Yugantar Writes

Disclaimer: Be clear at the beginning, I am not a pessimist. Yeah, I might have been disturbed by the whole day studies and late night waiting, but I am not a pessimist. I might sound like such, but I swear I am not such. I might even sound highly depressed at some point, which I have not been able to figure out myself. Its 15 minutes to midnight. I, all by myself, am still gawking at the un-replied 'Good Night' text I sent 2 hour 33 minutes ago. I am not waiting for the reply text (which do not arrive anyway) as usual. Today, I am waiting to draw a conclusion. And, though I loathe to say it, I am awfully frustrated to know that I have made myself unimportant to you. I now realize, it was my mistake. I now comprehend, I deliberated myself being too close to you, and led myself far beyond the point where you would relish my concern. I have led myself to the situation where you would not even care to throw a squint at me. I now apprehend, I have made a stern blunder. I g

Do reckon, I have a heart too. Believe it or not, This heart is fragile too, It bawls when it's strings are pulled It thuds when you come in like hurricane and leave with same swiftness, And yes, It tries to stop, with every single good bye of yours. You know, I feel like I am the 'Parker' on your pen stand, That you never lay your  hands on. I feel like I am the song on your playlist, That you skip every single time. I feel like an empty paper, Crushed and thrown into dustbin. But, you know what? I am not surprised, I was prepared, You  know, it happens all the time. And the reason? I am never at the 'curtain calls' For, I am amidst the curtains and the pulleys. Getting back, I am always there, Even if you do not care, Do come back.

I am in a monogamous relationship with my writing and thus can't love any other woman. -- A Writer

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.