It was just one of those normal, routine struck days in my life, when I stumbled upon a very depressing yet intriguing fact. Well, as I just love sitting idle and thinking, I was doing about the same, the only thing different here was that I was also in the
stories
“Need something to write on. Suggestions..” “What do you wish to write on??” “Anything you wish for, apart from perhaps ‘Russian revolution’ “ “Some love story, Te Amo types “ “Hmmm…. Toh, meko kisi ki love story toh sunao…” “Lemme get over with the comparative government class” “And, the potential dropped to
poems
The sea has a story to tell, Even in all it’s calmness… The palaces that stood, oh, so firm once, Even they, find themselves in ruins… The sea has a feeble memory, Impressions fading, in remembrance… A case of constant change, It’s face, a never-finished masterpiece! In all
poems
Here I stand, Among the ashes, the ruins, the fire; Among fallen heroes, sunk egos, butchered heads!! The Phoenix must rise! The mortals must bow..! War begets war, but not the peace of mind! The path has been long, tiring, painful.. Of which what remains is nostalgia. Those who once
stories
“Mmm…” “Mmmmm…” The touch of something rough, slipping over my neck; distinct. Hissss…… The sound of that rough touch, approaching my ear; distinct. “Ahhh…. Shit….” The reaction, was, well clockwork; I shook off the creature, my eyes were shut, too numb to respond. I felt the chill of the underlying