They stand tall
like the father
these mountains made of earth
they breathe heavily
through their enormous chest
and watch us with intense eyes
but we walk slowly on their palm
under their green foreheads
we are unable to walk
without pride
or fear
and we walk with too much desire.
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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The medieval Maghreb occupies a curious place in literary imagination. When people think of medieval Islamic poetry, they often turn eastwar...
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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...
