Those who speak do not know, those who know are silent,
I heard this saying from the old gentleman.
If the old gentleman was one who knew the way,
Why
I'm enmeshed in a strange fix.
My ability to hate intensely,
Has begun to weaken by the day.
— Kunwar Narayan, Ek Ajib si Mushkil
Me Lord
We really don't need such a season,
That keeps converting dreams of commons –
Into common cemeteries.
Ever present high wind
Sweeps the fog in Blocking all that is dear to the eyes.
There is a lull, the air rests.
The fog remains.
–Gujarati poet Sitanshu Yashchandra
Perspective 1
According to one view, the new year's blasts in a Dhaka park and the killings of paramilitary along the Indo-Bangla border were part of a design
