Wednesday, February 02, 2011


With laser eyes, my paradise open to me,
With hungry eyes, I savour the words given me.
Little did I know how much I am grateful
Until I had to write a few lines about you.

The smell of books- new, fresh, musty, old,
The thirst of knowledge, ancient, new,
A plethora of tongues give us news
Of what happens around in the world.

A familiar terrain when fraught with doubt,
When dumped with work from all around,
A haunt of silence and discipline,
A place to complete education.

For contemplation or for distraction,
You still are to me my inspiration. 


In a way, each story has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again- the fire and the smiles and t...