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Love you dear mom

Several years ago,
you were born today,
But for me,
you are born fresh everyday,

your smile never seems to fade,
and your eyes never stop to greet,
your arms never stop to embrace me,
and your heart never,
denies a special place for me!

even when I am sad,
your enduring smile,
makes my inner blissful,
and makes me smile gracefully!

I know that even when,
you scolded me this morning,
you had a valid point in your mind,

At my dark times,
you have always reached out
a caring hand for me
and consoled me when I was struck with sorrow,
you protected me when I was in fear,

And you shared with me all merry
and made me ever smiling and blooming...
no matter how many people like
or dislike you, you are always
held in a special place in my heart..
for a sweet person like you,
I have to be thankful to you..
till I live..even after my death!
I love you dear mom...

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                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3


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.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail


I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet

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…