Sukant Shandilya

  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 ...

  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...