Tag _poetry
The winter sun had barely rolled over the mustard fields of Majitha when Biji began her campaign. “Wake up, Kaka! Guru Purab hai aaj!” she declared, shaking her youngest grandson with the determination of a general. The boy groaned, dragged the quilt tighter, and mumbled something about waking up for langar later. But there was … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
On a monsoon evening in Mumbai, the city pulsed like a living organism — glass towers breathing light, sea wind tangling through the flyovers, people moving as if time itself was chasing them. Aarav Mehta, 32, architect, rationalist, and certified agnostic, stood at the window of his 17th-floor apartment, watching the clouds swallow the skyline. &#... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Let me be today... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
“I cannot be bound; I must keep moving.” Samir murmurs to himself, feeling the familiar cool beads of his tasbih as he steps into the gentle moonlight of dawn. He walks slowly, feeling no need to hurry. He understands that he doesn’t need to go anywhere fast; he has everything he needs right here. Samir … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
In the heart of bustling Karachi, Azaan, a successful tech entrepreneur, lived a life filled with deadlines, meetings, and constant pressures. Though he had all the trappings of modern success—wealth, recognition, and a growing company—he felt a deep sense of restlessness. His days were consumed by the chase for more, but at night, he often …... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Amara knew something was missing. She was drowning in her work, moving from one task to another like a cog in an endless machine. Her ideas were sound, her work flawless, yet she felt like a shadow in her own career. When her boss dropped a ticket to the city’s annual leadership conference on her … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Amit had been living in the U.S. for over a decade. His life was a blur of conference calls, boardroom deals, and endless emails. He was successful by all measures—big job, fancy apartment, and yet, despite it all, something gnawed at him. Every achievement felt hollow, every victory fleeting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
He catches up with her after a long day at work. No words, just smiles. They’re driving through the city streets, heading home. The road is smooth, the air is cool. The engine hums softly, and the city lights flicker around them. These drives are their meditation. Just being close to each other and feeling … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
“You should give one last try,” Arjun said gently. Anaya, a Sufi woman with a kind heart, had a medical condition. She had worked with doctors for many years but ultimately found peace in her prayers. She was never disappointed. Anaya had a very dear and close friend, Arjun. He always encouraged her to try … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Karachi is a city of contradictions—a glittering skyline overshadowing crowded slums, whispers of power echoing through its dusty streets. And in this cauldron of ambition, corruption, and survival, one man became a thorn in the side of Karachi’s so-called “kings.” Arif Saeed wasn’t just any bureaucrat. He was a disruptor, a man who wal... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Baylor University boasts a claim to fame that has nothing to do with its football team. The world’s largest collection of works pertaining to the Victorian poets Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning reside in the elegant Armstrong Browning Library. The … Continue read... mehr auf myrahmcilvain.wordpress.com
In the city’s heart, ‘neath monoliths so tall, Layla sought the truth, beyond the library’s wall. “Knowledge, are you bound in books upon my shelf? Or are you something more, a part of our own self?” Whispers of the ancients, through her soul, they sweep, Sufi wisdom calls, awakening from sleep. “Seek not in page... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
The storms get stronger, intense, and with it, the sun too became hotter, warmer but that was the consolation. You don’t get to see someone who is sitting quietly, happily in the chisht, confines. He doesn’t need you. You need it by all means. Show the gratefulness, a hundred names & the traits. How the … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
“Tell me what’s wrong with you!” he shouted, frustration etched on his face. She looked at him calmly, sipping her tea, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Their drawing room, filled with lush plants and warm sunlight, felt like a serene sanctuary, but tension buzzed in the air. Every day, she seemed … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Sharmishtha shouted, “Cut! Cut! Cut! What’s going on there?” The college’s annual day was just around the corner, and the Senior Grade was busy rehearsing their drama. It was the top college in Delhi, buzzing with excitement. The drama team was a mix of boys and girls, all young and full of energy. They were … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
(A Story in the Shape of Silence) There is nothing left to name. Not sky, not stone, not the soft collapse of time in the lungs of the forgotten.At the top—where memory frostbites into static—I amandnot. The silence here is not silence.It is textured, thick, a hush stretched taut across the bone-white skin of the … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Night falls softly over Delhi, and the air grows fragrant with rose petals and attar. In the hallowed courtyard of Hazrat Nizamuddin’s dargah, lanterns shimmer, and the crowd gathers—a river of seekers flowing to the ocean of love. It is urs, the time of remembrance. The marble glows, alive with silent prayers. On a humble … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Arjun and Meera shared a unique bond. They were not just friends; they were two Sufis, connected by their love for the divine and the endless sea. On weekends, they loved to sit by the ocean at Marine Drive in Mumbai. They would watch the waves and feel the gentle breeze, losing themselves in the … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Amira was furiously typing on her laptop, frustration clear on her face. “Why does no one notice my 9 PM posts about how much I love Sufis?” she muttered to herself. Just then, her murshid, a wise and gentle Sufi man, entered the room. Seeing Amira’s distress, he asked, “What’s troubling you, my dear?” Amira … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
In the bustling streets of Konya, there walked a man whose steps held mysteries—Shams of Tabriz. He carried no wealth, wore no robe of prestige, yet he was adorned with an inner fire that no storm could dim. People whispered his name as if it were a forbidden chant. Shams, they said, was not like … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
Azaan wasn’t supposed to be in Peshawar. His firm in Multan had sent him to oversee a high-profile restoration project—a rare decision in a world obsessed with glass-and-steel buildings. An old estate in the heart of the city, once home to poets and traders, was finally getting the care it deserved. That’s when he met … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
