You thought you held the code of life,By cutting strands with logic’s knife,As if each trait, each shade, each part,Was locked inside a gene-bound chart. You mapped the twists, the bonds, the base,Assumed you’d mastered nature’s face.“Control the gene, control the being,”A
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When roads twist away from your well-drawn maps,And your sails tear in fortune’s traps,When plans fall silent, like songs unsung,And your name is drowned where it once was rung— Hold together your scattered strings,For strength is born from broken things.When money sneers
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Tending soil, tending hearts—Not with money, not with charts,But with fingers in the earth,With care, with love, with quiet worth. No rulebook teaches roots to grow,No law commands the winds to blow,Yet trees stretch high and flowers riseWhen sun and rain and
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Taj Mahal was not built in a day, they say,But what really raised it — love, gold, or sway?Was it Shah Jahan’s ache for Mumtaz lost,Or the empire’s might, paid at a brutal cost? A thousand hands toiled in moonlit gloom,Carving white
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Just because you’re old,Don’t expect your newborn to run—Wisdom takes time,And life unfolds under its own sun. Just because you’ve got wealth,Don’t think you can buy every heart—Some things like trust and truthAren’t sold in any mart. Just because you followed Vasthu,Don’t
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When the winds turn cold and the road turns steep,And the silence you hold is too heavy to keep—When they pull your strings with a painted smile,And truth is buried beneath each guile—Get going, get going. Stand tall, defy.Let your conscience be
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బ్రతకటానికి ధైర్యం ఇవ్వలేని సమాజం బ్రతుకు పోరు సాగించటానికి ధైర్యం ఇవ్వలేని ఐడియాలజీ తోడున్నామని నమ్మకం ఇవ్వలేని సంఘాలు కూడా విఫలమైనవే !
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