I burnt the effigy of the old customs Is it a sin, amidst the snowy chilled world Iam standing, Grant me thy courage to withstand And forbear the ransom That which strangles my existence…. I , born to be thus, A silent crusader, A life long fighter, What shall then stop my battle… behold, I watch the world mutely, beware! my ink screams with utmost intensity! The pen dwells through my veins narrating the tale of agony and miseries! does the splendid ink speak of glory or stories magnanimously told as lie! whatever it echoes , it shall resonate the sordid reality of mankind!