A Letter to Rabindranath Tagore

I am sorry, I don’t feel the love anymore. And I am sorry, the Nation has not even thought about the idea that you had in mind.

I just came across the idea. And I am a strong believer in what you stated, but I fear to input direct words in this letter, because it will be read by diverse minds united by the so-called concrete reality of hatred. They think they are Indians or Muslim or Hindu, you know. And not humans. They find it easy to suffocate morality and escape the rational from the world. They will rather rest in grotesque violence than to interrogate the cause of humanity.

Everything has failed, the scriptures provoke a very few of them on the right path. Literature has ironically become this social fragment of the concrete hatred that they call love. There are books about people falling in ‘Love’, books about killing and surviving. It seems as if, they write to induce more spark to the hatred and ‘Love’.

But, you knew this all along, right? That they will never understand the idea of India. The idea of a country which is not developed in terms of the West. I know you were there, at the time where people wrote poems about what India would be, but you are here right now, all along knowing how they continue to fail.

So, I don’t love the idea anymore, because, for an idea, it is impossible to be concrete as their ‘Love’, but for an idea of the Nation, it is supposed to exist at least in the minds.

I wonder, how many help it to exist, we are driven by different motives, now.  ‘Love’, material, blood, and breath. And some are purely driven by hatred, so they love the country, so much.

And some are purely driven by hatred, so they love the country, so much. Their love for the country is immense, the people who hate. Because hatred takes pride, power, and the most staunch discriminant mind.

And the third category is the most controversial to my understanding and I really hope that the nationalist inside you, don’t read this descript. The soldiers, the true nationalists, the innocent, they are victims of the politics that play around with the idea of the Nation. The ones who want to conquer the feeling of inhabitance and restrict the idea of the universe just because they are programmed to want the same.

How trivial the heads are gone, I write this idea, again. Not to be remembered, but to be slaughtered by words.


Sagar Arora


Veiling Vices’ Virtues

A violin is set to play,

You are in this beautiful white dress,

Gloves creeping their way to your arms,

A hat hiding the flow of thoughts,

A veil on the face, enclosing its beauty.


Here I am, playing the songs in my head,

Suffocated from the flesh,

Where do I look,

When the ocean is enveloped by the sky and I rest in space,

Soon the song will stop and we go home.


The place where the secrets don’t settle,

Where bodies are naked and beauty proclaim the universe,

Where we can fall for each other, in the eyes, the deep blues,

No space or sky to resist the flow of my sight.


It is simply soothing, the coffee and your skin,

I never liked the sweet taste of hope,

Just the little sour, I adore.

So here we are, hand in hand, no clothes to bind and blind,

Let just lay, till they know we are drunk on coffee,

Till they go home.

Photograph by Anjali Sharma

Check out her amazing work here


My Dear Leo

The time has come where the ink shall reach the land,

Where you sit in peace, where you preach power.

How beautiful, the crown of wind, how majestic;

And you residing as the angle to hold the man.


Storms, they tend to have their way,

And the sand does not go with the fur of elegance,

My dear, how you make the cyclones to woe the sand?

How you assemble the serenity in the sorrow,

Roar in the rare dark caves of your mind.


All to escape through the light colors that delight,

Fourteen lines cannot do justice to the adore,


The Queen that addresses the masses of universe,

So different than the rest, such charm of life,

Either the ocean or the veil, the choice shall rest your day.

Sketch by Nistha Agrawal

Dear Gemini

We are gently written in the sky,

Like the wind, escaping the empty minds,

On the look of paradise, from the ocean,

To the shore, from the Sun,

To the Moon.


This curiosity links the woman to a thought,

To change the world, but only to herself,

She sings the beautiful discovery of the sins,

To dance along, and be friends with the song.


For she is the wind of humanity,

She can think and adore,

Rest each life and transcend the norms.

From around the world, she has been,

And she brings a lullaby that helps the world to think.


P.S-  The sketch is the contribution from another talented Gemini, Nistha Agrawal.

The Scars Faded In Dark

It was threaded to be this way,

A story that sang of their sins,

A lore that brought light to the scars,

A truth, trembling under the umbrella of her stars.

She was born in happiness,

But, the faith awaited grief,

She was brought up with kindness,

But, the sin pushed the heaven to her knees.

We all know a Noor,

The child who lived a little less,

And felt a little more,

The child who was sold from the shore,

Or the one who slept on the broken road,

Waiting for the cold to pass by,

But, afraid of the light that shall burn the sky.

There are many escaping her sight,

In the dark, her scares were never alive,

Let the light shine on the blood that she lost,

One moment to break the curse of the sin,

One hand to wipe the tears from the eyes,

One hope to let her feel a smile,

The expression that shall capture her fears from the night.

Gods of Love

The Fine Margin

Oh Aphrodite

Have I mistaken


Passion oozes

Skin grinds against skins

Breathing in the moist

Smell of holy union

Oh Cupid

Have I mistaken


My hands glide through her hair

Like black mares

Running in the dark

Oh the hair

Oh Venus

Have I mistaken


For faith



And lust?

Oh Eros

Have I mistaken


The Gods have spoken

They lay their wrath

On a mortal such as me

How dare I ask questions?

Squeamishly I stare down

At the Gods of love

They didn’t define it

Neither can I.

Don’t take my arms

Granted for skinny dipping

We don’t have to

Burn like embers to lay in ash

Do not undress

I saw you already

Changes I detest

From my dreams

You are perfect

From where I stand

You don’t have to come here

To break my heart

In my eyes you are


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