The Quiet Flame In the dusty streets of Porbandar he crossed the tide, No trident, no banner—just a boy, a quiet pride. His thoughts like candle‑whispers rose above the sound, In every syllable of
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Read more →The Marvelous, Mirth‑laden Musings on the Magic of Moving Picture this: you’re perched on the sofa, a pint of crisps in hand, flicking through the latest football gossip. Suddenly, a tiny,
Read more →My 5 year old daughter drew a nice picture of a princess and beautiful flowers and sunshine. Then she brought the picture to her daddy and said, "Daddy, this is a
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