Sara Writes

Hiya! Welcome back Today we're going to talk about.....                      Fake Friends..... As a person who has had a fair share of fake friends and as someone who has more fake friends in their life than the cereal in their bowl, I can proudly say that you have come to the right place and you are going to return wiser. First of all, how to know if someone is a fake friend... 1) Every time you meet them, you're going to feel bad about yourself. The first few times this happens, you might not even notice, but it becomes evident eventually. 2) They will do anything to bring your flaws, or anything bad about you or bad that happened to you, out to the public eye. And they will continue to do this even after you have told them not to.                                                             yeah, the audacity...... 3) A friend should be helping you out when you are in need, they don't just sit and watch. And even if it's obvious, they will just act like they don't

 Hiya! Welcome back  and today we'll talk about.....           DAMSEL IN DISTRESS & PRINCE CHARMING It's 2024 and you're aware that, that up over there is not true at all right? right? RIGHT? I mean if this were a fairy tale, the story would go  Charlotte a poor girl in an English village is poisoned by her stepmother and the unusually handsome prince and mind you a stranger to the girl, comes and kisses her awake. I'm sorry but I think both the stepmother and the prince should be in jail, one for poisoning and the other for kissing the unconscious girl.   Now, back to reality.  Here's a fact, fairy tales took place, if they really did, it was 4,000 - 6,000 years ago and between those years there were strong women who fought for their rights refusing men to overpower them, and thinking that all girls are some sort of damsels in distress is just a way to bring shame to those powerful women.  Any man who thinks that you need to save a girl or as you call it, a Da

I've just got on this train from Tokyo having no idea where it's taking me but this gives me time and space to think, to process what really has happened and what I have really done. The train is mostly empty, and there's a man across from me, I don't pay attention to how old he is, but he's sitting in a cargo and his red hood is up and he's staring into his phone. I get distracted when I hear a laugh from the two girls sitting a few seats away, they remind me of myself from a few days before when I was sitting in the Delhi metro with my best friend. But that's just past now, past I would never be able to relive. I refuse to look at the girls again, the pain is too much for me to do so. Two hours pass by quickly and the train has been through miles, and I just stare outside at nothing in particular.  The guy in front of me shifts and clears his throat, and I immediately look at him, high alert. He looks at me for a few seconds giving me a weird look and then

 Hiya! So this time let's put the short stories and poems aside and talk about ourselves... Honestly, I have too much to speak about but maybe stick to one thing for today, and that would be                                                                 OVERACHIEVERS                       So by no means am I an overachiever and I would undoubtedly need more than two hands to count the people I know who are better than me, cooler than me and so much more. And I've always looked up to those people, wishing I could take their good parts and weave a new me with them.  And for that, I've done several things like being in the top three of my class whatever it takes, learning four languages apart from my native, having something that sets me apart from everyone, only speaking what will please others, trying to be just and the person who someone would need in their darkest times.  But one thing I hate the most about myself would be that I could never speak for myself. I would rath

  I fell for you  I know I did Hard and fast I did But the question is When did I? Was it when  I saw you for the first time  Walking down the alley? Or was it when we shared  a train seat and you told me stories? Or when I looked at you from afar? Or when you waved  on your way to school? I fell out of it I know I did Slow and steady  I did But the question is When did I? Was it when you mocked me  with your friend? Was it when  you were mean? But Did I ever fall for you? And if I did, did I ever fall out of it? Cause if I had, I might not be in wail...

The old car skidded down a road Suha didn't know, she had not known where she was driving for the last half an hour. She was surprised at how well she could drive since she didn't know much about driving and had not been in the driver's seat for months as her parents never let her out nowadays.   SUHA took another turn and she knew she was far away from the city now, as the houses faded into thick trees.  She remembered being on this road two years ago, going on a family vacation, laughing as her parents threw snarky remarks at each other. She would sometimes cheer for her dad and sometimes for her mother, depending on who was winning. Her parents would catch that and the fight would start again, this time she would also be doing the fighting.  She didn't know if they still fought like that now, as they had practically pushed her out of the family after knowing she wasn't smart enough to be at the top of her class now.  "I don't see how you are my daughter,

  She had a choice...turn back to the voice or keep staring at the name in front of her... Everybody turned their heads to the sound of Mrs. Forger's echoing heels at the entrance of the big conference hall and turned back to their notepads in an attempt to look busy. Everyone got up from their seats as she approached the table and greeted her. The reply was a subtle node. The council was used to this behavior of Mrs. Forge by now.  Taking their seats, they waited for her to fish out the papers she was searching for, in her big bundle.   Hemlock High had never been like how it was today...everybody had gone in a sort of silent mourning.  After all, it's not very usual that you see one of your classmates on the newspaper cover page for the news of her death... Alexandria was murdered in ways that would make chills run down your spine. She was slashed with a big knife-like thing violently and with savagery.  Straightening her skirt and squaring her shoulders Mrs. Forge began '

  Not a Lullaby   Clara fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as she sat on a bench in the unkempt park near her house. Her feet shifted and tucked at something, she looked down and saw some weeds growing out. Her hand gazed on her forearm where it stung. She had covered up the bruise pretty well with her gray clothes but that didn’t help cover up the pain at all.  It’s just a bruise, it will go before you know it. She thought to herself.  She closed her eyes and laid her head back and soon began to drift off when suddenly out of nowhere today’s memory seeped in. Everything was a blur when a big hand came and slapped her across the cheek, the impact made her face the right corner of the room, where her mother lay unconscious and beaten up, she tried to reach for her but she was sharply pulled back by her forearm and then there was another slap and another and another. By the time Clara snapped out she was gasping and fighting her tightening throat. After a few moments she calmed down and

  Hallow When today, Clove smiled he couldn’t remember when he had last time. His employer patted his head and the smile disappeared. The sensation of his head being patted wasn’t unfamiliar but deeply despised, now that the person who used to do it wasn’t anywhere but beneath the earth and at peace. The peace that person had endeavored all her life for Clove and herself. Clove looked towards his employer, Mr. Smith again, trying to smile, trying to thank him for giving him, his first earning. But no, he could not. It felt like a curse to not be able to smile. His heart clenched when he tried to remember how he used to do that, what made him smile earlier. her. her presences.  She was the only reason for his happiness . She was the reason for his life. Happy, he didn’t even remember the word now far was experiencing how it felt. How it would feel? Would it feel like a plant, perhaps one with orchids, growing out of his heart and filling the hollowness in his life…or his body…or his co

  Rainbow Those colors of the rainbow I see, Tell my life in a peculiar way, The dark once are for my Secrets, heartbreaks, Tears, failures… The lighter ones show the Smiles, hopes, lights, and friends…  

  New Blood Stephano had visited so many places, so many people today that he had even lost the count. Where is he? Is he starving for food, for water? What is wrong with him? He kept thinking. It was getting dark now, the contrasting dense, yet familiar colors of pink and orange mixing to disperse again in the west. He sat on a stool in front of a shop, what was the reason behind what he did? He imagined his son, tall and lean with a shock of black hair and the palest skin. The air started to clear, he was looking at his son, his back to Stephano’s face, laughing with a few ragged street teenage boys. Stephano lifted himself up from the stool in rage and crossed the road to where his son was standing. He made the boy face him by pulling on his shoulder ‘How many times have I told you not to hang with people like them, huh? And why would you run away like that?’ Recognition hit, it was not his son but another street kid who was now lifting his fist to Stephano’s face. ‘I’m sorry, I con

  When I laugh with you... It's something else. It comes unharmed from my heart. It's like I'm five again. It's something I cherish every day. It's beautiful as a poem. It's adventures as a story. It's carefree as a bird. It's free of hesitation.  It's something I can keep forever. It's something whose bits I store in my heart in a locker. It can't be explained just like the things we laugh at...

  I was Awake I was flying high high in the wide wide sky. An arrow shot me on the heart I lost my senses  and went down  with all the force earth offered. Nobody knows Nobody knows The door was ajar  A slight line of light came in of freedom, of wisdom, of life The door was shut with might and force  and I was sent off Nobody knows  Nobody knows A shout and a scream  and I was awake they were talking  and I was eavesdropping Nobody knows Nobody knows  My heart stopped  as words came out of their mouths sinking me deep deep in the earth Nobody knows  Nobody knows My vision blurred My conscious gone I was waiting patiently  for the time to stop and swallow me in deep in... Nobody knows  Nobody knows I was a hunter of the wild roaming in the jungles of light admiring the shine  I've never seen  Nobody knows  Nobody knows Nobody knows that I  was awake that night...

  DISCLAIMER : This is not a work of friction but a real experience I had as a child. So as it is real and as I would not like to put any superficial detail to it, you may feel that it is boring or unnecessary… Also, real names are not used in this piece. Life of Hopes It must have been the summer vacation of sometime earlier than 2015.  My mother and I thought of visiting my maternal grandmother, whom I would call Granny. One of my mother’s brother and sister were already there. It did not take as long for us to bond again as it takes nowadays. My uncle had two children, Alisha and Avez, and so did my aunt, whom I would like to call, Rahim and Rahel. Most of our time would pass together on the second floor of the house. The second floor had two rooms, one for my other uncle and another was a guest room. Following the good old tradition, we seized the guest room. In the guest room, we were hallowed with luxuries like a television, a huge bed, a small table with a few chairs,

 मयूर  सुवरण, कलानिधि दिलकाश।  सोवत इक्शाना भीतर भाग वाः ।   गद्दा भरीजे कीलालं ।  कण्ठस्थ भीतर राखे बृहत्काय एजा।  मानो बनावे झंझावात।  उत्रिद्रता भरी जावे रैन। तक्रीर करे कीस्यूँ।  मुन्सिफाना रवान  आंसू    ।  रात्रि जावे।  पाछे तबस्सुम भरे।  मस्नोई।। 

  Amrina’s Amour Poem Collection Paintings stake, Mornings fade, To mine and your fate, Now you won’t be my dame…   I’m afraid I could do nothing, It’s all fates playing, As you stole my heart, So as of the Prince, I would be able to do nothing, When in tomorrow morning, He writes your fate with his ring…   Till the  last leaf of my trees flutter, Oh Arthur, I must mutter, Your name in a continuous utter. Cause our love will last forever, And we’ll be together, Oh Romeo, I be your Juliet, Even if I have to die, With veins and arteries filled with poison …

  Pelora Valley This was an unexpected visit for Arya but rather expected for her colleagues. Getting late for the office, dozing off in meetings, and messing up with files had become her routine for a week. On one of those uncertain days, the manager of the sales department called Arya and advised her to either take a vacation or work from home.   Arya was more than happy to choose a vacation. But it wasn’t going to be a vacation in any way. Arya’s grandfather who lived in the Pelora Valley had fallen seriously ill. Which had become a point of misery for Arya too. The same day she left for the Pelora Valley. In the eastern part of the country, beyond the vast stretches of tea gardens there, lay this small Valley, with a population of around 500 people and thousands of untold stories. When Arya entered the gloomy little house which her grandfather had made after his retirement from the Indian Army, what she saw was unexpected. While her last visit two years back her grandfath

                                                                   SO GO!! Wait, hold on,  what do you think you will gain  with that effort, that time? It will all go in vain... Nobody goes to a serpent by self, and what you are doing is nothing less. Sins for religion are different, but do you know, which is the biggest sin  to attempt for yourself? What do you think working hard for something you don't wish will fetch you anything? So go  and go search for your heart, and never return to the task for which you would never ask...  

The untouched pleasure, the plight of the weather, there it stands so clever, but I don't know if it would do any better, and I don't know if I would be the ator. It's hard for me to do it ever, but still, I endeavor, and yet I fail, soever. People think I haver, and still, I wonder, ever or never...  

 Amrina a middle-class baker’s daughter controlled the backing business after her father’s death. Her creamy pastries with appealing strawberries from her garden were even loved by the king’s family, Gabriel Intae. Apart from cooking, she had another eminence, beauty. Her deep-set green eyes like emeralds, thin red lips, and skin as white as cotton freshly brought from the fields and hair the color of tree bark, always hung loosely from her bun. One day, she left for the palace of Gabriel Intae with her cake. She had made a special cake of Guava and orange for the king’s son, Paul, who had come to the Argent Empire after spending nine years in Africa. Though greeting the prince was not the only reason for her to visit but she also desired to see the palace servant, Arthur, her lover. (Amrina reaches the Snow Palace) Amrina to herself: Oh, what would I say to the king if I accidentally run into him, he won’t pardon me for bringing this shattered gown to his palace. Oh poor me. I j