Usually people ask why when they are in trouble, but never ask why when they are contented and happy. People complain for unanswered prayers, but never complained for blessings they deliberately received.

This is a continuation of two other poems about the death and rebirth of the daughter, Tara, of a friend of mine. She died of anoxia and was revived, the slow process of recovery began.

Death comes to us all. It respects neither kings nor slaves and there is no remedy against it, but there is hope for those who lived right. Hope of a life after death.

There have been so many debates and discussions about life after death. It is true that one can live even after the tenure in this world is over; provided the person is willing to donate organs.

My Friends do not think I am Dead
I am traversing a Life beyond Life
A Life which only Hero’s claim
A reward for their Heroic Strife.

Could science and religion both be right about what happens after death?

A feeling of angst knowing that we are sandwiched between two unfathomable mysteries: life before birth and life after death.

The essence of the illusion of time, Poem.

Was there someone from the Land of Buddha
or Buddha himself sending back
adjudged dead back to earth
as princes or monkeys or swines?
I don’t know anything about this
I never saw anyone coming back
to this earth after he went forever!
I am still wondering.

A poem about a person who don’t take the deeds seriously, eventually in hereafter he must suffer from what he has brought forward.