Ruth: The Prologue

In the quiet solitude of my thoughts, I found an unusual delight in loving someone oblivious to my existence. It was a pleasure that defied the conventional bounds of connection, surpassing the limits of form, substance, and cognition. The question of "How I defined her" remained a nuanced exploration, a constant journey through the corridors of my evolving understanding of love.

Lost in contemplation, I gently closed my eyes, allowing the canvas of my imagination to come alive. A fleeting smile graced my lips, a silent tribute to the vivid images painted by my mind. As my eyes slowly reopened, a sigh escaped, betraying the futile attempt to banish her from my thoughts. She was like a breath of fresh air, akin to the early morning dew—persistent, refreshing, and impossible to shake off.

No matter how diligently I tried to divert my mind, her thoughts persisted, a relentless night train traversing the dark woods of my consciousness, illuminating my entire existence. In loving her, there was an undeniable beauty, a glimmer of hope encapsulated within the vast realm of her profound love.

In her written expressions, she unknowingly wove a tapestry that someone, miles away, fell in love with—the mere possibility of being enamored by her. Unbeknownst to her, I wondered about her identity as well. Her enigmatic persona made frequent appearances in my thoughts, a puzzle unsolved. She remained oblivious to the fact that, in my world, she existed somewhere, buried in the recesses of a bygone time—a mystery of the past.

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Hindolam: M₁

At every corner, she glimpsed him. Through the mist, she saw his figure, looking at her, the love in his eyes never fading. She tightened her grip on 'his' hand, her love, and glanced back. Sometimes she wonders, was it true? What he believed in. Whether she was his princess. But, she lost that moment. And she lived in her present, and the past, a mirage. Nothing could change her love for 'him'. She looked into 'his' eyes and all her inhibitions disappeared. She didn't hear the soft crunch of leaves behind her. She was too occupied with her love, her beliefs, with 'him'. She didn't see him steal glances at her. And sometimes, he lost her again, in the mist, in the blur, in the obscurity. But he always found her, for his love for her burned in his heart, a bright flame. She gave him the key to his freedom, but he flung it away. He chose his way of life, he wanted to chase her forever. He would never give up. His incessant pursuit fascinated her, ...

In the Fabric of Evolution

Nothing was left untouched. Every stone was overturned, every grain of sand displaced. The monstrous beauty of the Earth transforming into a perfect haven for living organisms was a grand saga of evolution—an orchestration by the Unknown. As a child then, and an adult now, my timeless reverie has been to envision this orchestration—to witness how the Earth journeyed from the most hostile to the most hospitable. I have, time and again, tried to comprehend evolution and the mysterious forces that harmonized to weave the very fabric of life. As I grew, I found myself entangled in the same fabric of evolution—fulfilling its purpose. I began to see how I, too, evolved through the people who crossed my path, the events that unfolded, and the moments that shaped me. Everything seemed to work in silent precision, scripting the being I was meant to become. Should I resist it—or embrace it? I find resistance meaningless, for everything appears perfectly programmed by time and space. Can I truly ...

Hindolam: Ṡ

WE danced till the world slipped into an oblivion of our presence. WE drank wine till the sun turned black. WE forgot who we were and transformed into the purest form of creation. I knew, then, I died and reincarnated into all of your desires, happiness, sorrows, fears, ecstasy, and forms of beings. “Where will you find me after?” your lips quivered. “You are everywhere” I said.

The Ballads of Gravity

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