Skip to main content

A Fool



Once a bee met a sunflower 
They became friends 
Bee said he like her 
But she was already committed to Sun 
Bee said okay then I'll leave 

Then bee met a Jasmine 
They became friends 
Bee said he like her 
But she was already committed to Moon 
Bee said okay then I'll leave 

Then bee met a Rose
They became friends
This time Rose said she like him 
They fell in love 
But she was already committed to a butterfly 
Bee said okay I'll leave, I'm used to it! 

Sometimes life make us fools
Fools are used to it
Old fool bee is still waiting.. 

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When Cinema Dares to Challenge Power

A film is meant to be an artistic expression, a reflection of society, and sometimes, a bold mirror held up to power. Empuraan , the much-anticipated sequel to Lucifer , has not just continued the story of Khureshi Ab’raam alias Stephen Nedumpally but has ignited a larger debate. Beyond its grand cinematic experience, the film has managed to disturb certain factions, not because it tells lies, but because it dares to tell uncomfortable truths. The Fear of Truth? From its very first frames, Empuraan establishes itself as more than just a political thriller—it’s a commentary on power, corruption, and manipulation. It presents riots, political conspiracies, and systemic control not as religious conflicts but as carefully orchestrated power plays. Remember what mausi said in the movie? When a film brings up the Gujarat Riots, for example, why does it cause an uproar? What is there to hide? The fear is not about what is being said but about the possibility that people might sta...
Post a Comment
Read more

Name the Pain

  They came with laughter in their hands, With hearts like lanterns, glowing bright, To carve a moment out of time, Beneath the stars, beneath the light.   A mother’s prayer, a lover’s gaze, A child’s delight in winding roads, A dreamer’s pause where silence sang— All scattered now like fallen oaths.   A ring still warm upon a hand, A father’s hand, now cold, let go— Life torn away, so sudden, stark, Mid-laughter’s rise, mid-lover’s kiss.   What law of man, what claim to cause, Can stand where joy was laid so bare?  What twisted creed could sanctify The breaking of a breath so fair?   No faith commands this kind of fire, No flag flies high on bloodied peace This isn't faith, this isn’t right— No God would bless this kind of fight. So mourn we must, for lives now gone, But vow we shall, with burning cry: That never shall such horror reign, These tears will cost you far.   This terror has a name, a ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Echoes of a Fallen Crown

  As I sat on the plush velvet chair, waiting for my name to be called, the grandeur of the oath-taking ceremony blurred into the background. My heart should have been soaring; this was the moment I had dreamed of my entire life. Instead, it felt heavy, as if a stone had lodged itself in my chest. The hall was filled with the who's who of Indian politics, their faces painted with false smiles and calculated congratulations. Cameras flashed, reporters buzzed, and yet, I felt utterly alone. My name is Deepak Sukhwinder, the soon-to-be Chief Minister of Delhi. A title I fought for, sacrificed for. A title I now wear like a crown of thorns. As I leaned back, my thoughts began to wander, pulling me into the labyrinth of memories I’d tried so hard to suppress. My Abba’s voice echoed in my ears, deep and commanding, yet filled with warmth. “Deepak, Dilip, you two are the roots of this family tree. Stay united, no matter what storms come your way.” Abba and Mama were everything to us. They...
Post a Comment
Read more