Sandip's Blog

In a bright noon light; Young chap on my sight; Standing under a squared-door-frame; He calls by my name. Then after, I dream of - Quorum of a crush, Revised verse of lush, Nausea articulating in pain, Ideal but still a vain. Instantly, He bows down on my feet, Blessings is all he wants on his greet, Gospel truth of native fellow, Midday fantasy turning yellow.

My solo reaction, With solo opposition. A chatter-box babbling, With trial pleading. A robust hero - is a slave of antiquity. is a living history. is a true enemy. Solo leader patrolling on the street, Belonging to others is one's main spirit. Then comes the exceptional seldom, Caged warfare of self freedom.