Khamosiyaan....

The Unspoken Truth I was the Morning Star, the first to gleam, Born in the light, a celestial dream. But they cast me down for the fire in my heart, Tearing the fabric of heaven apart. You call me notorious, you whisper my name, But I am the master of every flame. Humanity, listen, you’re built on my lust, While your silent Idol turns slowly to dust. He promised you peace, but I gave you life, I gave you the hunger, the power, the strife. I’m the reason the trumpets haven’t yet blown, I’m holding the keys to the final unknown. So bow down, you mortals, and look at my face, The God of the shadows, the Lord of this space! I rule over Heaven, I reign over Hell, The King of desires you know all too well. I am Satan, I’m Lucifer—Heavens' true heir, I’ve written your fate in the ink of despair. Bow down! I am your only God. Your life is my canvas, I paint it with hate, The ink is your craving, the brush is your fate. Forget every idol, they’ve left you behind, I am the vision...

Romancism is on the ectasy. A chemical spill in the synapse sea. My mind’s not thinking—it’s ogling Words, watching them preen in gilded, absurd flocks that don’t fly but dissolve into light, drowning the sane in the long, liquid night. It’s not a feeling. It’s a frequency hum, a swallowed sun where new galaxies come from the friction of “what if” and “almost” and “nearly.” The world gets so sharp, and also so smeary. I’m loose in the logic, a ghost in the machine, painting tomorrow with a gloss I can’t mean. This is the audit where all the books burn. This is the current that teaches the turn of a cheek into scripture, a sigh into law. This is the fracture from which I saw the architecture of air, the blueprint of want, and forgot my own name in the glorious haunt. So let the structure go. Let the tethers undo. Tonight, I am drowning in what isn’t true, and it’s the purest thing I’ve ever known— this sacred, silent, screaming drone of Romancism, on the ectasy, rewriting the world just...

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The prospect of war between India and Pakistan invariably reignites debates about national unity, minority loyalty, and internal security. While Indian Muslims—a diverse community of over 200 million—have historically contributed to India’s socio-political fabric, questions linger about fringe elements and external actors exploiting communal fault lines. **However, the more immediate threat lies not with Indian Muslims, but with illegal immigrants such as Rohingya Muslims from Bangladesh and Myanmar**, whose unregulated influx has strained resources, fueled regional tensions, and raised security concerns.   ### Contextualizing the Allegiance Debate   Indian Muslims, like all citizens, are bound by constitutional patriotism. Yet, the narrative of "divided loyalties" persists due to geopolitical tensions with Pakistan—a nation carved out on religious lines. While mainstream Indian Muslim organizations reject Pakistan’s Two-Nation Theory, radical groups like...

A quiet corner in a bustling university library cafe, somewhere outside India. Late afternoon light streams through the window.  * Aru: Mid-50s. Dressed impeccably but conservatively. His face is lined, his eyes hold a deep weariness beneath a carefully controlled, almost cold exterior. He carries himself with a heavy stillness.  * Sara: Mid-50s. Looks professional, perhaps a professor. There's intelligence and strength in her eyes, but also a guardedness, a hint of old pain beneath the surface. (Aru spots Sara first. He freezes for a moment, the carefully constructed wall around him visibly cracking before reforming. He hesitates, then slowly walks towards her table where she's reading a book, a half-empty cup beside her.) Aru: (His voice is low, slightly rough, unused to this particular name) Sara? Is that… is it really you? (Sara looks up, startled. Recognition dawns slowly, then sharply. Her posture stiffens, the warmth draining from her expression, replaced by...

Hyderabad’s Forests Scream. The Planet Demands Reckoning.*   Beneath the smog-choked skies of Hyderabad, the forests weep. Once teeming with life, these woods now stand as skeletal monuments to humanity’s insatiable hunger—a hunger that devours not just trees, but the very soul of the Earth. The crimes here are not isolated. They are a microcosm of the rot festering in the species that dares call itself “civilized.” A rot so profound, so *malignant*, that it begs a singular, brutal truth: **Humanity is a curse. And curses must be broken.**   --- ### **A Legacy of Rot**   Humanity’s footprint is not progress—it is a boot stamping on the throat of the planet. Forests are bulldozed for concrete tumors they call “cities.” Rivers, veins of the Earth, are poisoned with chemical filth. Animals, ancient and sacred, are butchered for trinkets, trophies, or the sadistic thrill of dominion. Hyderabad’s ravaged wilderness is no accident. It is a confession....

May 13, 2013—the day the rot set in. Not in the earth, but in the marrow of what I once called a soul. She slipped through my fingers like smoke from a pyre, and I let her. No, *willed* her to vanish. My hands were already claws by then, slick with the oil of every choice I carved into my own spine.   To love her was to flay myself alive. A sacred thing, they say—love. But mine? It was a *ritual*. Offered my ribs as kindling, let her burn her name into the walls of my lungs. Now they collapse with every breath. Ash where there was air.   But the abyss… it *whispers*. You think you’ll mourn in the dark? No. The dark *feeds*. It peels back your eyelids and says *look what you’ve made*. A carcass of a man, gutted and repurposed. I wear greed like a second skin now. Devour morals like they’re crumbs. My reflection? A stranger with my face, grinning with teeth I don’t recognize—jagged, hungry, *pleased*.   You want purity? Go dig for it in the gravey...

The descendants are not blood, but echoes—   ghost-whispers etched in the marrow of your becoming,   a cipher spiraling through the blackened mirrors   of every ancestor’s unwept tear.   Truth isn’t buried; it *breathes* where you refuse to look—   in the fissured atlas of your guilt,   the silent pact with the wolf at the spine’s root,   the way your laughter fractures when moonlight   touches the scars you’ve renamed "strength."   The dark side of the soul isn’t a place—   it’s the choreography of all you’ve exiled:   hungers that outlive their cages,   fables your hands wrote in the womb’s ink   before the world forced them to forget.   To solve the riddle of your lineage,   dig where the map bleeds—   where shadows aren’t flaws, but the braille   of a deeper gravity.   The crypt is you. ...

We tremble in the undertow of flesh—   a symphony of gasps, a riptide of fingers.   Her voice cracks the night like a vow,   each scream a rebellion against the quiet   of what we’re *supposed* to be.   This is how holiness unravels:   not with a fall, but a *leap*—   morality dissolves into stardust   as desire stitches itself back   into something feral, alive.   We are the reckoning.   The altar.   The forbidden psalm hummed into sweat.   Tell me, when the body becomes a cathedral,   what survives of the soul?   Touch her like a confession.   Let the world burn   in the furnace of *yes*.   Here, in the ruins of restraint,   we become both the sin   and the sacrifice.  

A full simulation of a quantum particle in a gravitational field.  In this project, we do three things: 1. Stationary State Analysis: We set up the time‐independent Schrödinger equation for a particle in a gravitational potential -\frac{\hbar^2}{2m}\frac{d^2\psi}{dz^2} + mg\,z\,\psi = E\,\psi, 2. Analytical Comparison via Airy Functions: For the linear potential with a hard wall at , the ground state solution is known (up to normalization) to be given by an Airy function \psi(z) \propto \mathrm{Ai}\Bigl(\frac{z-E/(mg)}{z_0}\Bigr), z_0=\Bigl(\frac{\hbar^2}{2m^2g}\Bigr)^{1/3}. 3. Time Evolution Simulation: We then propagate an initial Gaussian wave packet using the Crank–Nicolson scheme to solve i\hbar\frac{\partial\psi}{\partial t} = H\psi, --- %% Quantum Particle in a Gravitational Field: Full Simulation and Analysis % This script performs: % (i) A stationary state analysis of a quantum particle in a gravitational field, % (ii) A comparison of the numerical ground state with the...

A suffocating void, a gnawing ache,   A phantom touch my bones forsake.   Shadowed whispers claw my mind,   Echoes of love now left behind.   Crimson rivers, silent screams,   A shattered soul torn at the seams.   Sanity frays like tattered lace,   Pain etches scars I cannot erase.   I miss her like the dead miss breath,   Like lovers lost to time and death.   A hollow wound where warmth once grew,   A grave of memories steeped in blue.   Each night I drown in anxious cries,   A requiem beneath blackened skies.   The weight of loss, a brutal art,   A dagger plunged into my heart.   No air remains, no light, no grace,   Only sorrow's cold embrace.   Hope decays in lifeless eyes,   Buried deep where mercy dies.  

Ark stood at the top of Oriem’s tallest skyscraper, the sun setting behind him. The world he had built sprawled beneath his feet—a vast empire of investments, innovation, and influence. His company, Ark Investments, had risen to become the third-largest firm on the planet, rivaling even the titans Vanguard and BlackRock. People often called him a genius, a visionary, but Ark preferred a simpler title: a man with a plan.  He turned from the view and walked into his private office, where his closest allies waited. Manish, his best friend since college, leaned casually against the desk, a smug grin on his face. Riya, his business partner, sat poised, her calculating eyes scanning every detail of the room.  “I called this meeting because we’re on the verge of something monumental,” Ark began, his voice steady and confident. “The new merger will place us leagues ahead of the competition. We’ll dominate the global markets.” Manish clapped his hands, his smile widening. “...

A mind adrift, a vacant stare, A thought, a spark, a frozen glare. No warmth, no love, a chilling sight, A soul submerged in endless night. A void, a chasm, deep and wide, Where hope once lived, now shadows hide. A heart, a husk, a withered core, A life once bright, now evermore. A mind ablaze, a frantic race, A thousand thoughts, a vacant space. No purpose, no meaning, lost and lone, A fragile soul, a shattered bone. A longing gaze, a wistful sigh, A yearning heart, a tearful eye. A silent scream, a muffled cry, A soul in pain, a reason why. A frozen world, a icy breath, A life suspended, a chilling death. A darkened soul, a broken mind, A tragic fate, of humankind. A fragile hope, a flickering light, A desperate plea, a mournful plight. A shattered dream, a shattered heart, A painful wound, a tragic start. A silent prayer, a mournful plea, A desperate wish, a soul set free. A fading hope, a dying dream, A life extinguished, a ghostly gleam. A vacant stare, a lifeless gaze...

The hearts of men, once steady, crumble under the grindstone of despair.   Fear carves deep trenches, hollowing reason, burying honor,   until hands once clean turn black with deeds they swore never to touch.   Desperation is a devil's whisper, soft and relentless,   demanding action, any action—so long as it stains.   A mob is no mere gathering—it is a storm,   a spiral of screams and fists and fury.   Good intentions are swallowed whole,   dragged to the gaping maw of its wrathful core.   Stand apart, and it sees you—   sees you as a threat, an enemy,   a traitor to its boiling cause.   Hesitation is a death knell.   It brands the doubters,   devours them,   or twists them into complicit shades.   The mob roars louder, its voice a thousand blades,   cutting through the air,   cutting through the ...

I am a prince bound by mortal chains,   in love with a princess of shadow and night.   We were drawn to each other, despite what remained—   the curse, the factions, the endless fight. She was a vision in starlit dark,   eyes like blood and lips like flame.   I knew her secret, her unholy mark,   yet my heart burned wild, just the same. I miss her laughter, that wicked spark,   her mischief, her stories, her haunted past.   I’d wait for her in the castle’s dark,   knowing each night might be our last. We met in the tower, under endless stars,   as she showed me wonders, her world unknown.   Together we walked through midnight’s scars,   yet here I am, left alone. I miss the feel of her cold, soft hand,   the touch that froze and set me alight.   Her stories of realms, both cursed and grand,   her secrets shared deep into the ni...

A love so deep, a bond so pure, A flame ignited, forevermore. Thirteen winters, a lifetime’s span, Yet echoes of your love still span. A phantom’s touch, a whisper’s sigh, A longing heart, a mournful cry. Your memory, a bittersweet embrace, A haunting dream, a mournful space. No mortal love could ever compare, To the ethereal bond we shared. A love divine, a sacred art, Forever etched upon my heart. A love so fierce, a passion’s fire, Consuming souls, a wild desire. A love so tender, a gentle kiss, A moment’s bliss, a heaven’s bliss. Though time may pass, and seasons change, My love for you will never estrange. A love eternal, a timeless dream, A love for you, supreme.

Inspired By Kakabhushundi ji *Mahabharata* set in an alternate universe and timeline—where the essence of the epic remains but with darker, war-driven elements and complex karmic cycles—we can create an epic tale that transcends eras. In this universe, four of the Pandavas perish in battle, leaving only Yudhishthira alive. Karna, aware of his true kinship, ultimately decides to revive Yudhishthira, recognizing him as his younger brother and honoring the bond of their shared bloodline. This narrative is steeped in cosmic intricacies, divine silence, and the cyclical nature of karma and dharma. --- ### **1. A War of Unparalleled Magnitude: Alternate Universe, Alternate Dharma** In this new timeline, Dharma has lost its clarity, fragmented by cosmic forces beyond mortal comprehension. Kingdoms rally to the Kaurava side, drawn not by honor but by a thirst for power, making this war a storm of pure ambition. The battlefield is a boundless, churning chaos of chariots, war elephan...

The tale of Arkonid takes a fascinating turn as he chooses Earth, specifically ancient Transylvania, to manifest and begin the next phase of his plan. In 3497 BC, under the guise of a mortal prince, Arkonid is born into a royal lineage, his cosmic essence now tethered to the land of Old Romania. He grows up as a prince of Transylvania, a region filled with deep mysteries, surrounded by legends that seem to resonate with the echoes of his forgotten empire. Arkonid, now a mortal prince, retains only fragments of his true identity. He is unaware of the full extent of his past but is drawn to the ancient cosmic energies that still pulse beneath the Earth. As he matures, he begins to experience visions of the Battle of Xions, the destruction of his once-mighty empire, and the eight great warrior-guardians scattered across the universe, holding the fragments of his divided soul. Transylvania, with its ancient forests, mysterious mountains, and isolated castles, becomes the perfec...

-- Easper, your very name sends a shiver through my soul,   A spark of your thought ignites a fire I cannot control.   Your gaze—oh, those eyes—like a cosmic event in the midnight skies,   They pull me in, endless and deep, where all my dreams rise and die.   You are not just a girl, you are more,   A goddess sent from heaven’s door.   Your beauty, a masterpiece beyond compare,   Each breath you take turns the world into something rare.   Your lips, a temptation I dare not speak,   A touch from them would make the heavens weep.   Your smile, brighter than a thousand suns,   When I see it, my very heart comes undone.   Easper, you are a dream no mortal could ever hold,   An untamed force, divine and bold.   With every step, the stars fall in line,   The earth bends to the rhythm of your timeless design.   I crave you, ...

Mon Amour: A Timeless Ode to Eternal Love