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Looking back on that game, I never for once thought that 'right, I should not play here', when one bad ball could have easily ended my cricket (or vision) forever. (story in caption) *A loser? Me?* I recently found myself opening the batting in one of the most terrible pitches I've ever played. Yes, it was a tennis ball game and yes, people consider it much more safe than the season ball. We were batting first and I was not sure what to expect from this eerie looking pitch. The opening bowler from their side was one of my closer mates, also, a spearhead with the ball. There he came running in bowling a quick one first up that landed around the good length area taking a ri

Looking back on that game, I never for once thought that 'right, I should not play here', when one bad ball could have easily ended my cricket (or vision) forever. (story in caption) *A loser? Me?* I recently found myself opening the batting in one of the most terrible pitches I've ever played. Yes, it was a tennis ball game and yes, people consider it much more safe than the season ball. We were batting first and I was not sure what to expect from this eerie looking pitch. The opening bowler from their side was one of my closer mates, also, a spearhead with the ball. There he came running in bowling a quick one first up that landed around the good length area taking a ri

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Belt marks on his back give the testimony of the life he lives. I imagine his mother looking at her son from the beyond and crying silent tears. (story in caption) *Nannu and his fate* All the boys playing cricket in the village ground are below twelve years of age. Among them, the most noticeable boy is Nannu. I have played enough cricket in my life to know which boy is really playing cricket and which boy is just spending (wasting) time. I sit near the long on boundary and observe Nannu. The boy who has won my heart by the way he plays. He isn't the most perfect fielder but he dives around like a force. A force that wouldn't take a loss at any cost. Hi

Belt marks on his back give the testimony of the life he lives. I imagine his mother looking at her son from the beyond and crying silent tears. (story in caption) *Nannu and his fate* All the boys playing cricket in the village ground are below twelve years of age. Among them, the most noticeable boy is Nannu. I have played enough cricket in my life to know which boy is really playing cricket and which boy is just spending (wasting) time. I sit near the long on boundary and observe Nannu. The boy who has won my heart by the way he plays. He isn't the most perfect fielder but he dives around like a force. A force that wouldn't take a loss at any cost. Hi

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a simple short poem for you When the success is near Stay present and breathe When the failure hits the feels Keep balance and breathe When the ant does its thing Just observe and breathe

a simple short poem for you When the success is near Stay present and breathe When the failure hits the feels Keep balance and breathe When the ant does its thing Just observe and breathe

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You'll believe in the idea of home for at least once in your life. It can be a person, a place, or a story. You'll fall completely for this home hoping it will last forever. But then one season, one year, or a lifetime later you will find yourself thrown out of your own home. And when it happens you'll have nowhere to go. There are days in life when your face glows like the full moon enchanting the sky. And then there are days when you can't help mourning your ugly craters when everyone is fast asleep. You'll believe in the idea of home for at least once in your life. It can be a person, a place, or a story. You'll fall completely for this home hoping it will last forever. But then one season, one year, or a lifetime later you will find yourself thrown out of your own home. And when it happens you'll have nowher

You'll believe in the idea of home for at least once in your life. It can be a person, a place, or a story. You'll fall completely for this home hoping it will last forever. But then one season, one year, or a lifetime later you will find yourself thrown out of your own home. And when it happens you'll have nowhere to go. There are days in life when your face glows like the full moon enchanting the sky. And then there are days when you can't help mourning your ugly craters when everyone is fast asleep. You'll believe in the idea of home for at least once in your life. It can be a person, a place, or a story. You'll fall completely for this home hoping it will last forever. But then one season, one year, or a lifetime later you will find yourself thrown out of your own home. And when it happens you'll have nowher

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Nina *Nina* She is a girl Stuck within half a year Changing hairstyles, painting her nails Smiling wide, crying details Nina is her lovely name Always mine, she is always the same

Nina *Nina* She is a girl Stuck within half a year Changing hairstyles, painting her nails Smiling wide, crying details Nina is her lovely name Always mine, she is always the same

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girls *girls* i'm not some timid alien from mars but I often act funny around girls the new girl in the balcony was the most beautiful neighbour she was standing there

girls *girls* i'm not some timid alien from mars but I often act funny around girls the new girl in the balcony was the most beautiful neighbour she was standing there

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Damn, I want to cry. No one seems to notice my grandfather on the wall anymore. The picture stands with a little garland that seems to acknowledge the life of the man. I don't know much about him for I was just seven when he left but I have three clear memories of the man as I look at the beautiful picture resting serene trying to tell me something. The first thing I see is the decent dress up. This is the kind of dress up a poor man does for an event that excites him. There is this good old traditional topi on his

Damn, I want to cry. No one seems to notice my grandfather on the wall anymore. The picture stands with a little garland that seems to acknowledge the life of the man. I don't know much about him for I was just seven when he left but I have three clear memories of the man as I look at the beautiful picture resting serene trying to tell me something. The first thing I see is the decent dress up. This is the kind of dress up a poor man does for an event that excites him. There is this good old traditional topi on his

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I want to be friends with people who are not even born yet. (poem in caption) *Timeless* "Ab to aadat si hai mujhko aise jeene mein" I was not just feeling the lyrics I was actually living the lyrics In the shower, close eyed Atif Aslam was the friend for the day The song Aadat remains timeless

I want to be friends with people who are not even born yet. (poem in caption) *Timeless* "Ab to aadat si hai mujhko aise jeene mein" I was not just feeling the lyrics I was actually living the lyrics In the shower, close eyed Atif Aslam was the friend for the day The song Aadat remains timeless

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The Story of a Girl *Slaps and Sex –The Story of a Girl* She was born in a poor family. Before her were three elder sisters and after her were two younger ones. She didn't know about their poverty, she just loved playing games– Luka Chuppi, Chor Sipahi, and others.

The Story of a Girl *Slaps and Sex –The Story of a Girl* She was born in a poor family. Before her were three elder sisters and after her were two younger ones. She didn't know about their poverty, she just loved playing games– Luka Chuppi, Chor Sipahi, and others.

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What can I write about love?! Do I write about your eyes? Small yet holding my universe within Having expressions of their own Glistening poetry when moistened Gleaming poetry when smiling. What can I write about love?! Do I write about your smile? Subsiding some saddening ocean Attempting our love maroon Your lips and mine, lovable And both of us over the moon. (full poem in caption) What can I write about love?! Do I write about your eyes? Small yet holding my universe within Having expressions of their own Glistening poetry when moistened Gleaming poetry when smiling. What can I write about love?!

What can I write about love?! Do I write about your eyes? Small yet holding my universe within Having expressions of their own Glistening poetry when moistened Gleaming poetry when smiling. What can I write about love?! Do I write about your smile? Subsiding some saddening ocean Attempting our love maroon Your lips and mine, lovable And both of us over the moon. (full poem in caption) What can I write about love?! Do I write about your eyes? Small yet holding my universe within Having expressions of their own Glistening poetry when moistened Gleaming poetry when smiling. What can I write about love?!