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Why does Krishna collect champaka flowers for my beloved’s breast-garland? When his hands tremble, I know he still remembers me—his tremble is my riva...
Is there a place where the sun never sets? The poor chakravāka bird, scared of the night, asks every day. A symbol of constant yearning and fear of se...
A priceless gem, discarded by villagers who couldn’t grasp its value—alas! The merchant grieves, having held a treasure in hand and lost it to ignoran...
When her eyes reach the ears, and her breasts push forward, if the feet falter, blame not the body—it’s not her fault. A sensual and comic expression ...
“How did Menā give her daughter to an aged ascetic?” ask the women. Shiva, dressed as a beggar, marries Parvati—concealing his divine form. A verse pl...
Even the smallest topic leads to long romantic conversations—“Where, when, what did he say, when will he return?”—illustrating how love magnifies even...
“I stand unmoving, breathless, by just seeing your form—how then do others who drink your nectar-kisses survive?” A passionate declaration of awe at b...
While speaking about her beloved, night slipped away unnoticed. As morning dawned, even the eastern sky seemed red-faced like a co-wife jealous of her...
Those who have tasted the essence of poetry cannot enjoy shallow stories, just as musk-deer don’t nibble on grass when enchanted by scent.
She lives only till the tear-stained line on her hand fades—counting days since her beloved left. Time and pain are etched on her palm.
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