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The Deprived!

The only thing that I ever have,
is my soul.
I am deprived of food,
even clothes.
I am treated with
whatever left over.
and can I ever cross over
this tough path of life?
They make me work
day and night!
and when other children go to school,
I wash vessels and sweep the floor.
What is the destiny
that God holds for me?
And when will I ever
learn to read?
When the other children
play happily under the sun,
I clean their shoes or plough the weary field.
Will i ever get a day,
that makes me happy
and play and dance
like the other children?
When they grow,
I merely grow with them,
I am a little weed,
which is rooted out,
when not in need!
In this life,
will I get a chance,
to aim and become whatever i like to be?
-The child deprived


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It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
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To write is to dwell

FEBRUARY 15th, 2012

What writing means to me...

As lonely as a cloud, as boring as boredom itself, I was. I grew up as a typical child at school but a very hefty one, I am still the same. I managed to cheer people with my innocence but did not manage to make happy friends to last a lifetime because of my gross physique. I couldn't play as I had no playmates at home and my only hobby was to sit and watch tv.

When I was studying in kindergarten, I used to visit a nearby shop with my dad. My dad was busy shopping for groceries and I engaged myself in observing things around me. The people who had mixed emotions that outshone on their faces, an old man cycling with a lot of strain, probably getting back home, the lady vendor with her dirty saree pinned up to her waist and squatting on the floor, selling vegetables, the autowala bargaining with his potential customer, the green trees which arched high with its countless leaves, the flowers that smile at me on the road side, happy child…