Posts

Baba

Image
  Baba Baba, how is it up there? Do you touch the stars and talk to magical bears? Do you still scold everyone around you? Do you go on long walks and pick fallen coconuts? Do you read poetry aloud? And Do you still feel confident while being on stage narrating and giving your advices? Do you still tell people about the Mithila you wrote about? How is it up there? Do you drink the elixir? Do you write books at night? And eat curd after every meal in delight? Does the moon greet you every morning? Do the people make you angry without any warning? Do you still crave lemons with your meal? No spoons provided, is it still a huge deal? How is it up there? Is there love and care? Or is it filthy like down here? Do you talk about your elder grandson with your new friends? Or do you secretly watch over me as the day ends? Are you proud of me as a failed guy but never stopped? Overjoyed at all the misfortunes l've overcome? How is it up there? What do you all wear? Silk robes or glistering ...
Post a Comment
Read more

She, the Divine Gift

Image
  She, the Divine Gift She was born as a gift of divinity— A flame of grace, of courage, of infinity. Crafted with care by the hands of creation, Destined to shine, a celestial incarnation. Yet you, with your hunger for power and control, Lured her light, dismayed her body, crushed her soul. She was to rise, the supreme authority, But you chained her strength with toxic masculinity. Her voice once echoed with wisdom and pride, Now muffled beneath the weight you applied. Her resolution, her fierce capability— Fell victim to your outrageous atrocity. She is the epitome of altruistic love, A reflection of the sacred, sent from above. A magnanimous vessel of consummate morality, Still taught to nurture in unjust reality. She is the creator—the origin of life, A protector in chaos, a balm to all strife. Yet you made her worth a battleground, Stripping her rights without a sound. You label her fragile while fearing her might, For her spirit still burns, fierce and bright. She walks throu...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Weight He Wore

Image
  The Weight He Wore He wore it like a shadowed coat, Invisible, but heavy. They laughed and called him lucky once— He smiled, barely, maybe. “No way it hurt,” they’d joke aloud, But silence told a tale, Of shattered trust, and frozen time, Behind a silent veil. He didn’t bleed the way they thought, But pain still found its way. A secret kept for far too long— Afraid of what they’d say. But strength, it grows in quiet ways, In breaking down the wall. He speaks now not for pity’s sake— But just to stand at all. Sukant Shandilya 18th April 2025
Post a Comment
Read more

A Predator’s Confession, A Society’s Reflection

Image
                                             A Predator’s Confession, A Society’s Reflection!! It was 10 PM, late at night, She walked alone, within my sight. I caught her hand, gripped her tight— To possess her, that felt right. She screamed, she struggled, tried to flee, But what she had, belonged to me. I’m a man, with burning fire, And she had what feeds desire. So I took it—yes, I did. Her fear? Her pain? I closed the lid. Her voice meant nothing to my pride, Her “no” was something I pushed aside. And then I blamed her, loud and clear: “She asked for it—what was she doing here?” In those clothes, with that stride, No man could ever be denied. Her honour? Please, don’t speak that name. She owns her grief, she bears the shame. After all, I walk away— Free and proud— While she hides in dismay. And that’s the world we live in today. Sukant Shandilya 15th April 2025
Post a Comment
Read more

Bangles, Bindis, and Broken Dreams!!

Image
  Bangles, Bindis, and Broken Dreams!! I still remember that day— Fate played its cruelest game. In a moment, her world shattered, And nothing was ever the same. The pink bangles on her fragile wrists Were crushed, broken without care, Each shard a symbol of dreams That vanished into air. The red bindi, once proudly worn, Was wiped from her tender brow, A mark of joy and union Erased by fate somehow. All colours fled her sorrowed soul, Except for mournful white, A ghostly cloak she’d wear for years, Through day and endless night. White would stay, a silent scream Through childhood’s stolen grace, And haunt her steps into a youth She'd never fully face. Drained of laughter, robbed of choice, She bore tradition's knife— Marked and mourned, avoided, scorned, A burdened, broken life. Not a girl, not yet a woman, But a shadow of what might be— A child widow, lost and free. Sukant Shandilya 10th April 2025
Post a Comment
Read more

UEFA Champions League. Footballer's Anthem.

Image
UEFA Champions League. Footballer's Anthem. UEFA Champions League: Where Legends Are Made and Dreams Come Alive There’s just something about Champions League nights, isn’t there? The floodlights. The roaring crowds. That iconic anthem that sends chills down your spine. For football fans around the world, the UEFA Champions League (UCL) is the ultimate stage. It’s where the best of the best face off, where underdogs rise, and where unforgettable football stories are written. A Tournament Like No Other Let’s be real—nothing compares to the Champions League. Sure, domestic leagues are great, and international tournaments are exciting, but the UCL hits different. It brings together the elite clubs from all over Europe and throws them into high-stakes battles that leave fans breathless. And it’s been that way for a long time. Since 1955, when it was known as the European Cup, the competition has been serving up drama and magic. It officially became the Champions League in 1992, and ever...
1 comment
Read more

Suicide After Cyberbullying.

Image
 He who was clinged onto something. Something not all were able to see, And hear those deafening cries. A cry for support and help. Which he never received. Why is it that people becomes so blind That by only listening only one side they shut their eyes, their ears, And become so oblivious? Those whom he called friends Were also the ones Who didn't come forward. Family who couldn't see The dying of the son day by day. At last somewhere he went From where he cannot return. Where is he? Nobody knows. The cliff where he was at, In a world where every thing is done without knowing any cause? Where "social media" where every one gets a platform to speak, he was left with nothing? Became a rapist over night, being called a rapist by ten million people, people giving him threats? That oblivious undiscovered truth was like a crucifixion. As this is our society, there was no right to call an accuse by something which wasn't even proved. It was very obvious to support that ...
Post a Comment
Read more