Thendral

 In the corner of the deep woods of Glen Affric, there stood an oak tree with the name of Ilan. She was splendid and stunning though subtle and stoic. The hustle of Glen somehow kept Ilan covert from the 'Aura'- an animated and agile breeze. Ilan thought the woods were typical up until the onset of spring when Aura passed her path. The breeze acquired an unknowing attachment for the oak tree as it started to observe it every day. Gradually the oak tree also requited adoration to the breeze in the ways she was able to extend. As they got to know one another more, they realized how completely different they were from the other in every aspect. Aside from their differences, the friendship they had developed was what they cherished the most. As the seasons changed in Glen, Aura shifted her course far away from Ilan. She missed Ilan more than words could express, which caused her to ponder on the vivid memories they've shared. Aura loved Ilan for who she was and always found a w...

True to its name, the valley 'Eden' was a paradise that seemed like God was at a juncture of his extraordinary creativity.  The surrealness of the valley with all its lush green meadows stapled by blue skies and cheerful clouds would compel anyone to descend into a journey of soulful bliss. Mischievous little Aaron was no stranger to the valley for his little feet had left no place in that valley which had never been grazed upon or a nook of a valley that has never echoed his piercing giggles. Everything in the valley flipped when Eden turned eerily silent when little Aaron was set to the convent. The dire circumstances for his widowed mother left no choice but to leave Aaron in a convent hostel. Initial days at the hostel were endurable with the solace that the night fetched him in exchange for his tears.  Each passing day and the explicit rules at the convent smeared Aaron into a disciplined and quiet-natured gentleman. As far as the story has reached, our little guy's me...

 Grabbing a coffee, I sat on my couch to watch my favorite show, "cycle around Japan," on NHK World Japan. The episode was phenomenal, and in a few minutes, I went into nostalgic memories of my cycling. I missed every aspect of cycling, right from balancing, racing to the feeling of the wind on my face. I was Seven and in school when I learned cycling from my friends.  In one of my haunting experiences, I hit the bike on a boulder, which had me flying in the air without wings and finally resulting in falling flat on my face. I got a few bruises and a twisted ankle, but that didn't end my learning; it continued whenever I had a cycle.  In '90s, kids owning a bicycle was a luxury, and for many of them, including myself, it was the biggest reward one could potentially ask their parents when they achieve their targets. These targets could always mean ending up performing exceptionally well in academics. As a kid, I did not bother to set bars high but enjoyed little perks ...

  It was Friday the 13th when Jade visited the graveyard, a place of buried secrets and unbroken silence. The zephyr seldom assured a comforting company in her loneliness. However, more often, it was her pulsating heart that vehemently whispered into her ears of fear and anxiousness. It was only a few hours before the anticipating sun could engulf the shallowness of the night. She took a deep breath, swiftly strode to the entomb engraved "Jade." She knelt, gently placed her senseless hands on the grave, and mourned in reticence a final goodbye to her earthly remains. 

You existed in the very thought for every thought I tried to revoke about you.

I  spoke, laughed, and cried in furtive silence. I fought, fled, and froze with numbness. I lose my facade in my abode, Do not inquire me if I'm okay? I lost myself for on whose behalf do I have to articulate? I attempt to respond, but my words speak reticence. I circumvent the circumstantial embarrassment with a walk away — one of the bravest decisions I embraced. You do not perceive me, and I do not blame you, for I do not too. For I'm there, and I'm not, I sense that I don't sense.