While Life Keeps Moving

 While Life Keeps Moving

When the sky turns red,

and it is time for the sunrise,

step aside and watch the beauty.

Let your mind wander.

You may miss the train,

your day has already started,

and you know it is probably wrong

to pull yourself away from your journey

just for a glimpse.

Each journey can wait,

but common sense goes quiet

when your mind drifts away,

and even your body tells you,

“Stop… just stop and look.”

Then, sitting on the train,

watching each station fade away,

you regret it.

Why didn’t I stop?

Why didn’t I take that moment?

Will you live in the present?

Keep your presence of mind,

not your mind in the future.

Because the train will come again,

but that particular sunrise

may never come back.

Still Fetching -#80svibes

 Still Fetching

In the world of AI,

the 80s trend was flying,

all over the social world,

everyone was trying.

Thought I will play along,

and I too upload my pictures,

waited for my 80s glam,

with all the colours and mixtures.

But two strangers appeared,

with full of colours and style,

I gave another try,

but never got the same profile.

So I gave up,

as AI intelligence decided

that I am a Bollywood star,

and my 80s glam got divided!

I gave up on my 80s glam,

but I’m still fetching myself,

somewhere between input and output,

trying to find ourselves.

Before the Day Begins

 Before the Day Begins

In the early morning,

before the moon has finished his duty

and the sun is getting ready to take over,

the world is already quietly waking.

The train moves through the early darkness,

packed mostly with workers beginning another day.

Some carry their bags,

ready to freshen up and use the gym at the office.

Some are lost in their phones,

some are reading the morning news,

while others are still asleep,

trying to steal a few more moments of rest.

Different trains, different faces,

different stories passing through the morning.

The next train is packed too,

but this time, the silence is replaced by voices.

People are talking on their phones,

speaking in different languages,

turning the train into a small cultural centre

where many worlds meet in one place.

Each conversation carries a different story,

a different home,

a different way of seeing life.

The train moves forward,

filled with voices, languages and lives

travelling together for a little while.

Outside the train,

nature is beginning its own morning ritual.

The birds are slowly waking,

their first songs beginning to break the silence.

The foxes, having finished their night,

quietly disappear from sight,

hiding away before the busy world fully awakens.

Inside the train,

everyone is travelling towards something—

a job, a responsibility, a dream,

or simply another ordinary day.

And between the fading moon

and the approaching sun,

between different voices and waking birds,

a new day quietly begins.

No announcement.

No celebration.

Just life,

moving forward—

and me, quietly witnessing it,

one journey,

one morning,

one breath at a time.

Norway — Where Mountains Meet the Sea

 Norway — Where Mountains Meet the Sea

In this world of beauty,

Norway seems to stand still,

as if nature itself has paused

to admire her own creation.

The mountains rise proudly,

while the waters gently embrace them,

blending together as though

they were two lovers who have finally found each other.

The air carries their love,

and everyone who passes through

cannot help but stop, breathe deeply,

and fall in love with the scenery.

Sometimes the water breaks through the mountains,

showing the quiet power hidden beneath its calmness.

At other times, the mountains seem to hold the water

close to their hearts, protecting it like a precious secret.

And then come the clouds—

soft, shy and full of wonder.

Perhaps even they feel a little embarrassed

by the beauty of this love below,

so they gently cover the mountains

with their beautiful white embrace.

Norway is not simply a place to see.

It is a place to feel—

where mountains, water, clouds and air

come together in a love story written by nature itself.

Home in My Dreams

 Home in My Dreams

In the world of dreams, I am a dreamer,
Walking through gardens bright and fair,
Where every creature lives in peace,
And love flows gently everywhere.

No suffering, hatred, fear, or pain,
No jealousy, no need to roam,
Some may call this place heaven,

I simply call it home. ❤️🌿🦋🐦🐕🌸

The Broken Beads

 

The beads were broken,
scattered one by one,
and I began to mend them,
slowly, patiently,
one piece at a time.

Perhaps the thread had snapped.
Perhaps glue was all that could hold them together.
Perhaps I had to change the design completely.

But somehow,
in the spaces between the broken pieces,
a different kind of beauty began to shine.

The broken beads were not thrown away.
They were mended.
Rearranged.
Held together in a new way.

And strangely,
the story I received from my Guru
felt as though he had read my mind.

I had been carrying the Astral Bar in my thoughts,
holding on to something that felt beautiful and untouched,
until life, and the weight of work,
slowly frayed the thread that held it together.

Broken by the job that held me.
Mended by the Guru who told me.

Perhaps that is what life is sometimes:

not returning the beads
to exactly how they were before,

but finding a new thread
and learning how to string them together again
in a different pattern.

And the mended beads seem to laugh,
not because they have forgotten
that they were broken,

but because they survived.

No one looking at them
may ever know what they went through,
or how many times they nearly fell apart.

They only see the beauty
of the beads still holding together,

never the broken thread
that taught them how to shine.

The Garden Within

​

In this busy little garden,

everything struggles to grow.

Every plant wants its own space,

yet the roots have nowhere to go.

They cluster together,

reaching, searching, trying to survive,

each one fighting for a little room

beneath the crowded soil.

Every year I tell myself,

“Not too many this time.”

But somehow, I plant again,

and once more the garden becomes a crowded life.

Maybe it’s a habit.

Maybe it’s simply who we are—

always wanting to grow,

even when there isn’t much room.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

For now, let the roots find their way,

let the garden grow as it will,

and until then, 

live your life.