Yugantar Writes

Pen in top-left pocket of my blazer, did not write during my examination. Do you see any irony in that? Being closest to my heart is a betrayal for me.

I discern; You catch scars, every single time I grasp your hand, And I know, you abhor it. I know you muse over HIM, every single time I gaze at you. And I know You hate me for doing that. I know Nary an anguish of mine nuisances you. I know Those times I spend with you are just conventional to you. I know I am just another guy, seeking to get near you. I know All my stories are boring, And all my narration, are infuriating. I know I mean nothing to you. But then again, For I hunted a shoulder to shed my tears, Your words fetched bliss to my senses. For I desired this somnolent head to lay rest on some chest, Your lips curled to infantile me. For I wanted to move a step, Your confrontations made me run. For I wanted someone, to listen through what I went, You became delightful addressee. You are the allegory in my drafts, You are the strings to my guitar. And my pillow when I nap. And, yes I thank you, I thank you for entirety. I thank you for letting me stare at you. I thank you for

Went to school canteen after 10 years. Sat on the same old bench; Same brother came and asked, "What would you like?" I replied, "Same old friends around me." This story is not the original creation of mine. Adapted from various anonymous online sources.

Amrit, a seven year old shouted, "Mom, look dad's on TV" Total silence, clock seemed to stop. Running his mother came, tears rolled from all four eyes. It was the routine for martyr 's family.