home sweet home sweet home sweet...
It was a long longing wait. A wait, for reasons more than many.
When every morning meant a wait for the evening and every evening meant a promise – a promise to be, and with the fading twilight, began the wait for another morning.
As minutes ticked past giving way to the hours, the brightness of the sun only reflected the warmth of a moon glowing on the other side of earth.
The start of the day’s work, painted the drowsy tiredness of a late evening return from work.
The afternoon breeze warmed by the blazing sun, felt the chill of a midnight breeze cooled by the gloss of moon.
The vociferous luncheon audience, echoed the stillness of a sleepy silence of a wee hour morning.
The evening fatigue, radiated the weariness of a half-waken morning sleep.
The passive dinner and the half-remnant hunger, felt the satiation of a warm breakfast.
The night sleep, menacingly digested the complicated day.
After some toil, the losing glow of a valuable splendor has found its way back. When mornings became mornings again, and evenings became evenings.
Mohan Bhargava is back to where he belongs.
Yeh jo des hai mera, swades hai mera,
mujhe yeh pukara...
yeh woh bandhan hai jo kabhi toot nahin saktha...
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When every morning meant a wait for the evening and every evening meant a promise – a promise to be, and with the fading twilight, began the wait for another morning.
As minutes ticked past giving way to the hours, the brightness of the sun only reflected the warmth of a moon glowing on the other side of earth.
The start of the day’s work, painted the drowsy tiredness of a late evening return from work.
The afternoon breeze warmed by the blazing sun, felt the chill of a midnight breeze cooled by the gloss of moon.
The vociferous luncheon audience, echoed the stillness of a sleepy silence of a wee hour morning.
The evening fatigue, radiated the weariness of a half-waken morning sleep.
The passive dinner and the half-remnant hunger, felt the satiation of a warm breakfast.
The night sleep, menacingly digested the complicated day.
After some toil, the losing glow of a valuable splendor has found its way back. When mornings became mornings again, and evenings became evenings.
Mohan Bhargava is back to where he belongs.
Yeh jo des hai mera, swades hai mera,
mujhe yeh pukara...
yeh woh bandhan hai jo kabhi toot nahin saktha...