Commotion of Emotions

When we are alone in a quite place, our repressed memories that chill us to the bone start bubbling up. No matter who we are, what we are, where we are, we all have memories or incidents that we wish to forget, obliterate completely from our lives. I too sat in my room alone on a gloomy evening, hardly had I talked to anyone in days. I had started running out of things to do.  To my rescue came an old friend who called me on my cell phone. I hadn't talked to him in days so we talked for almost half an hour. After talking to him I had this immense feeling of joy that came forth tearing right through my boredom. That is when I wrote this: If You Could If you could forget something, what would it be? Would it be your wretched thoughts, Or some unviable memory? What must you expunge from your mind? A terrible apocalypse, Our your punishing congenial time? What torments you the most?  Is it your beloved's reminiscence, Our are you being chased by some ot

I live in a rented house. The landlord lives upstairs with his married son and a 2 year old grand daughter. On a gentle evening, I went up to his room to pay my rent. I was not in a very good mood due to some trifle problems that added up to something big. As I stepped inside I realized that the mother was teaching English alphabets and words to the little one in a room outside which I stood waiting for the landlord. She tried hard, but the little one didn't pay attention and kept laughing and giggling without any reason. Finally the girl spoke the letter 'A' in an amusing yet clear way. It was not a great achievement, but the joy that it brought on the mothers face cannot be enunciated by words. All my tensions culminated at that very moment and what I realized I drafted into a story. Resurrection It was the inception of a lousy evening when a mother-son duo sat at the corner of an immaculate restaurant. "We're growing old son, all we want is for you to come

In all these years, I have met different types of people. Some were reserved yet amazing while some were free yet awful. I looked around and observed two major classes of people: One was carefree, convivial and flew high above, while the other was absolute, serene and down to earth. Both were good in their own ways, but their way of contemplating life was different. We all face merry and poignant news daily, but what we make of it makes us who we are. The Man Who Never Smiled Many came and many lost, None could obliterate his wretched thoughts. All day long he sat alone in his cage, Seldom putting on a troubled visage. He gazed out of the window, To see imbeciles without a drop of sorrow. ' What makes them merry? ', thought he, Corrupt, weak imposters with nothing to be! So he reflected on what he had got, Riches? Love? Not even hatred to rot! A cursed world to look forward to? Wasn't there anything to serve as clue? One night he slumbered, A

Darjeeling is called the Queen of Hills and there's a reason to it. It cannot be explained on mere sheets of paper. I consider myself really fortunate to be a part of this Grey Haven. I only realized this when I experienced the real world. I'm away from it but everytime I get back home, it's a different experience. Everytime I get back home, I fall more and more in love with it. The Hills of Darjeeling I ascend the serpentine road, In vanity where I gloat. No more do the world I loathe, For this Grey Haven is bestowed- With the Almighty's musical note; The hills of Darjeeling. The preposterous world is left behind, From up here is just a dime. With a luring evidently mine, By its vastness- a heinous crime- That fades away as I climb; The hills of Darjeeling. As I climb I see, A spider webbing the crest of a tree. A fresh start under the pearly galaxy, Wild noises through the forest run free- As flocks of birds fly over me; In the hills of Da

On a mild summer day, I sat on the chair in my father's shop at around 1 p.m. Like always, there weren't many customers and i enjoyed the calm streets with occasional traffic. Moments later, I saw a dead man covered in shroud carried by four people, followed by more. Below are the feelings that aroused in me and suddenly changing my 'out of the world feeling' to the reality of practical life. I saw a dead man pass by. Covered in a green shroud, With the heavens on it. Four men bore the weight, For that was all left. I didn't know who was it. I only saw deluded faces following: It was not a massive crowd. Only a diminutive community that cared, For whatever it was worth, I prayed. To whom I do not know; Only making me realize how fragile life is, It pushed me into the depths of silence. Moments later I realized it was someone I knew, Seldom did I meet him on an easeful evening. He had grown old, I had grown up. I wondered when I would grow old.

I'm a very secretive person and don't like to talk much, I spend most of my time listening and not talking. If observing were a hobby, it'd be mine. All the emotions that I gather throughout I put onto sheets of papers. These papers are very precious to me, because they are me. No one knows about me writing pieces, but new people made me realize how it's sad to restrict your limits. I hope to share my work with everyone I can, no matter who it is, after all life is all about crossing all limits and realizing how beautiful it is.😊