THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

Dear Martha and Jonas,   Both of you amused me with your story. You both had a very complicated life that an ordinary human finds difficult to decipher. Yet you succeeded in making me understand what shit was actually going through your lives and how difficult it is to survive in those conditions.    Jonas, you were that teenage boy living in Winden with a perpetual sadness in your face. You were content with your small family, friends, and Martha. But you found it difficult to cope with your father's unexpected demise and you wondered why he took his own life. But when you finally got answers for everything, you cursed yourselves for having such a life. You realized the fact that you could not love your Martha anymore and things would not be the same from that very moment. But you tried really hard to make things right because you cared for others and you wanted your people to be happy again. You even wished for a world without you and tried to take your life since you understood

Pleasing Prakash talked through  books, his shirts smelled of old books, redolent of dusts and decayed of hopes. The corners of his library would lit up in glee at the sight of a rare reader, But pleasing Prakash always stood at the threshold to please  his visitors with  the aroma of new and old books. He would open up his library everyday, to please two or three regulars. He watched Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Eliot,Bronte and Woolf  being borrowed for little pleasures, taking his regulars for a visit to different centuries. Pleasing Prakash knew the racks and the covers and its exactness, he waits for the visitors to comment over the books, thus jumping into a deep discussion. It was a Saturday evening when the riots broke out, Pleasing Prakash with his firmness and political correctness, was watching the police and the protesters, he knows who is right and wrong. The next minute he saw a rock , flying high up in the air  aiming the forehead of the policeman. Charging orders were employed

I once met me who stopped by just to narrate a dream, "After the two days of mourning, my friend just went to work, accepting that I won't be at there  today or the coming days. On her way she stood at the cafe, staring at the picture on the glass window, of coffee being spilled out of the cup  in the weirdest way, I saw her smiling, probably of the joke that I made of the picture. But she kept going, smiling at people that we were familiar  with on the way. She had the sympathetic conversation with the ice cream seller at the crossroad,  And their words carried my name  as the most important syllable. She did this for two days, and just let her life going with some occasional mentioning of my name  like a guest role. So did my maid,cat,and books. Their new caretakers sympathised  for being abandoned unexpectedly and got thrilled at their new ownership. My picture was framed and kept  at the most attractive corner of the house, they looked at me and talked to  me like taking a

Everytime the maples bloom  there in spring, I'm falling in love, strange is this, but when your guitar strings whisper in this season  around the corner I get winds of your touch and hear the melodies of your body. Our love was locked under the Seine, Don't tell me you didn't sing that day and I was drunk, remember how you held my hands, and we kissed. Back home, we watched how the maples turned red, and slept under the stars, to name the shooting star. You wished and I wished to make your wish come true. And here when gulmohars bloom  I'm falling in love, again. Everything's changed but I've been looking for you, I can feel you dancing with me, being in your arms. Stay with me until I fall asleep, nothing's going to hurt you, as long as gulmohars  Surround us, Let us light a cigar and  dance under the sky. I will kiss you right on your scars, healing you forever, bringing you back, seasons don't matter without you, whether it's  maples or gulmohars

  Bidding adieu with eyes is one of the most beautiful and painful things.When eyes and hearts do the talking for lips you cannot deny the truth or fake yourselves. All love stories that do not have a happy ending become much more beautiful once they accept the truth.But letting go the person you love is actually what love demands. Maana Ke Hum Yaar Nahin Lo Tay Hai Ke Pyaar Nahin Maana Ke Hum Yaar Nahin Lo Tay Hai Ke Pyaar Nahin Phir Bhi Nazarein Na Tum Milaana Dil Ka Aitbaar Nahin In this song ,where Abhi and Bindu let their eyes speak, a trail of memories rush to him, when he sees her beautiful pair of eyes drenched in rain.They are not friends nor lovers, yet there is this nameless relation between them that pulls them towards each other. raaste mein jo miloon to haath milaane ruk jaana saath mein koi ho tumhaare door se hi tum muskaana    Letting go is never easy, but when you do that let there be no traces of hatred in your meetings, even if it is from a distance.Never let your p

"Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition, and they’ve got talent, as well as just beauty. I’m so sick of people saying that love is all a woman is fit for.”Jo March in Little Women (2019) says this words not just for the sake of saying but to assure others that she really wants to be recognized and accepted for being what she is.  Little women's transition from girlhood to womanhood, falling in and out of love, making sacrifices,being happy at little things, and chasing their dreams speaks for every women out there.The beautiful movie adaptation of the novel of the same name written on the background of American civil war, a time when the society denounced the ambitions of women,will leave us wistful and teary-eyed. These five little women,with their closely-knit family celebrate their femininity and individualism to become something beyond an ordinary wife. The matured,sensible and talented Meg, independent, strong and fi

Never did I think I could find something as attractive as you, You were like my morning coffee Without cream and muffins, My first prayer on every dawn And the last on dusk. My closet is indifferent without your cologne, Which lingered all day along the hall like fresh lavenders. And it was not the tequila in my margaritas that intoxicated me, but the constant sight of you, everytime I blinked my eyes. My psyche was away from the earthly realm wandering in the intricacy of your control. Flipping through the pages of  our rendezvous I couldn't see the excitement in me, which was halted by what seemed to be my clockwork routine. But your face projected  the blisters in your soul which apparently you hid under your attractive words. In and out, we failed  To be the hues of each other's life. And I tried to paddle my canoe to reach yours. Yet you reliquished, your last song of content was dedicated to my colourless juice which purified my face. I wish the time had stopped just befo