while i am struckall over again... by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

Dear Fellow Human Being,You are born wild, You do not deserve to be tamed!Tell yourself,You do not deserve this!All those toxic words you have to listen from people,All those fears they try to pin on your mind,All those giggles they aim at your dreams,All those judgmental stares inspecting your individuality,All those fingers pointing towards your crude character,All those shackles that tie your feet to social expectations,All those cages that do not let your imagination fly free,Listen deeply, you do not deserve any of it.My dear fellow human, you do not deserve this hostility.You are born wild, You do not deserve to be tamed!― Jasz Gill

And stay, my dearstay...forever, as my quiet song,in my lilac dawn.

There is no man who is enterprising and keeps well up with the times but confesses that the women of to-day are in every respect, except political liberty, equal to the men.

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

I breathe in...the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.