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Smruti Ranjan Mohanty

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White SOMETHING I LOOK AT-118 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY MY FATHER The word that touches me hard and closest to my heart is father. The word that is music to my ear, the divine Onkar is my father. The word that runs in each drop of my blood, the word my tongue so eager to utter is my father The man, my whole being die to visualize, the voice of whom my ears avid to listen is none else but my father. The man who is larger than life, the picture of confidence, the epitome of love and sacrifice is my father The man who has done no wrong, whose very presence inspires confidence is my father. The teacher who loved his students more than his kids and for whom his students are his sons by culture is my father. I was his son by birth, but he never told me whether I could become his son by culture. I know not How come I am alive, when you, my idol is no more. How I am fighting against all odds, the vagaries of life, the turbulent sea, the violent weather when the able navigator is no more. You have not died. Fathers never die, remain alive as a feeling and consciousness, and that is what guides me in every step. You know what you mean to me, to the people who know you, and you are still in the heart of our hearts, showing the way, guiding us to perfection. When I fumble, I always find you behind the back patting my shoulder, murmuring in the ear, "My child! I am here, always with you forever" Smruti Ranjan Mohanty© All Copyrights Reserved ©Smruti Ranjan Mohanty #love_shayari SOMETHING I LOOK AT-118 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY MY FATHER The word that touches me hard and closest to my hear

White SOMETHING I LOOK AT-118 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY MY FATHER The word that touches me hard and closest to my heart is father. The word that is music to my ear, the divine Onkar is my father. The word that runs in each drop of my blood, the word my tongue so eager to utter is my father The man, my whole being die to visualize, the voice of whom my ears avid to listen is none else but my father. The man who is larger than life, the picture of confidence, the epitome of love and sacrifice is my father The man who has done no wrong, whose very presence inspires confidence is my father. The teacher who loved his students more than his kids and for whom his students are his sons by culture is my father. I was his son by birth, but he never told me whether I could become his son by culture. I know not How come I am alive, when you, my idol is no more. How I am fighting against all odds, the vagaries of life, the turbulent sea, the violent weather when the able navigator is no more. You have not died. Fathers never die, remain alive as a feeling and consciousness, and that is what guides me in every step. You know what you mean to me, to the people who know you, and you are still in the heart of our hearts, showing the way, guiding us to perfection. When I fumble, I always find you behind the back patting my shoulder, murmuring in the ear, "My child! I am here, always with you forever" Smruti Ranjan Mohanty© All Copyrights Reserved ©Smruti Ranjan Mohanty #love_shayari SOMETHING I LOOK AT-118 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY MY FATHER The word that touches me hard and closest to my hear

Santosh Jangam

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"Golden Wisdom" In porches they gather, from sight they are sought, By time's river swept, wisdom they've brought. Like jackfruits they stand, their hearts full of gold, Eyes deep as wells, their stories retold. Wrinkles like etchings, skin sun-kissed by time, Clothes worn and faded, their presence sublime. Foreheads with sandalwood, devotion in song, Their tales and their laughter, forever prolong. Memories we cherish, their lessons we trace, Their smiles and their wisdom, a joy to embrace. Life's flame in their eyes, like beacons they shine, Guiding our dreams, their legacy divine. These elders, our teachers, inspiring our ways, With hearts full of reverence, we honor their days. ©Santosh Jangam #poem Cherish and honor the wisdom of the elderly, recognizing their stories and experiences as valuable guides for our own lives.

"Golden Wisdom" In porches they gather, from sight they are sought, By time's river swept, wisdom they've brought. Like jackfruits they stand, their hearts full of gold, Eyes deep as wells, their stories retold. Wrinkles like etchings, skin sun-kissed by time, Clothes worn and faded, their presence sublime. Foreheads with sandalwood, devotion in song, Their tales and their laughter, forever prolong. Memories we cherish, their lessons we trace, Their smiles and their wisdom, a joy to embrace. Life's flame in their eyes, like beacons they shine, Guiding our dreams, their legacy divine. These elders, our teachers, inspiring our ways, With hearts full of reverence, we honor their days. ©Santosh Jangam #poem Cherish and honor the wisdom of the elderly, recognizing their stories and experiences as valuable guides for our own lives.

Srinivas

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Hard work is the compass that guides us towards our dreams. Keep moving, even when the path seems steep. ©Srinivas #efforts #work Hard work is the compass that guides us towards our dreams. Keep moving, even when the path seems steep.

Hard work is the compass that guides us towards our dreams. Keep moving, even when the path seems steep. ©Srinivas #efforts #work Hard work is the compass that guides us towards our dreams. Keep moving, even when the path seems steep.