Sara Writes

  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