It has been so many years since I last saw you. Those sparkling happy eyes have dimmed a bit over the years. People have told me you have grown up to become a quiet person. What goes on in your mind? What do you dream of? To know this, I decide to give your mind a visit this night. Continue reading
Looking back from the window of the bus, teary eyed, I realise how much I am going to miss these people. There is a lump in my throat as a strange force pulls me back, and the lump tightens with each turn of the wheel. As a tear leaves my eye, I smile and wave at Baba whose expression mirrors mine. Continue reading
Dear Last Page of my Notebook,
The school has just reopened after the winter break and I must tell you how much I have missed you in this entire month that I was away. You are one friend who was with me during all those boring lectures when you were my escape into another planet. How can I thank you enough? Continue reading
I am overwhelmed by the response “Little Did He Know…” got. Many of my friends messaged me with interpretations of their own and I was very glad to read so many wonderful perspectives of the same story. That is what is beautiful about stories; they can give birth to so many new stories.
I would like to present the thoughts I had in mind when I wrote the story. Continue reading
He found himself curious as he scanned his surroundings for the first time. He looked upon the vast, black land beneath him. A dim yellow light, that seemed to originate from far away, scarcely filled the darkness. What is this place, he thought. But more than that, he was surprised by his new-found ability to think and see. Continue reading
Her voice can’t hold the weight of the memories and tears pushing to break open. At one point, her voice breaks just a little and she looks away, far away somewhere. I try to console her feeling guilty about every pain I have caused and she shakes her head, holds my hand. Something in her eyes tells me she has thanked God a thousand times already in the last few minutes while telling me this story.
When I came back from school in the evening, Dhaara was sitting in the verandah of her house listening to radio. Her hair was beautifully braided and pinned to them were mogra flowers which had turned slightly brown through the day. Her eyes opened when she heard my footsteps and she turned her head vaguely in my direction. Continue reading