Pen and Stories.

  Each drop of water falling from the fresh and tender leaves mesmerizes you doesn't it? If you notice carefully, it is just the moment when it is about to fall, not yet apart from the leaf but holding onto it, maybe a little scared to fall. That right there is the fine line between the beauty of dew drops and the earthy smell of water puddle just beneath it, equally soothing yet totally different from each other. As you step your foot on it, it seems to create a print but somehow flows further or maybe vanishes, into the ground, absorbed into mother earth. Who knows you say? the tiny sprinkles of mud stuck to your feet, quite unmatched to the soft skin are the witness. It's a new day, a day of seeing people, reading  what they can’t write and picturing what they don’t want to show. What do they hide? What is it, that has to be hidden from us? That our eyes seem to catch but not quite interpret. Do they carry something on themselves? Do we actually care about the mystery? ...

 तुम्हारी आंखों में देखती हु , तो दरिया दिखता है इस पिंजरे से निकलने का एक जरिया दिखता है चल रहा था ज़िंदगी का कारवां यूंही  मगर अब हर रास्ते पर लिखा तुम्हारा नाम दिखता है आसान नहीं इन राहों पे चलना मगर हर कदम एक जाम सा लगता है कड़वा चाहे  जितना भी हो ये सफर तुम्हारी पी हुई चाय सा मीठा लगता है बगीचे के हर फूल में तुम्हारा चेहरा दिखता है इस गुलाबी ठंडी में, लाल गुलाबों की तरह खिलता है हां माना है कांटे हमारे रास्ते में भी, मगर मंजिल पर तुम्हे देखकर हर कांटा गुलाब लगता है                                                                                                    - Shravani D.

    Why do you think people read? Some as a necessity but some as a hobby. Reading a piece of literature is basically talking with one of the finest men of history. Quoting Thoreau here, “The question is not what you look but what you see”. The quality talks pierce right through your heart reminding you of the current shallow busy life at the same time. The books wait to speak their words, their ink on papery leaves that will always stay even though centuries may pass. They invite a conversation with the thoughts, one unspoken and kind - for one can always walk away from a book if one chooses, and return when ready. In a way, they are the legacy of their author's thoughts, preserving ideas that would otherwise be as fleeting as the song of a bird . Opening a book opens a door to a different world, a world aloof of all the judge-mental looks, of all the prying eyes into a soothing essence of a world of interest. Your interest. No, this isn’t nerdy, it's just a feeling of ac...

Racing thoughts, shiny eyes, and lost soul Is it true that someone makes you whole? Whole in sense of the world as new, in the sense that makes to a few Will you find me in you? After the sun has risen above the ocean I hope you find me  In the first ray of the sun's motion. After the morning breeze touches your feet I hope you find me In the giggles of your bedsheet After you leave for work in a rott I hope you find me In the tiffin, you forgot  After you see the traffic dwelling. I hope you find me In the flowers, the kid was selling. When you return home tired I hope you find me In the ease of the couch and the peace you admired. And when you go to sleep at night then I hope you find me The next day again.                                                                              ...

 Leaves were falling, on a breezy night Fog and dews covered my sight yet I had a vision long, finding places where I belong Drops were falling, one from the sky and one from my eye etching in my brain was the question why? I saw many people in my life, everyone carrying a pocket knife with words they spoke and letters they wrote yet another Shakespeare died. I saw many moments in my life, emotions like bees in a beehive they stung sometimes but quenched thy heart resurrecting me when I fell apart. I see it now, I see it all where there is rise there also is fall the world I saw which made me cry was not the answer to my why my longed vision in the blues, is the story that I choose embarking upon the road less traveled everything is leisurely unraveled. Now this autumn, I can't deny I found my why in the sky                                                   ...

  Tears rolling down the eyes, few droplets remaining, forgetting their way as the path was swept from beneath them   consequently blurring the vision with waves of sadness. The salty release calmly flowed in thy mouth so that he could taste his own sorrow. That night was a bad one for Logan indeed. How some things affects the perception of other things happening around and sometimes even ruin them is a matter of beauty.  Logan being a student, applied to a bunch of famous universities, luckily one of them offered him admission. Although the scholarship decision was yet to come but he was already flying in clouds. His smile couldn't widen anymore, and the teeth were sparkling white spreading the shine of joy.  After a few months when other results came ,He wasn't offered admission there, not to his surprise they were the Ivies!  So He began to think about the one that offered him admission, like is it good enough as Ivy League schools, or are the courses bett...