Woven in Myth: Mythology in Verse
Factual Tales from Hindu Mythology Told in Poetry
What if gods whispered their secrets in rhyme?
What if ancient battles, celestial love, and cosmic curses unfolded not in heavy tomes—but in verses that sang?
Woven in Myth is not just a book—it's an awakening.
A lyrical journey through real stories of Hindu mythology, retold with poetic precision. From Radha’s silent longing to Shiva’s tandava rage, from Draupadi’s fire-born vow to Ganga’s descent from the heavens, each poem unveils truths rooted in scriptures—not imagination.
Whether you're a devotee of the divine or a curious wanderer of forgotten lore, this book invites you to rediscover mythology the way it was meant to be felt—deep, rhythmic, and raw.
Not myth. Not fantasy. These are the truths of the cosmos—rhymed.
Turn the page, and let the gods speak in verse.
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Alfazgee
From Mihika’s hush to verses untamed,
Alfaazgee was born—wild and unnamed.
She never trained to be a poet.
She simply surrendered to what wanted to be felt.
Alfaazgee is not a name she wears, but a state she enters.
It means madness in love with words—and that’s exactly what her journey has been. A beautiful, feral, unapologetic madness that carried her into the lap of myth and out into the vast sky of verse.
She doesn't write from the head—she writes from the pulse.
Each poem in this book arrived like a memory she didn’t know she had.
Some landed gently, like ash after a ritual fire. Others crashed through her like divine thunder.
Her relationship with mythology isn’t scholarly—it’s visceral.
She doesn’t dissect the gods; she dances with them.
She doesn’t decode the scriptures; she lets them simmer in her until they become song.
Shlokas and silences, stories and longings—they all became ink.
This book is not the result of discipline.
It is the result of devotion.
Of late nights spent speaking with deities who refused to stay distant.
Of letting Radha’s ache flood her chest, of holding Shiva’s stillness like breath, of feeling Draupadi’s fire rise through her spine.
She has never seen myth as separate from the now.
It lives in espresso cups, in rabbit eyes, in the curve of her tattoos, in heartbreaks, rebellions, laughter, rituals, and in the rhythm of electronic beats that pulse like mantras.
She is a singer of truths, a listener of echoes—
a collector of ancient feelings dressed in modern skin.
—Alfazgee
