How Four Became One!

They say some people come to your life for special purpose. When I take into account my two years journey in Devagiri, 3 people, namely Resmi, Benat and Ansu played an indelible role. I don't actually remember how the four of us came together and became the birds of a feather.But it was an ultimate entertainer.There were hard times for us which made us feel like 'climbing the Everest' was much better option , but there was that cliche mantra deep inside each of us that said' this too shall pass' which made everything much lighter. We are bit problematic, dramatic weirdo group glued together with dollops of love under the spell of some unknown powers.We may be fallible, frolicsome and bothersome which we would rather take as a compliment.And this proved me that cultural variations doesn't matter when you maintain a special boundless culture in friendship.
Love always.❤️

A.C

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Diary!

Now this has become my Diary! Even if I fail to become famous person at the time of my death..this may definitely define me..my words are my thoughts..and my thoughts represents Me !! Sometimes even if we are not able attain our dreams and desires..God somehow makes us happy. Or gives us another way to be happy with his Midas Touch !!! He is a great magician who enchants us with his magic. So i have decided to face life as it comes..because sometimes the best solution is just let it go !! A.C

No Worries!

I really wonder why people around me worries a lot. They stress on some matters as if it some great disaster is about to come.. We have this sole life and spending this whole life vexed on trivial things means wasting our valuable moments.Instead of that why can't people cherish their memories ? At least it can create a smile on their faces. Spread smiles and relax your cheek muscles. Travel lonely and accompany no one. Purchase and feel everything. Make this your motto and live a better life. You can die a better man. A.C

Murmurings of Married Women

I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town, Of married women, Dead and disappeared years ago. I wonder what a time they had, What a life they lived. Their husbands weep and weep and forget them, They praise how they looked after their women, Covering in glittery gold, Buying them silly silks, Giving makeup for a make-over. But still, the women murmur, Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs. They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly. I lowered my face and listened to the tombs, It seems their lipstick was revolting, Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation. They talk about the lies they had to live through, In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages. They call out their abusive partners, Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof, The blood-stained clo...

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