क़ातिल हाॅ मैं कातिल हुॅ खुद की, मैंने खून किया है अपने खवाबों का, घरवालों की खुशियों की खातिर, अपने खवाबों को कहीं दूर दफना के आई हुॅ। #ThakurSaab #ThakurSaab #nojotoquota #कातिल #murders

#ThakurSaab #nojotoquota #कातिल #murders #विचार

क़ातिल हाॅ मैं कातिल हुॅ खुद की, मैंने खून किया है अपने खवाबों का,
घरवालों की खुशियों की खातिर, अपने खवाबों को कहीं दूर दफना के आई हुॅ।

#ThakurSaab #ThakurSaab #nojotoquota #कातिल #murders

Abinesh

I like the generosity of numbers. The way, for example, they are willing to count anything or anyone: two pickles, one door to the room, eight dancers dressed as swans. I like the domesticity of addition— add two cups of milk and stir— the sense of plenty: six plums on the ground, three more falling from the tree. And multiplication's school of fish times fish, whose silver bodies breed beneath the shadow of a boat. Even subtraction is never loss, just addition somewhere else: five sparrows take away two, the two in someone else's garden now. There's an amplitude to long division, as it opens Chinese take-out box by paper box, inside every folded cookie a new fortune. And I never fail to be surprised by the gift of an odd remainder, footloose at the end: forty-seven divided by eleven equals four, with three remaining. Three boys beyond their mothers' call, two Italians off to the sea, one sock that isn't anywhere you look ©Abinesh Numbers

Numbers #Poetry