Do we ever keep our promises? How can we be Human if we fail our love?
Question
Covered with the dust of time On the shelf called life, Holding tattered pages Is a book called - self Illustrated with roses & thorns And a path forlorn Leaving me confused Walk or wait As it heads towards an unknown gate Not a song, rhythm or sound for the the tired soul Is a... Continue Reading →
Short Story – Who will cry when I die?
Some stories need to be read and when one comes across a good story early in the morning, it inspires to write more. Beautiful Story by a fellow writer – Ravi Sidula https://muddymarbles.wordpress.com
It’s been almost thirty six years since the time we both were married.
I put my mind back to the night when my eyes had first fell on her.
It was a full moon night with the chilling breeze cutting the skin. And there she was walking all alone advancing further into the night, unconcerned with the silence that crept around. Not a soul on the street and I wondered why this Lady was out in the open at that odd hour of 2 in the night. I laid my steps forward to reach her. My presence went unnoticed as she continued walking engrossed in deep thoughts.
My eyes fell on her neck. It seemed so silky and neat. Never had I seen such a beautiful layer of skin and the thin golden necklace around it glistened, happy enough for having found such an aesthetic neck to decorate. I drew myself…
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Falling Stars
A falling star scratched on the darkness In an otherwise peaceful sky Who let go of whom...?
Blossom
Spring blooms over you Red Poppies... Red like the colour of your blood. I wonder...
Why I can’t find my way around and often lack a sense of direction (literally)?
Yes, the title completely defines me as a person when it comes to finding my way around while driving or sometimes even walking. It is like someone in my head tells me I can’t find the way myself and so it is better that I depend on the glorified half who subjectively can’t find his... Continue Reading →
The Hunt is Not Over
(The story was originally published in the literary e-journal www.earthenlampjournal.com) The claw-fight was necessary. Blood oozed out of my wound. The crimson stain on the floor is evidence of the ghastly fight. Shaila will arrive soon. The monster needs to be killed before it harms her. I am exhausted, but so is he. He feeds on... Continue Reading →
ऐसी भी तो दुआ नहीं
आज फिर स्वयं को छलनी होते देखा मैंने, आज फिर अपने अहम् पर आघात लिया मैंने। ऐसा नहीं की रिश्तों का मोल तोल नहीं जानती, लेकिन झूठ का अंदाज़ भी हूँ पहचानती। रुक कर अक्सर अपने आप को थामा हैं, छिपा लिया जो हँसी ने, सच पर झूठ का जामा हैं। तुम अक्सर कहते हो,... Continue Reading →
Through The Coloured Glass 