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.

A cup of coffee beside the windowsill and a guitar on his hand. He was used to it! Sitting by the window with the same old melody on his guitar over years, and the same cappuccino with two teaspoons of sugar regardless of any season. He was as gentle as a breeze and as calm as the sky. His fingers ran down the frets as if they were the robots assigned to that particular task. His eyes were motionless, staring out of the window, to the stars, twinkling to impress the solitary moon. He threw a glance at his cellphone, it was 10:53. Suddenly, a charm grew over his eyes. They started to twinkle as the stars did up there. He took his left hand away from the guitar and picked up his cell phone. Slowly, he went to that number! He stopped for a while- he remembered how this went eight years before. He hesitated, but pressed the green button beside the number, conquering the dilemma. The ring went off. As expected, the call was picked up at the exact third ring. A sleepy but charismat

For my cup of love, cupid has always been unfair. I don’t think it is a good thing to blame that stupid, innocent, little, semi-naked infant with bow and arrow. Kids love pranks, don't they? But whom should I blame then? He made a prank with my life! Why is it that he hit that arrow hard to me but not to her? Why is that I always get struck hard but not her? It all started with that pretty little smile of hers. I tried to defend myself from that. And yes dear cupid, I tried to run away from your arrow too. But you ignorant infant! You would not want my happiness right? You pulled that bow hard and that arrow went down piercing my heart. That wasn’t a big deal for you, was it? And why were you so revengeful. Just because I had no belief in you; you pulled the bow only once! You intentionally did not hit her with that arrow right? Damn! Why should not I blame you? Why could you leave me like that cupid? Why did you want to tear me apart? What about her? Wasn’t she supposed t

In the first lecture, teacher said, "Euphemism is something straight told in a twisted way!" She nodded. In the second lecture, teacher asked her,"What does your mother do?" "She Distributes Love", said the daughter of prostitute boldly.