Poem : Love for winter

Before I hug my love 

And go into  a deep slumber 

I just want to feel 

To embrace 

And spend some time

On its arms...

Poem

I just wish
To be in your arms,
As I pass through foggy lanes...
I miss your warmth
As the cold breeze stabs me...
My fingers shiver
Yet I have written your name
In the window glass...
The sun plays hide and seek
All throughout the way,
I reach my destination,
But the sun eloped with your name...
Leaving only water droplets
And the void me...

Short Story: Encounter

“Please lower the window glass. Keep it half open.”

“Okay, madam.” The driver unlocks the auto directed switch and adjusts the glass of the window; and continues driving.

I put my left hand on the window glass and rest my face over my hand. The cold breeze kisses my face, leaving a sensation down the spine. I love the road journey especially those where one drives through greenery. I don’t know all the names of the trees that stand on both sides of the road except Gulmohar and neem trees. Believe me, if you look as far your eyes can; you will never want to blink for a second. The sunrays play hide and seek with my face while the cold breeze play with my hair and I try helplessly to tuck my hair behind my ear. But the whole day’s exhaustion was taking a toll on me. And I fail to keep my eyes open.

Suddenly, my car gave a jerk. My hand slipped and my face collided with the window glass. I got hurt on the left side of my cheek.

“Drive safely.”

“Sorry, madam. It wasn’t my fault. These bike riders neither think of their safety nor of others...” the driver explained.

I choose not to take the conversation further and I peep outside the glass. A couple on a bike is going on par with my cab. The girl holds the boy tightly while her head rests on the boy’s back. Something stabbed me. I remain calm and rested my head on the back seat of the cab. I, now, want badly to reach my destination as fast as I can.

“How much time will it take to reach the airport?” I enquired.

“Madam, we are about to cross Deepor Beel. It will take another 30 minutes at the most,” the driver informed.

I tried to hold back my breath. Something choked deep inside me. I, somehow, manage to say, “Please close the window.”

“Madam, look at the setting sun. You can only see it sometimes. Madam, you are lucky!” the driver exclaimed, pointing towards the setting sun.

“Will you please close the window?” I said harshly.

The driver did as directed.

I close my eyes. One thing, I realize that moment, memories never part with you even though the person who create those sometimes may leave. I try to shut all the doors that flung open in the front door of my eyes. And tears slowly make its way down my cheeks.

I reach airport well before time at 6:00 pm and my flight for Delhi is scheduled for 7:30pm. After the usual check in at the airline desk, security checkpoint, collecting boarding pass, I occupy one of the vacant seats.

6:30 pm

Lokpriya Gopinath Bordoloi International Airport,

 13^th July, 2017.

Dear Dairy,

Today, I again see the reflection of my past. It brings back the waves of emotions. And the emotions are creating whirlpools deep inside. The chaos within me made me more restless.  And I feel lonely even in this crowded place. So, I choose to share with you before I board my flight.

The couple on the bike and Deepor Beel together coincidentally brought back the memories of him. I miss him, but I don’t admit. I had many a times promised myself that I will never think of him. But I do. And every time, I miss him; I share with you.

The Sun even chooses to mock at my past. I remember those days when he used to ride me all these distances to see the sunset and how every time we missed it for a minute or two? And he used to promise me to take me to some other spots. I could never see sunset with him. And now when the sun of my life has set, the sun just sets in front of my eyes. But I no longer feel it appealing.

Yours in sackcloth,

Mon.

People have already made a queue. I walk towards the queue and stand behind the crowd. As I make my way to board the flight, I wish when I return everything fall in place.
Comment below your thoughts if ever you come across such situation, what will be your reaction.

Short Story: Spinster Party

The chirping sound of birds is the most pleasant music to the ear. But if it continues for a longer time, will it be soothing to your ear? Believe me; it is not, especially when you get to hear the same day.

The birds began humming the same tune, knocking on my doorsteps and telling me that it’s time to get up. I half heartedly welcome my new day and hastily searched for my cell with my eyes closed. Somehow, I found my cell lying somewhere below my pillow. I then let the birds sleep for 24 hours. The birds in my cell phone never fail to wake me up in the morning. Once they woke me up, I put them to sleep; a bonding shared with so much care.

“It is a holiday. Let me sleep for some more time,” I reminded myself. And my eyes closed completely. I smiled at the thoughts of extra nap and ‘my day.’

But then my cell rang. I opened my eyes, cursing the caller. It was Damini, one of my seniors in college.

“Hello, Damini,” I said, sounding as if I was in deep slumber.

“Hey, Sana,’ she said in an excited voice.

I sat up on my bed and wondered how come people are so ignorant about me and my voice too? Don’t I sound like someone talking in sleep? How does my voice not reflect that I am still in bed?

“Sana, Are you there?” Damini’s words brought me back to my present plight.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Hey, Listen. Today I am throwing a spinster party at my place. You know, before marriage a must ritual for your friends. Otherwise, they might not turn up in my D-day. So, I want you to be present without any excuse,” she said almost in one breath.

Damini was one of my favourite seniors. She has been more a friend than a senior. Whenever I need her, she was ever ready to help me. So, I could not put down her invitation.

“Okay, I will.”

She asked me to reach her place by 12:00 noon and soon after she hang up.

After her call, my mood changed. ‘Spinster Party’ suddenly made my hormones shoot up. I jumped out of my bed in excitement and flung open my wardrobe. I stood there and my eyes went to and fro, scrutinizing every dress in my wardrobe. My excitement dropped down.

“Gosh! Sana, you don’t have anything to wear for the party,” I told myself aloud.

I reached out for my cell and dialled my best friend Swarna’s number.

She picked up my call in one ring.

Before she could even speak, I began,

“Can I borrow a dress from you? I have to attend a spinster party, (I emphasized on the word spinster), and I have no proper dress to wear.”

“Sana, I want to suggest you something...” she said seriously.

“Yes, say...”

“Get married. You’ll have all set of new dresses,” she said sarcastically.

“Swarna, what a suggestion? Disgusting...” I screamed at her.

“Your wardrobe has no place. So many dresses, traditional and western, both so nicely piled up. And how come you say that you have no dress? Too much of anything is bad, you know, Sana...”

“Stop, Swarna. I am in no mood to listen to your philosophy. Suggest me something...” I said.

“Wear that maxi dress you bought for your birthday...”

Before she could even say something more, I began, “I love you so much. That dress will be perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before...”

She stopped me midway and teased me too much of everything is bad.

After her call ended, I took out that dress. I hold it with my two hands and stood before the mirror.

“Perfect,” I complimented myself and began laughing at my own gestures.

I then made a list of things from hair style to colour of my lipstick, stilettos to sling bag in my mind I need for the party.

I reached her home at exactly 12 noon. All her friends had already arrived. As I stepped inside, I was enthralled with the way the entire room was decorated. There was a centre table at the middle of the room. All the sofas were removed and four bean bags were there instead. There was also a mattress very nicely placed with small cushions spread over it. It reminded me of old mujra in Bollyhood movies. There was a bar at the corner of the room- the attractive one for today’s occasion. Just adjacent to the bar, all food items were kept.

My observation shifted to her friends when Damini introduced me to the group of spinsters.

“Hey, girls meet my best junior Sanatombi, a data analyst...”

I shook hands with them. They were ten in total. Some were dressed in hot pants and tees, a few in jeans and shirt and one in maxi dress like me. She seemed lost in her glass of cocktail or mock tail I was not sure.

The party began with loud music, and everyone jumped to the dance floor circling Damini. I too joined them. We all danced to a few of Bollywood dance numbers. After a while, I excused myself while few of them continue dancing. I walked up to the bar and read the names of different liquors:  three barrels, Mr. Boston, Brooklyn Lager, Blossom Hill, Risata, Paul Cluver, Bacardi Gold, and Pepsi, Mountain Dew, Sprite too.

“Hey, shall I make one for you?” Damini teased me from the back.

“Surely, in your daughter’s marriage...,” I replied turning towards her.

She laughed. But her excitement dropped down.

“Sana, I know, you won’t woo with us. But please feel comfortable and enjoy the party. You can have soft drinks,” she said, putting her hands over mine.

“Oh! Damini, I will. I have a better way to enjoy the party. Today I will become your bartender,” I said, tossing an invisible bottle in the air.

She laughed and gave me a tight hug.

“Thank you, Darling...” she whispered in my ear.

“Ma’am, what do you want to have?” I said, taking the position of the bar tender.

“Do you know the proportion to make a drink?” she asked with her eyebrows twisted.

“3:1(3 is to 1),” I replied.

“Sana, again mathematics...,” she grumbled.

I laughed. Someone called her name out and she left.

I sat there observing the girls, their dance, and their talks on their exes, their present crush and all. The liquor was having its toll on them. They laughed and cried at the same time. But the girl in that maxi dress was silent and calm. She laughed occasionally at the jokes of her friends and another time she was lost in the glass she was holding.

She might be observing me as well. So she walked up to me.

“Hey, girl. Are you feeling left out? Want to have a drink with me?” she asked me.

“No, ma’am, I don’t drink,” I replied.

She laughed. “Please call me Sheron.”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“So, you don’t drink...” Sheron began again.

“Yes,” I nodded.

“I drink, I smoke. So, what do you think about me?” she asked.

“I don’t have the right to judge you. It’s your choice. And I have other reasons for not drinking.”

“Other reasons...What?” Sheron seemed curious.

“I want to drink with my Mr. Right.” The words came out so fast, I realised later that I should not have shared this with Sheron.

“Mr. Right...Who is he?”

“I am single,” I replied and the words choked me deep inside.

“So, Sana...You are waiting for a mirage in the desert. You need someone to complete you. Your wish list has that person whom you do not know. You want to enjoy your life with a stranger rather than your friends whom you have known all these years. Your happiness counts on someone whom you are yet to meet.”

“No. I enjoy with my friends. But I keep certain wishes that I want to enjoy with my soul mate,” I stammered trying to justify my point.

“Soul mate...There is nothing like that. Can you be certain your Mr. Right want the same? What if he does not care to fulfil your wish list? Live in the present. Don’t dream of a castle that you imagine in your future? The future is always unpredictable. Take charge of your happiness. Don’t let others make you happy or sad. Let your own choice be responsible for what happens in your life,” she said and walked back to join her friends on the dance floor.

I was taken aback by her words. Her words were too harsh for me to digest. I felt like drinking all the liquors and then blurting at her. But I choose not to.

Without anyone’s notice, I peeped out of that room and walked into Damini’s garden. Her house was very much familiar to me. I sat in the swing facing the big garden of her house. As I swing back and forth, Sheron’s words started making sense to me.

I still cry at nights thinking about him. I am strong to the world, but I break down in front of my pillow. Life is never the same, after he left. I still see his last online timings. I still miss his voice. He left me with a part of me. I still fail to come to terms. He is accountable for my happiness then and now for the pains I am going through. WTF, I have made myself. Sheron today showed me the reality of my life.

                             I am lost

In the world

Of my own thoughts

And I want to escape

Into an unknown destination,

Where the buds-

Of my dreams,

Will bloom

To the fullest...

And I will not be a stranger

Anymore

Amidst known...

I knew it’s the time to change, to change my mind set. Dragging one’s past, wishing for a miracle, thinking of the same person day and night, carrying a fake smile, shouldering others who are going through the same is what my life is all about; I had enough. I took out my cell and texted, “Please forward me the itinerary and the trip details, I will join.”

Short story: Move On

11th Avenue is one of my favorite hangouts. I love the ambience, food and every small thing of the Cafe. The cafe is even the best place to go on a date with someone. The dim lights and the music make it more romantic. But the best part is the extension of the Cafe- a balcony sort of.  People generally sit there to booze and smoke,  while I love to see the beauty of Dighalipukhri as the night befalls.
This evening, I promise one of my friends to meet there. And as usual,  I reach on time while my friend is stuck somewhere in the traffic. As it is one of the crowded cafe in the city, so I think of at least booking a table for two. Unfortunately, I find no vacant place inside. So, I just pop in to check if there is any in the extended portion. I find none there too. Suddenly, my eyes catch a sight of a girl in the corner sitting alone and sipping her coffee. I walk up to her and politely ask her, "May I sit for some time until I find an empty table?"
She just nods. I smile at her and take a seat opposite to her. She completely ignores my presence and continues sipping her coffee. Her eyes fix on the door. Seeing her so restless,  I ask her if she is waiting for someone.
"Does it actually matter if I say yes or no?" she says bluntly.
I am a bit startled the way she reacted at my words.
So I choose to be silent.
She may be reading my face. So, she opens her mouth again giving me the shock I could ever apprehend.
"I am indeed waiting for someone who has asked me to move on. WTF move on,  when his memories lay scattered everywhere. You know, he asked me out on a date. He made me feel special. He made me fall in love with him. And now when I do,  he left. He said our horoscope did not match. Horoscope, do hell with it.  He lost interest and now he brought up this issue. Gosh! Stupid me. I wished I listened to my instincts. Tell me,  how to move on? This cafe and this particular corner,  I have been with him a few weeks back. Will this cafe move on? Bull shits. He might be dating someone with whom his horoscope had matched. But look at me, what  have I become?  Crying for him, wishing for a miracle. Never fall so in love with hopeless brats. Otherwise, one morning you will get up and realise that you have to go on a journey all alone waiting for the train you want to board. And unfortunately, the train will never arrive at your junction."
She put the coffee mug down and walk towards the exit without turning back once.
I sit there half shocked and half angry at my friend for being late.
Her words left me in a complete mess. I reach out my hand for my bag where I always carry a pen and a diary. I imagined what she could be probably thinking while sipping her coffee with her eyes fixed on the door. He and his memories, I thought.

                          I sat-
             With a cup of coffee
             In that corner-
             Where we sat,
             The last time we met...
                        I sat-
             Facing that chair
                      You sat,
             Reliving my past,
                      Or,  yours?
             I was not sure-
             As my past
             Still,  walked hand-in-hand,
             With my present...
                         I sat,
                 Sipping coffee,
                 All alone
                 In that busy cafe...
                          Thinking,
                How you changed?
                So fast,
                          Like the seasons...
                          Crushing the flower,
                That was about to bloom...
                            I sat,
               With my eyes fixed,
                            At the door -
               With a hope
                            That you would knock
                For you promised
                To spread
                The fragrance of the flower
                That you loved...
                But you peeped in
                Like the other day,
                Letting the flower
                To be blown away
                By the wind
                And you just walked away,
                Crushing the petals
                Of your favorite flower
                With your own steps...

And as I pen her thoughts, many questions ring in my mind. Can we actually forget someone so easily?  Are we able to forget our childhood days? Don't we remember the person whenever we check in to a restaurant with whom we came last time?  How can we move on?  How can people say just move on? I just want to ask don't  you have memories that cross  your memory lane in silence? If so, she is right...
Do comment below what you think... 

Poem: Seasons

I wish
I can paint the pages
Of my life,
With different shades
Like the seasons;
For I want to feel
The change in me
That circles
The spring,
And reflects
I am alive
With ideas,
And I generate
Before the autumn steps,
With confidence and vigour,
And finally,
I taste success
And I go to rest
As the winter falls...

Short story : A Conversation

"I really think you must be in a one sided love," a male friend texted.
I ignored his question and asked how his life was in a new city.
"Gym, job and cooking. Boring and usual," he replied.
"Yes. I too think job life is boring. Same place, same work and same people. No excitement and sometimes I think I am leading to nowhere..." I replied.
"... And you know, sometimes, I feel it's better to be a contract killer. So much of excitement... Isn't so?" he asked.
"Exactly,  that sounds interesting. But again, these are risky... " I said.
"Risk is where when I overtake a truck and I turn without knowing what's on the other side... " he replied instantly.
"Well said... " I replied.
"What is the reason behind your obsession about broken heart, one sided love?" he brought back the topic again.
"It is the area where I am comfortable. Thoughts come automatically and I write them..." I replied after a few minutes.
"Have you ever had a broken heart?" he asked.
"Yes, I had... And the pain is the inspiration to write," I replied.
"I have learnt how to control my emotions. I don't even feel bad about my past... " he texted.
"I too don't but my pen love to.  And the best part is he had injected in me the emotions that I pour out as poems... " I replied.
"And... The best thing she gave me is the ability to control my emotions. I can burn myself with emotional desire,  yet have an ice cold soul..." he replied.
"Wow... " I texted instantly.
"I am the king of one liners. My head is messed up,  things come and go. But I think it's high time for you to fall in love again... " he texted back.
"Love is not love
which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to
remove
O no, it is an ever - fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is
never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring
bark,
whose worth's unknown,
although his height be taken." I dropped my favorite lines by William Shakespeare.

Poem: Addiction

You are the addiction
That kills me
Every second
Yet,
I love being
Called-
Addicted...
For you
Are the poison
And the medicine...
With or without you,
I am bound to die
One day...

Poem: A wish

I wish
I'm that flower,
You will choose
One day,
And gift to someone you love...

Poem: Free Bird

A free bird
Lost her way,
And
She sought shelter in a lonely tree...
The tree silently promised her
To be her Savior,
And the free bird began dreaming
To make her castle of love,
Suddenly,
A hurricane came,
The tree failed to keep his promise
And the tree asked the free bird
To leave,
She left heartbroken and flew away
Towards an unknown destination...

Poem: I miss my absence

I miss your presence in my life
But,
More importantly
I miss my own presence in my life... 

Poem: I wish

I wish
I could climb the mountain,
That society created between us,
I wish
I could climb that narrow mountain
Of age old beliefs,
That question my identity
I wish
I could climb that mountain
To prove my priceless love,
I wish
You would have stood by me,
And we climbed the mountain together...

Poem: A mystery unsolved

O my love,
You are the mystery
The world tries to unfold
Between the lines
Of my poem...
And I promise
To keep this mystery unsolved
Till my last breathe...

Poem: I am lost

I am lost
In the world of-
My own thoughts...
Where if's and but's
Are in continuous tussle
With would be's and could be's... 

Poem: I sense your smell

As I gaze at the stars above
From my balcony,
Your thoughts cross my mind
And I miss you...
The cold breeze passing by
Engulf me,
And I smile
As I sense your smell...

Poem: A magic wand

I wish
I had a magic wand
And I could step
Into the future...
For loneliness is my present
And separation was my past...

Poem: World of my poems

O my love,
Shall I cry?
For you are no longer mine
Or, shall I rejoice?
For you have become the words
Of my longing soul,
In the world of my poems
Where you are mine forever...

Poem: Nights

Nights are often
Deceiving,
As sleeps betray
The broken soul...

Poem: Dark

Dark was her taste,
Dresses or chocolates,
That she chose,
Only dark made her complete,
She would feel,
Light had betrayed,
As she hold the diminishing candle,
Loved the darkness,
For it was where,
He had left her forever...

Poem

I was in a dilemma,
When I tried to judge?
Who was better?
The arrogant me,
Who never accepted failures
And achieved all her goals
Or, the matured me
Who tasted the flavor of failure
Yet accepted the life with every challenge
I was in a dilemma,
Whom to choose?
And finally I walked
With a blend of two...

Poetry: Let me free

Let me free,
O beloved
From your thoughts,
That holds me back.
Let me free,
O beloved
From the memories,
That sting me
Days and nights.
Let me free,
O beloved
From the cage,
Of love,
Let me fly,
O beloved
Into an unknown destination...

Poetry: Nights

Nights are often magical,
For her
As she stitches her love story;
With colours of hope...
And the moon and the stars
Witness the empathy,
Of her one sided love... 

Poem: Before I was born

Before I was born,
I presumed
The family of four,
Was happy,
For they had no worries...
Two boys and their parents
Complete the family...
Before I was born,
I presumed
The parents hardly care
Of rape and molestation,
Before I was born,
Their world was beautiful...
But suddenly all changed, all changed
When I stepped into
Their world
Wrapped in a packet
Of tension and worries...

Poetry: Save me, Lord

Save me
O Lord,
From drowning
In self pity;
Save me
O Lord,
From falling apart
In pieces;
Save me
O Lord,
From the thoughts
Of failure,
That haunt me
In dark nights.
Save me
O Lord,
From being lost
In the land-
Of no where,
Save me
O Lord,
Save me...

Poem: How I remember you

I remember you like
The smell of wet soil,
When rain kisses,
After a long denial
I remember you like
That cool breeze,
Which passes by
A traveller,
In the middle of a desert.
I remember you like
The bud that blooms
When Sun rays fall.
I remember you like
The water droplets
That lay scattered
On a windowsill,
On a foggy day...
I remember you like
The mirror
That tells me
Of your presence
Every time I look
At the mirror...

Poem: O beloved, Will you?

O beloved,
Will you come?
To see me
On my death bed
O beloved
Will you?
Or, unlike that day
Will you walk away?
Leaving me alone
O beloved
Will you come?
To bid me farewell
O beloved
Will you come?
And for one last time
Will you?
Hug me
O beloved,
Will you?
Will you keep that last wish?
O beloved,
Will you?

Secrets

She knew many secrets, 

Of her friends,

Of her acquaintances,

Of her siblings,

But her secrets,

Remained secrets...

For she had none, 

Whom she could trust,

With her secrets... 

Anecdote

"Will I be ever able to design my life?" a young girl thought
The years rolled by, she did not get the answer.
And on her death bed, she finally understood the concept.
She was born to design the life of others and not hers.

Poetry: O beloved

Tell me,

O beloved

How to forget you?

Tell me,

O beloved

How to wipe those tears?

That never stops,

When your memories-

Knock at my door.

Tell me,

O beloved

How to smile?

Tell me,

Just tell me,

O beloved

How to be alive again?

Poetry: Memories

I keep on turning sides,
But sleep refuses to come by my side,
I try to keep aside,
But your memories drag me inside-
The ocean of thoughts,
And the tide
Of betrayal,
Swings and subsides-
Deep within the heart...

Very Short Story

One after another thing were thrown out of the gate; clothes, cosmetics, shoes and idol of gods nothing were shown mercy.
And finally it was her turn. She too was forcibly thrown like her belongings.
As she gathered her things, the words of her warden rang in her ears, "This is not a brothel, it's my house. You have no place amongst us. You are like parasites which slowly and slowly gulp the society."
Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked above her head. Her heart screamed, "This society made me, characterised me and gave me a new identity. My new identity separate me from the whole world. They call me 'a call girl.' And I'm prone to judgement harshly."

Mini Tale

'Where is your assignment?' I asked him.
He adjusted his glasses properly, rubbed his nose with his hand and stood up.
'I have not done,' he replied after wasting my precious five minutes.
'He is a slow learner,' the class shouted in unison.
'He is not a slow learner. He is my special child. And students do remember that slow and steady wins the race,' I said and patted on his back. 

Mini Tale

The mask man invades her at nights.
She feels the pain, but fails to express.
The society taboos her 'special child.'
And her parents call the mask man her 'care taker.'

Anecdote

'My marriage is fixed,' she said.
'Congrats,' he said hesitantly.
She looked into his eyes with one last hope. He looked away shattering her last hope.
                         

Black Shadow

I wonder,
When the black shadow will come
Will I embrace it happily?
Leaving behind all memories...
Or, Will I hug half heartedly?
Leaving behind many unfulfilled desires...

Black and White

The sound of laughter, the screams of children  and the loud music of holi songs woke her up.  It was again another day that she hated to wake up with festive feelings. And like other festive days she chose to be isolated, to be deaf and blind. She kept herself aloof; aloof from the outer world that even sunrays were not permitted to pass through the curtains of her room. The feelings of loneliness choked her deep inside for only she knew that the festival of colors did not matter without his colorful presence.  So,  she stood up;  draped her white Saree and engrossed herself in household chores ignoring the noisy world that she was once part of. 

Monster

Leaving behind the hustle and bustle of city life,  I sometime, took refuge at the ghats of Sukreswar temple. I would sit in the steps of the ghat for hours. I loved to sit there with nobody to disturb me. On one such visit last month, I found a familiar face. I saw her once or twice. She was a girl of twelve or thirteen years of age. But I never had conversation with her. She was staring at me from distance. I smiled and signaled her if she wished she could come and join.
She came without any hesitation.
'Hello, I am Biswarupa. But you can call me Rupa,' I introduced myself.
'Hi,' she replied shyly.
'What's your name?' I asked.
'You can call me Tutu,' she copied.
I smiled at her gesture.
'Why do you come here?' she inquired.
'I love to sit at the steps of the ghat and stare at the mighty river. I love being with myself and write the song of my lonely heart... ' I replied sensibly.
'So,  you are a writer... ' she asked-her eyebrows squeezed.
'Well, I aspired to be one...,' I said almost in a laughter.
'You write real or imaginary stories?' she asked curiously.
'A blend of two, real stories with fictional touch...' I replied back.
'Will you write my story?' she asked.
'Do you have a story to tell?' I questioned.
'Yes- the story that haunts me every night,' she answered.
She could not frame her words perfectly. I looked at her. She turned her face away. I shifted towards her. I put my hand over hers.
'Will you write my story?' she asked again.
'Yes,' I assured her.
'One night, I was asleep when a monster woke me up.  I could not figure it out in the dark. I only felt it on my chest which formed circle over my waist. I was afraid,  I could not shout. It went up and down starting from my neck and ending in my thighs. After sometime, I could understand that it had two legs. One went up and the other down. It continued exploring my body. Suddenly, I could hear footsteps nearing my room.  The door opened and the monster disappeared. I felt a familiar touch. It was my mother. And I was so happy that the monster won't come again for it was afraid of my mother. I was right.  It didn't show up that night.  But my happiness did not last long. It came the following night and continued nights after nights. I tried to tell my mother about the monster. But she ignored.  She thought it was my imagination. I was left alone in the hands of that dreadful monster.  One night,  with all my might I tried to face the monster. I waited to see how the monster looked like.  When I felt it over my body,  I slowly removed the blanket from my face and stared at it. My eyes remained wide open. I tried to hold my breathe. My lips dried and my throat struggled for water. The monster looked like my brother in the dark...'
She could not speak more. Tears rolled down her cheeks. I hugged her tightly. She cried in my arms. I had no words to soothe her pain.
'You have to fight the monster. Take your stand. Speak to your parents directly. Don't sleep till your mother comes. Change your room. Stop talking to your brother. Your parents will realise soon,' I said firmly.
She sat there with me in silence. The Sun was about to set. The birds were returning and so was the nature changing around us. Suddenly,  she stood up.
'Thank you, dear writer. It's time for me to leave. I will narrate the next version of my story in our next meeting. Hope to see you here again on the same day in the coming month. Bye,' she said smilingly.
She left me confused. I was unable to understand whether it was real or fiction.
'Did she play with my mind?' I thought.
'Maybe. Or,  may not.'
'A blend of two... ' reasoned my defeated mind.

Judgement

A smile passed on her lips as she felt pride for accomplishing the task properly.  She had been busy since last few weeks unpacking and arranging everything - every room after her family relocated to their new house.  It was already midnight and finally, after arranging the last room; she had completed the work. She chose to call 'The last room' as it was for her and as such she could make necessary arrangements whenever she wanted.  She was lucky to have a room, a bed, a study table with a chair,  king sized Almira and a book shelf. The best thing about her room was her book shelf and she called that her own. She placed her most prized possession in one of the four corners,  the other two corners being occupied by the Almira,  the study table and in the third corner a yoga mat was laid for her exercise and meditation purpose. Her bed rested few steps ahead of her book shelf in a straight line.

The feeling of having everything of one's choice in one's room took away her feeling of exhaustion.
She sat on her bed, her face towards her book shelf.  Each of the four chamber of her book shelf had its own story to tell. Her eyes scrolled through the chambers and got paused for a minute while scrolling down the second chamber.
 Her left eye could sense a wicked laugh while her right eye sparked with admiration. One was arrogant, egoistic, impulsive and an achiever. The other was matured, calm, altruistic and an optimist. She was in dilemma whom to chose for her future.  One was there since she was 12 years old till the end of teenage years while the other witnessed her transformation from teenage stubborn girl to a matured woman. She owed both of them a lot. But she knew very well that one could only become her companion. She thought very deeply and questioned herself if she could choose both partially. Both had been a part of her existence. She had walked miles with each at different phases of her life. The matured she was active in her while the arrogant she had been dormant since five years.
'Be with me,  I will take you to the heights,' said the arrogant she.
'I will make you a great human being, ' matured she replied.
She was unable to judge. So she closed her eyes and tried to analyse but before she could give her final verdict; she fell in a deep slumber.

Mini Tale

'I keep him alive in the mirror of my thoughts,' her lonely heart yelled.
'I see his reflection in that mirror,' her eyes blinked.
'He has no existence in me,' her confident mind replied. 

Story of pen and diary

'I know all her secrets,' said the proud pen.
'I keep all her secrets safe,' revealed the silent diary.