'A soul that bleeds ink instead of tears—
I write not just to express, but to echo the silences the world forgets to hear.
Rooted in nature, nurtured by emotion, I am a poet walking the fine line between reality and reverie.'                
                I asked for nothing but your voice, 
A whisper, a word, just a gentle choice.
In your light, I stood so still, 
Watching, waiting, with endless will.
                
...
            
                Today, as crossing the heart of the Brahmaputra, 
I saw more than water—
golden sunrays rippling on the surface, 
like a dream I had once wandered.
                
...
            

 
                    