A lovely book of poetry

 We are born as little poems, soft, sensitive, pure, innocent...our senses open to the poetic wonder unfolding around. But then as we age we are cast into rigid, customised identities. We lose poetry. We leave behind that soft, gentle, fluid glow of humanness. The same happened with yours truly. I started as a poet but then on the hard anvil of life lost touch with poetry over the years. In between I would pick up poetry books but they won't sync with the hardcore fighting self in the battlefield of life. But I'm glad that I hereby come across a book that really touches one's poetic chords. Brief. Conscise. Gagar mein Sagar. Each word a tale in itself. Little lines embracing vast seas of emotions. Antraji is a renowned painter. Her poetic words are merely an extension of what she creates on the canvas. If poetry is a painting in words then there is no bigger proof than these poems.