PHOTOGRAPHY

The streets of Chandni Chowk, Delhi.

On a highway to hell?! Or to heaven?!

In death, he gets shitted on by pigeons! And well, not many of us get a statue.

At the Golden Temple, Amritsar.

Why did we invent language?

To diminish boundaries, or the other way around?

All religion is serene;

It’s we the people, who’ve sort of forgotten

Why we created religion in the first place.

It’s us, always been us,

Who downgraded one religion, or the other;

Ours was always the better one.

We fought wars,

We conquered.

My infatuation with the university campus knows no bounds!

He’s gone; the Lord
He has left.
He’s in the mountains, alone.
He’s not looking down, nor up.
Not right or left.
He’s looking inside. Looking.
He’s smiling.
He’s sad, and angry. But not happy.
He’s smiling, the Lord.
He has left.
He’s in the mountains.

What do you do when you see your reflection;
Not in the water, or a mirror either. But
In a person.
Its almost like seeing a ghost.
What do you do then?
Reach out?
Try to grab it?
Talk to it?
Or do you scamper off in your closet? Scared.

They died here that day,
Died.
They did not do a noble deed,
No. They were not martyrs,
They were victims. Of some general’s desire
To implement, to enforce, to scare.
They were not martyrs.
Had you told them, they’d be killed for gathering in the bagh
They wouldn’t have arrived that day
I think.
I wouldn’t have had at least.

The glorious fields of Punjab

That’s what you do on HOLIday!

Spiderman!