““Naskar is when Naskar is not (Sonnet 2550) Ask the dust of my footsteps on sands, where no history sleeps, the truth of my becoming lies, where no calendar keeps. Ask the wind that remembers every pilgrim who walked in flame, it'll tell you how a mortal outgrew the burden of name. Ask the moon that saw my silence, long before it witnessed my speech, it will whisper how the cosmos poured me truths no scriptures teach. Ask the blaze of my trail, if you drown in doubts or dismay - you exist best when you exist not, every seeker is tomorrow's yesterday.””
