Or the scroll sheet
Or to cast in metals
Too is a priceless art,
Not less than the poetry of the poets.
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Gentleman, meet I not,
Are but Bantleman, Lantleman.
I said to you the story of my life
I want to hear from you remaining silent,All about your house, family, place and surroundings,Will you not tell me?Now-a-days who talks to whom, who has got the time to talk to,All the big talkers, I mean the gosip-masters of yesteryearsAre almost gone now,Is it not the truth?
She keeps powdering, creaming
Applying the cosmeticsA heroine behind the curtainBefore the mirrorDressing and decorating herselfA persona colourfulAnd impressive.
They turned into
So soonWhichBut I could notFeel it then.They are notBut as the photographsOf the old albumOf obsolete images.
Gentleman, is this your love, gentlemanliness,
Love and leave?Having left her weeping inconsolably,The eyes red with weeping,The handkerchief wet with tears,You intend on proposing againThat you are single, unmarried,on the look out for a new girl.And will say you again that you have notAny girl before,This is the first time you have fallen in loveWith anyone who is so sweet.Say you,…
Your Padmawat
In a tell-tale story formThe matter of debateYears afterWhen you are no moreYour Padmavat,PadmawatDealing withRani Padmavati, Alauddin Khilji and Ratan Singha.A Rajput queen,A Muslim invaderAnd a yearning so different.How to tell,Tell it,Jayasi?Rani Padmavati a Rajput princessOf the kattar RajputsWhile on the other Alauddin a Muhammadan invaderAfter Padmavati?How can it be, how can it be,Jayasi,Return you…