I was reading a book. A collection of short stories to be precise, and the fact that all the stories in that book had a happy ending was bothering me a lot. I mean, no matter how wrong the things went, every story ended with a smile. Do stories with not-so-happy endings not exist? Or, do they not deserve to be remembered, and told? Well, I don’t know the answer.
I gaze fixedly at the train moving in front of me as its speed makes the strands of my hair move wildly across my face. In about two minutes, it’s gone. It is like the eerie calm after a storm; it is like nothing ever happened. Years and years of watching those beasts of iron move along the tracks tend to catch up on me sometimes and thus, I end
“Somebody either light me a cigarette or get the goddamn cop who brought me in. I am not getting a lawyer anyway.” “Is the coffee too dull, your highness? Must be better than the shit you get in the brothel.” “Taking the moral high ground, are we? Life must be pretty beautiful and blue from where you’re talking. The pedestals sicken me.” The crowns, the jewels, the
The ticker is ticking, and so are you, And let me now reveal, I’ll be true, When it strikes the right chord, you’ll be gone, Tearing me apart, as the days yawn. You’ll depart to a far off land, Carried away by its underlying sand, But someone will be out there, Awaiting your arrival, one who’ll care. With poignant grief in my stricken heart, Standing at this point,
“No, please!” I cry out as they shove me aside like a rag doll and turn my backpack upside down, littering the road with my books. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re nothing. Don’t dare to act cheeky around me next time.” He stands with three other guys, all looking down at my miserable figure sprawled out on the road, like I’m an insignificant bug in
My grandparents have had a lasting impression in my life. My entire childhood was spent in their loving hugs,their compelling stories during the afternoon siestas and their reassuring smiles while they silently inculcated a firm belief in me that only good can exist in the world.They were both pristine souls showering their unconditional love on everyone : right from their grandchildren to the maids working in their children’s homes.
A thin blue line, Is all it took To make her dreams collapse to the floor, Along with her heaving body Sliding down against the bathroom door. All she ever dreamed of, Was the gift of life Blossom in her empty womb, So she would finally be a dutiful wife. With heavy sobs of sorrow, Her body violently shook. She wondered how pieces of plastic Could deprive her
The school I studied in had a lawyer as a chairman, and his son, serving as the Vice President, was a lawyer too. I came across this fact not as a 7-year old student of that school, but as a citizen, whose father read the newspaper in which a brave journalist had dared to raise questions against the impending trial and conviction of a bus driver, who had killed an
I have observed the world moving at a faster pace. I have observed people; they are always in a rush. They see me daily. I am always on the wheels. But they overtake me from both the sides, just like the way a mother overtakes the toddler when he reaches the edge and is on the verge of falling, and all she cares about is saving him. Everything else just