Author: Divya Sharma

  • Ramdas’s wait

    Ramdas, an elderly potter, lived in a small, picturesque village surrounded by rolling hills and babbling brooks. He had worked tirelessly for decades to create exquisite pottery, each work demonstrating his talent and passion. However, as time went on, the village changed, and Ramdas longed for the days when customers filled his shop.

    Ramdas didn’t let the changing times stop him from having hope in his heart every morning. He painstakingly organized his wonderful manifestations on the racks of his curious shop, guaranteeing they were shown in the entirety of their magnificence. Each piece was adorned with vibrant colors and intricate patterns, demonstrating his unwavering dedication.

    In anticipation of the sound of footsteps and the jingle of coins, Ramdas would wait patiently by the doorway, his eyes scanning the winding village path. His shop, on the other hand, remained empty day after day, obscuring him like a thick fog.

    However, Ramdas was unaware that the village had not forgotten his talent or the beauty of his works. A group of young artists and art enthusiasts decided to embark on a journey to discover the elusive treasures of traditional craftsmanship after hearing about the old potter’s plight in the nearby city.

    A lively group of artists entered Ramdas’ shop one sunny morning as he arranged his pottery as usual. As they looked at the exquisite works of art in front of them, their admiration sparkled in their eyes. With a warm smile, surprised by their sudden appearance, Ramdas greeted them.

    The enthralling stories that danced throughout each piece made the artists aware of the immense talent that had been hidden in this modest village. They eagerly purchased Ramdas’ pottery and promised to promote and exhibit his masterpieces in city-wide art shows and galleries.

    People from far and wide soon flocked to Ramdas’ shop, eager to witness the magic of his craft, as word spread like wildfire. His pottery’s genuine beauty attracted both tourists and locals, who appreciated the intricate details and care that went into each piece.

    Visitors flocked to Ramdas’ shop, which had previously been empty, to admire and purchase his pottery. With a newfound appreciation for traditional art, the village prospered. The once desolate streets were alive with conversation, laughter, and the excitement of discovery.

    Ramdas found a new source of inspiration deep within himself as a result of the overwhelming outpouring of support and admiration. He eagerly returned to his pottery wheel, where he created new masterpieces that reflected his life’s joy. He expressed his joy and gratitude to the people who had lifted him up in small ways in each piece he made.

    Ramdas’s fame grew as time went on, and his work was hailed not only in his village but all over the country. His name was sung with reverence by art enthusiasts and aspiring potters, and he became a symbol of traditional craftsmanship.

    Ramdas continued to be content in his beloved village despite the newfound fame and success. His shop became a gathering place for artists and enthusiasts who wanted to learn from his wisdom and share in his joy. It also became a center for creativity and inspiration.

    As a result, the old potter’s journey, which had been characterized by isolation and longing, became a tale of triumph and happiness. In addition to adorning numerous homes and galleries, Ramdas’s pottery brought together a community of art enthusiasts who cherished the beauty of handcrafted treasures.

    Ramdas’ spirit persisted in that small village’s center, inspiring subsequent generations to embrace their craft, pursue their goals, and take solace in the beauty created by artisans.

  •  The  Rakshasa

    A village was consumed by an ancient curse in the heart of rural India, hidden among ancient trees and forgotten paths. Once a source of pride, its name had become associated with terror and despair. A nefarious supernatural being ruled over the lives of the villagers, causing them to live in constant fear and suffering as a result of generations of darkness.

    Aparna, a young woman with an insatiable curiosity, made the decision to enter the village’s curse’s heart. She believed that by confronting the darkness head-on, she could end the community’s suffering. She didn’t know it, but her bravery would only make things worse.

    Aparna cautiously moved toward the forbidden temple as the low moon cast an eerie glow over the village. There was a palpable sense of dread in the air as it became heavier and heavier. The trees stood as silent witnesses to the impending doom as the chilling warnings of the wind were whispered.

    Aparna found herself surrounded by faded murals that told stories about a vengeful spirit known as the Rakshasa as she entered the decaying temple. She was shaken to her core by the wall art that depicted terror and despair. The slumbering evil was jolted awake by her presence, unbeknownst to her.

    The terrifying Rakshasa, the embodiment of darkness and evil, appeared before Aparna as she surveyed the ancient mural. She was taken aback by the blood-curdling scream that it let out. Her trembling form was fixed in its sinister-looking eyes.

    Aparna’s legs betrayed her as she desperately tried to flee, refusing to carry her to safety. The Rakshasa, enjoying her fear, hunkered down with unwavering resolve. She let out a terrible scream that echoed throughout the temple as its long claws reached out and pierced her flesh.

    Fear gripped the villagers as they raced to the temple, sensing the disturbance. However, they arrived too late. Aparna’s lifeless body was found sprawled out on the cold stone floor, her eyes frozen in terror forever.

    When they realized that their beloved Aparna had become yet another victim of the curse that afflicted their village, their cries of agony blended with the howling wind. They were devastated and broken as they mourned the death of a brave person who had dared to confront darkness.

    As a result of its victory, the Rakshasa unleashed its wrath on the village, afflicting the remaining residents with its insatiable desire for souls. As it relentlessly pursued them throughout the night, it reveled in their despair and savored their fear.

    The village, which had once been thriving but was now nothing more than a ghostly shell, fell into a state of perpetual darkness. Every corner was consumed by the terror of the Rakshasa, and there was no hope of redemption. The curse ate away at the spirits of the villagers, making their once-proud customs nothing more than distant recollections. It was stronger than ever.

    The tragic tale of the old Indian village came to an end with the Rakshasa occupying the throne and never being satisfied in its hunger. The village became a haunting reminder of the repercussions of tampering with forces beyond human comprehension. It was a chilling example of the unstoppable power of supernatural beings and the tragic fate that those who dared to challenge them faced.