I sometimes wonder
how straight lines feel
bumping into themselves
at the bottom of every curve?
and if that's not enough
they continues to swing again
after being so rudely put off.
Official Website and Blog for Shaleen Rakesh, an indie author based in Dehradun, India. Shaleen is a writer and recursive observer of the shifting Himalayan landscape, whose work interrogates the friction between geologic time and the fragile architecture of human memory. Deeply rooted in the ecological and psychological terrain of the Doon Valley, his prose functions as a diagnostic for the Anthropocene—charting the rain of ash that defines modern loss.
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खुले नीले आस्मां तले हवा ने अपने पंख खोले और तुम्हारी मुस्कान से चले एक राह निकली है मुझतक तुम्हारे ...
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At night at night you're not here at night at night you're not here any more than day at night you're not here no more do I dre...
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A brick is made of earth and therefore it has no independent existence. It's existence is derived from the earth itself. The brick is th...

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