Poetry

  By Sabrina Munir   Going to the woods, running to the scenes  My mother is nurturing the blooming buds   The bare feet she lays on wild thorns gait  Scars...

MAHIVISH BHAT   They never liked my technique, But for it I could never speak. They always pointed the odds in me, But I stood in front of the...

MAHVISH BHAT   Now the sky is the same and I am the same. But what happened to me. I was a butterfly roaming in a garden. I still...