Ankita Gupta
Abstract Classics Others
The taste of soil is in nature,
The love is in wholesomeness,
The son and daughter of the warrior are the shields of its soil,
The mother soil is our peace of dependability.
Monsoon Memor...
Fathers And H...
Girls
Colonial Era
East India Co...
Journey of Tw...
Winter Scene
Painter
Woman
Battle
When a tree falls in a forest Does it make any noise? When a tree falls in a forest Does it make any noise?
Those depths perpetuated life in me, And I saw myself getting 'Reborn' Those depths perpetuated life in me, And I saw myself getting 'Reborn'
So, the debate between friendship and love flares up again; It’s been quite long, with the situatio... So, the debate between friendship and love flares up again; It’s been quite lon...
I know you don't need me anymore. I know you don't need me anymore.
The Rainbow is then certain to appear... The Rainbow is then certain to appear...
But fate had something different written. But fate had something different written.
Befog days nearing, Survive in uncertainty. Befog days nearing, Survive in uncertainty.
Drowned is the heart in the seas of pain, It doesn't want to see me... Drowned is the heart in the seas of pain, It doesn't want to see me...
How and when was the "Search of self", easy? How and when was the "Search of self", easy?
Long long years after thousands of flowers will bloom on this strange island with a golden color. Long long years after thousands of flowers will bloom on this strange island wit...
But what of the humans dying so???? But what of the humans dying so????
My city is waiting for her delightful children, To welcome them with open hearts, My city is waiting for her delightful children, To welcome them with open heart...
Together we'll paint the planet! Together we'll paint the planet!
You read fast only to be in gone a flash, You jump in the story with a guy with a mask. You read fast only to be in gone a flash, You jump in the story with a guy with...
Motherland.... Motherland....
They were searching for something, In the garbage heap. They were searching for something, In the garbage heap.
And now though strange, we want the Mondays back Because we only pine for what is not and then wish... And now though strange, we want the Mondays back Because we only pine for what ...
She didn't question what she felt, Her fascination revolved around "the why?" She didn't question what she felt, Her fascination revolved around "the why?"
Fragile as a bubble of shroud, Undying as a tale read aloud! Fragile as a bubble of shroud, Undying as a tale read aloud!
However much we dissect time We do not reach its heart. However much we dissect time We do not reach its heart.