On a blank sheet of paper,
I’ll build the world of my dreams.
Whether or not I reach my goal,
I’ll make the journey shine, it seems.

Every day wanderers lose their way—
But have they ever lacked passion’s fire?
No traveler shall halt this voyage of mine;
Wherever I pass, I’ll leave my desire.

If even angels must grant their grace,
I’ll still fulfill my earthly vow—
For those I promised under heaven’s gaze,
I’ll bring those dreams to ground somehow.

On a blank sheet of paper,
I’ll build the world of my dreams.

Every line I write is a little piece of the world I wish existed.
Translated works of poetry by Abhishek Choudhary
Even the dwellers of indulgence today
Call themselves Ram with pride—
They know not what the word Ram means,
Yet chant His name far and wide.
Within themselves sits the Ravan still,
Whom none has ever truly seen—
All the pleasure-seekers sit in Ayodhya now,
Who wishes to walk the forest serene?
When you can draw water from stone,
And wipe deceit from your mind’s throne,
Then call yourself Ram if you must—
And ask yourself in honest trust:
How different were you from Ravan then?Ravan too was learned, wise,
Why then was he punished by the skies?
He ruled the golden land of Lanka bright—
Was he deluded by illusion’s light?
Four Vedas danced upon his tongue,
Yet he sheltered Rahu all along—
One fatal wrong he made that day:
He failed to honor woman’s way.
He fell to pride’s consuming flame,
Yet was dear to Shiva’s name—
When his devotion was bound to the trident’s grace,
How long could the Sudarshan wait?
In Treta there was one Ravan alone,
But in Kaliyug—who can count their own?
Is there a single sin today,
That in this age has not held sway?
No spark of Ram resides in these,
Nor are they of the Sun’s line or peace—
To burn an effigy made of clay,
Is not to end what Ravan lay.”

When we set forth from our homes,
Why should we turn and look behind?
Though the destination seems far away,
Why fear the storm within our mind?

Let not the failing student’s boat—
That sank midstream and lost its way—
Disturb the calm within your soul,
Or make your spirit go astray.

Yes, the storm unsettles thought,
Yet deep within, desire still sings—
Its melody of faith and hope,
Of dawns the morning always brings.

Forget not this flood will fade—
A new sunrise shall appear!
The one whose heart still dares to dream
Will find his song, loud and clear.

This Varshavan—a flood within—
Has drowned many a reckless soul;
But the sailor who has crossed it through,
No one on earth can now control!