Short Stories, Poems and much more

Its seldom we receive letters from our friends and relatives. What we receive these days are the formal letters from banks or insurance companies. New technology which eradicates the time taken for communication and easy access has replaced letters with emails and cell phones. Quick and live communication via emails, phones and internet have completely uprooted the tradition of writing letters. The fast and active lifestyles with tight schedules and deadlines have sidelined the passive letters. It is also now associated with a stigma ‘Snail Mail’ as the whole process of communication takes a very long time.  The pleasure of receiving letters, reading them and replying are long lost. These pleasures are untouched by the current techno addict young generation. The pleasure we get while writing a letter with a pen filled with the ink of emotions is not present in typing mails or making a call. Writing a letter is an art and has a different kind of pleasure which we don’t get from the

Clouds of Uncertainty As usual train was 25 minutes late. I was thinking when the train will arrive and will sit on my seat and have a sign of relief. But, actually I was unhappy leaving my native place and going back to the busy and stressful life of Mumbai. At last train arrived and as a well cultured boy I touched my elder’s feet and gave five to all my cousins. I grabbed my bag and moved into the train. I left my bag under my seat and came near the exit door to give my final bye to all. Soon the train started and I was standing near the door until the station vanished from my sight. Moving back to my seat, there was a couple with a child. The woman was plump and was breast feeding her child, covering the exposed part of her body. Her husband was stripped to bone. Next to them were a girl and a boy and the latter was trying to get a glimpse of the exposed part of the lady feeding her child. I had no interest in them and started looking outside the window. Hills, river, clif

LOST & FOUND             I looked at my clock, displaying 3 a.m. I was still awake, not getting sleep. And it was obvious, because no person would ever get sleep, the night before his marriage. I was continuously listening to the sound of the clock, slow but steady and continuous. I was thinking about our most unconventional type of story. Different from all other stories I’d ever heard of.             I first met her in my college days. The three most precious years of my life. I will never forget these years and the memories attached with it. Some things in life are not meant to be forgotten. Precious than gold, diamonds and all other things.             On the very first day of introduction, I started noticing her. She was quite beautiful. But when I discussed about her with my friend, he didn’t find her beautiful. But, t didn’t care about his opinion. I know that I liked her and nothing else mattered.             Soon we became friends and gradually good friends. I enjoyed her

Women, a Symbol of Bravery Being born as a girl especially in India is a symbol of bravery. They deserve a Bravery Award just for being a woman. Giving them respect is their birth right regardless of what they do. Even if it is a prostitute one should give respect on the grounds of humanity. But today we see man humiliating, eve teasing every girl or woman they see. Every girl who moves out of home is raped either verbally or visually. People should understand that even staring hurts. Why they do this? Do they think that teasing a girl is bravery or a symbol of being a real man? Disrespecting a girl makes them look cool. We don’t know what the answer is. But a real man is the one who respects women as she should be regardless of what she does or what she wears. An earnest endeavor to survive is not dependent on ones status of being rich or poor but on sex. Yes, women are the one who struggle for every breath they heave for. They are like brave warriors who carry a spear plunged inside

Running a lost race… Everyone in this world loves victory. Loss of any particular thing makes us unhappy. Nobody likes the loss all love to win. On contrary, I think there is a unique pleasure in loss, but only under one condition, love. Loss in love gives me a pleasure. I enjoy being a loser in love. This may be because of two reasons. First is that I have never won in love and the other is that love is a beautiful thing and from all dimensions, whether loss or victory. Being in love is just a beautiful thing ever in life. I am in love with a girl who hates me and is in relationship with someone. But this doesn’t stop me from loving her. One may call it foolishness or a wild goose chase but whatever one may say, I just love running a lost race. Feeling of hatred from her doesn’t make me sad because expecting in love is very wrong. Everyone has the right to love anyone but don’t have the right to expect the same. Expectation and gains spoils the holiness and sacrecy of love. Love is n

Under a tree lonely I lie, Thinking of her only I cry. Why she said me, bye… The day when she was near, The world seemed to me very dear. Sitting together and sucking our thumb, Those days of being dumb. As we grew up and knew everything, He distance has spread its infinite wings. Dark and darker the night has fallen, Crying and crying my eyes has swollen. I just have regretted before I die, Why she said me BYE……

Relationships of heart, Maintaining them is an art. Threads of silk, They are woven with. Where handling gently work, And force makes them jerk. But this she never understood, And my life is no more good. Life and time waits for none, And true love happens just once. Now I love to live a lonely life, Without family and my wife. Loner I have come,   And as a loner I will go. I just want to take a deep breath, Because I know that I am going to die a lonely death.