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Showing posts from July, 2015

Scribblings in a diary (Flash Fiction)

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Somewhere in the dusty corners of my room lies a bookshelf. Disheveled, it holds my life within. Hidden far ahead in the corner is a yellowed diary with dog eared pages. 
If you flip through it you will reach a page where few petals of a rose are held. That’s me, waiting for you. 
I die a slow death everyday pining for you like them and yet survive hoping you would find this diary someday and know what you mean to me.

Identity Crisis (Flash Fiction)

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My mind was like a carbon paper. Every thought that crossed it, left an inedible mark. I was thirty, so you can imagine the amount of thoughts my mind would have gathered till now. Even the counselor was surprised when I could narrate a childhood incident with equal ease like that of yesterday night’s dinner. 
 “No wonder you have had a nervous breakdown! It’s a case of system over load. “ 
What do I do? I cannot forget anything. “ 
“Don’t worry your system has started doing that now. As it is running out of space to store memories it has begun to not save any new memories.” 

The Sweet Truth (55 fiction)

I stared at the sharp needle long before stabbing it into my nerves. It does hurt, but the lack of it hurts more. Love does this often, infects you, and grows into your system like a tumor till there is nothing else left inside. My love for sweets had ensured I got infected with diabetes!

Postcards from memories # 12

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Life & Death (55 fiction)

I don’t want to live!“He screamed to deaf ears. None of the people present in the room could do anything about it. “Get a grip on yourself. Seven years is too long a time!” they said. He agreed,”Seven years is too long a time to be spent confined on the bed like this.”

Silent Whispers ~ A poem

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You are enough (55 fiction)

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My mother would always say,” You are born alone and you die alone. You don’t need anyone else. There is no right or wrong way of living it as long as you live. You are enough my son! ” I never realized the real meaning of her words till someone asked me my father’s name.

Postcards from memories # 11

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What if? ( Flash Fiction)

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What if I had not told you how I feel about us that night!

Perhaps we would still have been together. 
Perhaps life would have still been the same for us, existing together under the same roof. Existing for me and living for you! 
Perhaps that piece of paper with a red stamp that is lying on my desk waiting for me to sign it, would have not existed at all. 
Maybe the unsaid words that have been interpreted by our own choices and the ones said, had not hung so uncomfortably between us today. 
Maybe I could have averted the constant stares I attract now whenever I go out. 
Maybe the hurt I feel in my heart every night as I cry myself to sleep wouldn’t have shown any signs of healing ever.
Maybe the scars on my body, mind and soul would have merged together finally to make a chaotic collage of me. 
Maybe I would have died a bit every single say till the time there was nothing left in me to exist anymore.

Metro Diaries: The Other End of Desire

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Metro Diaries: BeYOUtiful

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Love, again (55 fiction)

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Don’t! Love can only hurt you, make you cry and tear you beyond repair.” They said.
I smiled and asked, “What doesn’t on this earth?” 
After all the hurt, tears and pain perhaps this will be the only thing which will seem worth it all, making me want to love again and again and again.

Postcards from memories # 10

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The Tattoo Artist ( Flash Fiction)

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Since the time I could remember I was in love with sketching. As a kid I have fond memories of colouring the walls of my house with random scribbling. As I grew up I learnt the art of sketching, polished it further and finally became an artist, a tattoo artist ; for I saw the whole world as my canvas, open, inviting, asking me to come hither and paint them with my vivid imagination. 

The Unseen Door ( Flash Fiction)

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Memories ( Flash Fiction)

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And today once again I remembered you. Nothing special, off late everything and anything reminds me of you. 
Today it was the sunlight playing with the leaves of this tree that reminded me of you. It somehow felt just like your touch, that tenderness with which you would caress my hair as I lay in your lap for hours together without a worry about anything in the world.

The Reflection ( 55 fiction)

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"Hold me tight!" She remembered having gushed once to him as he tenderly pulled her closer.

Since this his grip kept getting tighter day by day strangling her identity in bits and pieces till there was nothing left of her.

She never realized it until today when her mirror reflected a stranger back at her.

A year later...

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Diary of a lost wanderer: Growing up!

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Postcards from memories # 9

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The Flowerwoman ( 55 Fiction)

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With her head bent down she tried counting the left over bunch of flowers. Unlike her peers she wasn’t calculating how much she had earned, she was counting all that she couldn't make.
The Bombil fish has to wait Bunty. Today also it will have to be the watery dal.” She choked on her tears.

Diary of a lost wanderer: Letter from a daughter

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The Keepsake (Flash fiction)

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My hair looks so unkempt. It is as if a rat has nibbled them away to glory.” 
No my princess! They look as if you have been on a long camping tour in the hills and just forgotten to cut your hair.” 
She giggled listening to this as he bent to kiss her forehead. They knew her illness was robbing her away of all that she felt was hers, her flawless skin, silky hair and her never ending energy but they also knew that the illness couldn’t rob her of what was hers for keeps, he and his love.