My stream of thoughts

                   The Roar of Nature’s Spirit Through winding roads and rich, luminescent pathways That pave our sight through bright drops of sun, The forests of India stand tall past mud and clay, Archaic, lush, and dense, with countless stories unsung. Roars, screeches, chirps, and the voices of winds Echo and set the forests into a dream that clasps. And yet our minds, both virtually and truly, overflow With every kind of sound and image that grasps. Sounds and vivid images, and hazes of green Blur our senses in a shifting screen. Yet, there comes a throb in its very heart and soul, A shudder in its spirit that pounds in our ears— Of felines, of canines, of the youngest of foals and moles, Gliding along tree trunks and caves where the bear sleeps near. Saws whirr on, driven by tired, uncaring hands, Making branches jitter and tremble in spasms. Axes fill the forest with bellows of protest for hours, From trees and beasts whose homes...

                                   A Massacre t o a War When terror overwhelms a land's peaceful valleys, Their haven is threatened with losses unimaginable. Bodies strewn across the earth's temple- Its indescribable How the legionaries gather at their rallies. Vengeance follows by the harmed removing resources suppliable, Civilians understanding that the opposer was unable, Its power deducted- yet, shadows remain in the alleys... Could it have lost the strife to retort? Or had it decided to cause unrighteous fright? Planning ambushes in daylight, the horrid land tries to regain the limelight- As the country of truth strategizes and builds its own plot. Trickery traps the terrorizers- the foe loses sight, Seeing as how its formidable enemy presents true might. War begans, the threatener without a retreating resort. Failing a third time to corner the valiant forces, This country is assisted by a ...

Just another environmental poem...                         Craters and Creation        The Earth, now a satellite, Lies within an orbit of demolition. Dark, damp, free of light, A land of craters without endearing creation. Ores once rich, filled with earthen soul, Copious sources now a cavity deep. With shallow minds that carve out coal, Humans meander like mares at sleep. One-eyed without humility, agonizing with every day, Making every life lean and choke with terror. Clenching their jaws, mankind's generosity at bay, The true beings are trapped in a swirl of horror. The beings' minds pulled clean, fire conjured in their eyes, As the flames set around us become their own. A blame shifts, hearts betrayed cold with ice- Humans are the emperors in the lands they disown. - Sahana Raghuraman Note: Here, I am emphasizing the negative effect so that it would have an impact on people's minds.

    The Raving Flail Prologue: There it lay, inside the sleek glass structure looking much like a coffin to the eyes of my sister. But it was not dead, nor alive- an undead, pulsing weapon, the elders say, that had conjured up the most annihilating of powers. Centuries ago, it was used by the patron of the village to banish the corrupt, recurring shadows of beings that had once dominated the lands. All was well, until the weapon could stand it no longer. It had banished its own share of souls, and needed one measly soul, just one, to extend the nature of its powers. The weapon had made no mistake until then, but, according to the interpretation of the historians, the greed of its owner had influenced it to such an extent that it decided to use the soul of its very owner to quench its thirst for power. The weapon, sup...

                      A Diary of greed Alas! From a thirsty miser, to a haughty, yet rich man who only understood how to ta ke and not give, I am now a worthless wretch who aba ndoned all his properties. My once reckless life of fame is still unforgotten, still shamed by many. That very fame was rewarded to me by my greed for money, and yet, that was the very greed that took my life away from me. As I rot on this isolated piece of land, trying to escape the ghost of my old life, and all who I owe my money to, I felt the need to explain how I ended up this way. Let me break down the story of my life, sentence by sentence, after which you will be able to understand how corrupting money can be...                           A POEM OF GREED An incredible family, deficit of corruption, Blacksmiths, working at fire, from midnight to dawn, Hands black from the soot, barely able...

Kolli Hills And the Myths Within:   W e made our journey into the Mariamman temple, spotting, at the foot of the steps, nothing but a thatched hut. Yet, that was what we had in mind, until we saw a figure who would make the bones of rakshasas chill to the marrow and yet increase faith in her devotees: Mariamman herself, teeth painted on the sides of her mouth and eyes that watched us with mysterious intent. Climbing the steps to reach the actual temple, we wondered how there could be two figures of her at the same place. Holding that thought, we saw her other figure, with her having such fearsome eyes that they looked right through our spirit. Yet, that is true for only those who fear her; those who do not will never feel the same way. The body was missing, not unlike many other Amman temples, proving that she did not need even strength to protect us- only her sight and her mystical powers. This, however, was not the only incident that stood in my mind. Something else happened as w...