Candid

  Add me to the group — I want to stay connected with virtually everyone. Aware of the latest trends and slang — let me in. Ancient to modern, and also the contemporary, I want to be with every genre and group. Admit me, and give me access to universal recognition — of the real-time and technology that changes with my every blink. Always an asset to the group, I shall never revolt. An atmosphere of continuous happenings baffles me — a mini-universe in its kind, functioning on flexible rules and stardom, attracting attention from strangers to respond and justify ethical choices. Amidst noise and chaos, if ever it arises from their views, then I will exit from the group. After a brief pause, I will join another group — where stars twinkle bright. AI , I am at the door — let me in.

  Perpetual Desires Desires are perpetual in nature, ranging in size from quantum to enormous. They beget passion, power , control , strength, money , and love . Desires turn naïve souls into monsters, never satisfied, always craving more. Perhaps the elixir of life on Earth is desire itself —undeniable, unrelenting. A life devoid of desire makes the very act of existence questionable. Unfulfilled desires leave their owner desire-deficit , yet he borrows new inspirations to nurture new desires. Just as economic transactions keep an economy alive, it is desire that keeps humankind dreaming, moving — reaching and becoming. Believe it or not, even the greatest hermit desires to find the divine . Desire to be read and appreciated — a poem's subtle longing also belongs to the poet's perpetual desires .

A poetic reflection on leadership, chaos and hope. The Pristein Ring Master   People gathered to witness the world’s oldest circus. At first, performers like fire breathers and jugglers brought delight, Aerialists — trapeze artists and acrobats — amazed the little ones with their flights. But soon, the strongman gave a stern look to the tightrope walker . The magician tried to douse the fire breather’s flame. The clowns — once beloved — entered the ring, And played the worst trumpet known to fame. Their friendly tussle turned too real, Peace, to them, was an unfunny deal. As with world leaders who, too, reject stillness, Addicted to noise, chaos, and the ringing of cash registers. Amid the uproar, the absence of the Ring Master was deeply felt. A cry rose from the crowd — where was he? Behind the dark curtains, a shadow stirred, And from it emerged the Ring Master, finally. With a whip crack and silent grace, Even the furious clowns froze in place. Normalcy returned, laughter r...

  From Yester to Froster Years ( This poem is inspired by the experience of using AI apps that show younger and older version of ourselves) The younger me and the older me — Charm of innocence and talks of wisdom. Mixed emotions of happiness and wiser me. Exactly what is true: that which is seen, or that which is heard? Poles apart, but it's an unrealistic version of the present. For a few moments, both past and future together — Isolating the present and sending it into doldrums. What do I love the most — is it the past or the future? Cuteness versus greyness — both are dear to me.

  Complexity reached its pinnacle When I realized the weight— The accumulation of compounding irrelevant life goals on me. Time slipped away, like soil in a sand clock. In search of an oasis of happiness , I found myself lost in the desert of comparison . Chasing material wealth and prosperity Brought only anxiety—never joy. But then came a quiet, simple realization: My original dreams still mattered. They brought meaning back to life. My intuition whispered, "It's time to return to your motherland — To live, learn, and work where your roots run deep. It’s payback time— To clear the debt you owe to the land that nurtured you.”