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Inside my mind...

The conflict never ends,
between the good and the bad,
while there is belief,
good triumphs over evil,
there is the prolonged negativity in my tiny mind,

One says yes, and the other,
strongly condemns,
confused I am, on which way to tread,
while one tempts, the other persuades,
and I don't know which is good and which the bad!

There is this strong war that unnerves me,
every time I try to decide,
One rebukes on a deed, while the other
strategically proves it right.

The psychiatry proves me wrong,
whenever I try to divert from its taunts,
the impulse and the opposing demands inside my mind,
fortify my resistance like a flock of herons,
on charging its prey,
Indecisive I become, unable to flaunt
to my challenges, or grin back at my fears.

Will the strife come to cease?
and then I may be at ease.
Retreating to reality, I find that,
my mind has never the ability,
to discord this battle of extremity!

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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…