Storieo

Category: Inspiration

Collection of Best Inspirational Short Stories

  • The Person Who Changed My Life

    The Person Who Changed My Life

    In your life you meet people who either make you or break you. You come across teachers who you either love and respect deeply, the teachers who help you understand life and not just academics; the one who are there for you. You also meet teachers who, themselves, are so troubled and you’d rather not interact with them once you’re done with your course year. I had the privilege to meet a teacher who changed my life – for the better. This person came in my life with a purpose to help me understand how the world works, how life works and how I can change my own life and do something with it. This person taught me that nobody will help me if I am not ready to help my own self. He taught me how to love and be loved. Somebody who never got tired of my immature problems and always took out time to explain me the formulas of life and not just chemistry.  So, this one’s to him, to the one who calmed me at my most vulnerable phase of life – my Science teacher.

    When I first met him, I did not know that this is the man who is going to change how I view my life. As a kid, I was really sad and disturbed. I constantly missed my father, who I had lost in a terrible train accident. When my grandpa passed away, things got even worse. I did not like living, as if I even knew what life was back at 13 years! I thought I wasn’t good enough and I wouldn’t be able to accomplish the dreams I had. Then, I started talking to my Math teacher in my coaching class.  An incredible and wise woman, who always heard me and encouraged me. She knew everything about me back then. Who was my celebrity crush, what was my favorite colour, how close I was to my mother, everything. I loved talking to her and she really did make me feel like I have a voice and I am heard. I told her about my crazy obsession with Justin Bieber and how I was actually in love with him. After that conversation, two or three days later, he (my teacher)  walks into my class and starts making really unfunny “Just IN case” jokes. I knew he was pulling my leg and honestly, his humor hasn’t improved ever since. After that incident, we started talking in class and the office. Then, I added him on Facebook and we would talk there. The conversations nothing more than “Hi, how are you, blah.”

    However, after a few months, my academic performance started dilapidating and it became a concern. That was when I started talking to sir about my problems and how I felt so alone sometimes. I think I told him too much about myself and he was there through it all. He really did become the father I always wished to have at some point in my life. Every time something went wrong, I always thought of him and how he would help me and oh, did he. He always told me, “Shweta, there is no trying. You either do it or you don’t,” and I never understood that. I always told him, “Look, I try to study instead of thinking about Justin Bieber, but I just cannot!” To which he’d reply, “You’re simply not doing it. The word ‘trying’ limits you so much that you just end up not doing it,” and I have this conversation registered in my head. Whenever I say, “I’m gonna try,” I quickly reframe it and say, “I’m gonna do it.” This is just one of the many lessons he has taught me. He made me realize that I did not “lose” my dad or my grandpa, they are right here, next to me, always. Oh, he was also my first dance in 10th grade when we went for a camp.

    So, when I say he changed my life and that he helped me develop into a wise, wonderful person, I mean it. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. He played a big part in my life and I’m forever grateful to him for that. In fact, he is still there for me. I could just call him and he will be right there (after at least 50 calls)  to help me through whatever problem I’m facing. However, the truth is, he has enabled me to solve my own problems and to believe in myself. I owe him a big one, and I hope, I really hope, one day I can give it all back to him. Till then, I hope this blog post and my prayers will suffice.

    Thank you so much for everything, sir. I love you and you really are the love of my life! Not even Justin is so close to my heart as you are (and I hope that makes you happy).

  • Neha’s Struggle Part-2

    Neha’s Struggle Part-2

    The repeating efforts of running away bring more curses to Neha. However, not just curse but, Rajesh beating her up with more brutality each time. The last and the fourth attempt did not bring an end to Neha’s struggle to run or lose hopes of not fighting this time. This time it is different as if she has an encounter with empowerment, feminist and heroism. She has zeal to fight and curiosity to run again and to know whether Rajesh and his family do stop finding her or not. A little has somehow found the courage to fight against the injustice done with her.

    The moment Rajesh find Neha running away in the desert, he gropes her and makes her sit in the car with a lot of force. She still has the courage to run but, Rajesh is holding her firmly and is not allowing her to move even a bit. The aggression with which Rajesh is holding Neha speaks a lot about the future of that day. Rajesh is going to beat the hell out of Neha today. They reach their village and Rajesh takes Neha to the middle of the village. He shouts and calls everyone there. He says, “This is what one should do when their wives try run.”

    He removes Neha’s clothes violently almost tearing them apart. He starts beating her up like an animal and he is unstoppable. Then someone comes and stops him. Neha is bleeding from everywhere in her body. However, she speaks and says, “I ran fourth time and you are doing this to me. I have the courage to run again and then again. Nevertheless will you have the courage to come here again and beat me like this again? However, you might not be a “MAN” as you have the audacity to remove my clothes in front of the whole village and not to kiss me even one day in our private sphere. And you call yourself a man or a husband.”

    She slaps him and his male ego and she starts walking towards her in laws house without putting even a single piece of cloth on her bare body. She turns back and says, “I am never going to run ever again in my life. And that too from a non-human being and a man.” She walks with confident and her body covered with pride. No one knows what will happen with Neha now. However, everyone knows that Rajesh is going to drink heavily with anger and hurt ego.

    That night enters his house and encounters silence. He thinks that Neha’s anger has come to an end and it is the right time to show her that who is the real man. He starts removing his clothes to conquer Neha’s body. However, Neha is well aware of Rajesh’s deed. She has a big vessel full of boiling hot water in her hands. He jumps inside the room to establish himself as a man again in his house. However, his whole body is burning with whole front body. His male organ (Weapon) is grievously hurt.

    Rajesh is shouting in pain and calling for help. However, after today what happened in the village. Everyone shut their ears and thinks that this is the best. Neha, who is a little girl, has become an angry Indian goddess (KALI). She then pours a lot of red spice on his body and a handful on his burning male organ (Weapon). He is crying, screaming and calling for help. When his mother and father comes to help him and save him. She picks up a very sharp knife and dares them not to come forward.

    She is a violent beast fighting for the evil to stop. She is a ray of hope and her own saviour. She has suddenly become an angry Indian goddess (KALI) who is protecting herself respect, dignity, pride and her womanhood. Neha with a grin saw Rajesh dying slowing and Neha winning the game of ‘unslaving” herself from the vicious circle.

  • We Need to Talk About Depression.

    We Need to Talk About Depression.

    We need to talk about depression. We need to talk about depression because we think depression is going to fix itself but it isn’t. We need to talk about depression because we’d rather have our Facebook and Whatsapp status as “Not feeling well because I broke my leg” than “Not feeling well because I’m depressed.”

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    We need to talk about depression because teenagers think posting anonymous poems on Facebook is more therapeutic than talking to their parents about their feelings.

    We need to talk about depression because we cannot just keep reading the news about suicides and act as if nothing ever happened.

    We need to talk about depression because when kids don’t sleep at night or are not motivated to eat or even take a shower, we label them as lazy instead of asking them the reason for their paralysed motor activities.

    We need to talk about depression because depression is the second leading cause of death amongst youngsters.

    We need to talk about depression because people choose to end their lives or self-harm instead of saying that they need help. And you know why they’re scared to tell their parents/teachers/friends that they’re depressed? Because of the stigma. Because of the laughter, the labelling. Because some of us believe that mental illness isn’t a real thing.

    We need to talk about depression because we’d rather go to the hospital to see a relative or a friend who met with an accident or had a heart attack than we’d go to see a relative or a friend who committed suicide and was saved “luckily”.

    We need to talk about depression because people think it’s a fad or a trend, but it isn’t. It’s not trendy to be depressed, it is heart wrenching, dark and a terrible feeling of helplessness.

    We need to talk about depression because we, as a society, suffer from depression. We are all moving towards the biggest depression the world has ever experienced. And I’m not talking about economic depression.

    We need to talk about depression because we have leaves for physical illnesses but not for mental illnesses. We need to talk about depression because we are moving toward a civilization of depression. Almost more than half the population is suffering from mild anxiety or depression.

    We need to talk about depression because we think it is funny when we make memes about a serious condition like this, but it is not. It is a serious problem that needs our attention, right now.

    We need to talk about depression because it’s okay to not be okay. It is okay to suffer from a mental illness, you’re not different, or a bad person if you’re depressed. It’s okay to not feel like yourself sometimes.

    We need to talk about depression because people who suffer from depression are not just their mental illness. They are more than that, they have a story and they have a life other than depression.

    We need to talk about depression because we need to start accepting that a problem like this exists and is real. We need to understand the severity of it.

    If we don’t start talking now, if we don’t end the stigma now, depression will not fix itself.

  • Dear Chester Bennington

    Dear Chester Bennington

    I stumbled upon you when a few boys in my class were up to no good and sneaked in their MP3 player in the class. They were yelling and showing off about their music taste. One of them played the song “Numb” and that was the first time I heard it. I liked it and I knew I was going to find it on youtube when I go home. I did just that. Since then, you became my favorite person. It was not because your band was successful or popular, but because your voice made me feel at home. Your band felt like a safe place and your voice was one of the biggest reasons why I fell in love with your music.

    I listened to your songs when I was upset, or having a bad day. I also listened to them when I was angry, like, really angry. But, then something changed in college. I felt different things which were bigger than myself… it was then when I realized that the world is bigger than me. I listened to your music and related it with different things – other than just me and my experiences.

    I was obsessed with your band in Junior College. I listened to you all the time. While going to college, in breaks, while studying in the library, while coming back home, at home, while doing my homework, and while sleeping. I was listening to your music when I was sad and when I was happy.

    I listened to your album “A Thousand Suns” the most and it is still my favorite album, and it will always be. The songs on that album spoke to me on a different level. It was that time when I was thinking about the world, about the wars, about the crimes, about reality. I don’t think there could be anyone who could have sung those songs better than you and Mike. Or even composed them, or written them. You felt like home. You were the person who would turn all my thoughts into a piece of art with your songs. You made me understand what it feels like to have a favorite band member, a favorite band. You made me understand what it feels like to identify with a band and their music.

    Then, when I graduated from Junior college to Degree college, I started listening to different kinds of music. While you were always there in all of my playlists, I did not listen to you as much like I used to. Your band released The Hunting Party and I did not listen to it for about a month because I knew you were getting hate. I knew people were telling you that you have changed, and aren’t true to your previous style. But, that was the entire foundation of your band – Linkin Park was known for their versatile music. You guys took big risks and even though your fans did not like albums like A Thousand Suns and Living Things at first, they accepted that it was nothing but art in the end. I argued and argued with everyone about that. In fact, I even remember arguing with a close friend of mine because she insulted your song “Castle of Glass”. I knew what that song meant to you, and I wasn’t having it from someone who did not know you or your band badmouth you.

    I, however, wish I never stopped listening to you. I wish I never stopped watching your interviews. But, I got busier and busier with new artists and college and new experiences. Your music was always there, though. In all of my playlists, you were there. But, it’s almost like, I wasn’t there for you anymore.

    I heard about your new album and I knew you were again getting hate for trying something new, for experimenting and taking a risk. I listened to Battle Symphony and Invisible. So, I understood why you were getting such negative feedback. I loved the songs, and I was going to download your album. But, I kept procrastinating it because I always listen to your new albums in my room, all alone, absorbing every lyric.

    So, I made up my mind that last Sunday, I would finally download your album and listen to it. However, something horrible happened on 20th July, 2017. My friends who knew I love you guys, texted me about it. I did not accept it at first. How was that even possible? You were supposed to be here forever. I thought I had you forever. I was a mess, I am still a mess, and I will forever be a mess whenever I think about you. You were gone, you are gone. You’re never coming back. It hurts. It hurts so much that I cannot even breathe sometimes.

    I remember watching you perform “Waiting for The End” at the Southside Festival in Germany. I don’t know what it was, but I felt it. Right in my heart. Your voice always touched my heart, but this performance was something else. Now, I cannot stop listening to that song and wondering what you were thinking while performing it.

    It was always my dream to watch you perform live in India. But, we don’t always get what we want, right? Nothing hurts more than seeing you gone and knowing that I will never see you again.

    Chester, you were my person. You were my secret place that nobody except for a few friends knew about. This is difficult, but I am letting you go as you are in a better place right now. I know that you are. This world, a dark place, never deserved you in the first place. I hope to see you on the other side, soon.

    You left with a beautiful legacy behind. Your music taught me that the world is bigger than me and I am so, so, thankful to you for that. All that I know now, is that I am not stopping here. You’ve left me with a purpose, with a cause that I need to work on from now onward.

    I love you, Chester. Rest in peace. I will miss you, forever. Thank you for being a part of my life, thank you.

    With Love,

    Shweta.

  • The Price of Freedom

    The Price of Freedom

    It was a hot day. A weary traveller with a haggard look on his face goes through the dense but beautiful forest. He was a soldier from the war who had held prisoner by the enemy. He and his other comrades were freed after his army had signed the treaty. He was tired. The wounds were too painful but like a true soldier, he kept a fast pace bearing the dreadful pain. He was thinking about the way his wife and children would greet him. Maybe even a hot meal would be ready. After the war, all he needed was rest.

    These thoughts brightened his spirits. On the way, he met a queer old man with funny clothes. The soldier stopped to ask for directions when suddenly he caught a glimpse of the huge wooden box past the old man. It was a brown crate with tiny holes on each side. From within came strange noises, It struck the soldier that the box was quite similar to the one in the story of Pandora and the box of troubles. Out of curiosity, he asked the funny man about the contents of the box. It was obvious that the old man wanted to talk to someone He told the soldier that once he and his family lived happily in the woods. Then the terrible war broke out and his property, family, everything was destroyed. The only things left in the forest where the trees and birds. As he was forced to take up an occupation, he chose to become a bird catcher. A whole year had passed catching birds At the end of twelve months he had a hundred different birds packed in this crate. He could sell this box at a reasonable price only if-people would buy it is difficult to live without money.

    After narrating this sad story, the tiny man a looking pleadingly into the soldier’s eyes. The soldier was so touched that he spent all the money to buy the box.after leaving the man to count the money, the soldier walked slowly thinking about the way his family would ridicule him for spending his money on the worthless box up to full of stupid creatures. Suddenly he tripped over a branch and the box dropped from his hands. There was a pleasant sound of chirping and The sky was covered with beautiful creatures. For or ask the first time in his life, tears rolled down his as she cheeks. It was at that very moment he released _ The Price of Freedom.

  • It’s all about loving yourself

    It’s all about loving yourself

    Devi Sharma was her name, she was the second child and she had one elder sister, Divya. Devi was very cute and innocent as a child and turned very beautiful when she grew up. She belonged to an upper middle-class family. She and her sister were put in the best school in the town, her father was a reputed engineer, she lived with her parents in a beautiful and huge bungalow. She had the best of outfits, and she could afford to visit various exotic locations as a part of his father’s monthly holiday trips. Yet, Devi was never happy.

    Yet, Devi was not happy, why? Was she a greedy girl? No! Had she a bad Character? No! Was she ugly? No! Was she jealous? No! then why was she not happy? It was because Devi had no freedom, everything for her was decided by her parents, her clothes, footwear, even the profile picture on her social site accounts, her friends, the way she should speak, sit etc., and everything was coaxed on her rigidly which made her very depressed.

    But, in vain, her parents never understood her plight, they continued coaxing because they thought that they could only decide the right and best for her, and her choice would lead them to shame in the society.

    On the other hand, her sister Divya was very happy, because her parents gave her more love, affection, and support since she was ugly, she blackmailed them every time crying, describing her parents about the attitude of the society towards her ugliness and got whatever she wanted, Devi couldn’t do that because she was just opposite to her sister a very pretty girl, moreover very innocent, following the ethics and moral values that she had learnt from her teachers, and she also did not like ugly tactics to get something and wanted to work hard to earn her own things.

    One day it so happened that while coming from school, she went to her friend’s house adjacent to their bungalow, her mother saw her, and so she was relieved, she thought that probably she would not have any issues, she only came back in 30 minutes, but her mother beat her black and blue, she abused her for having an affair with her friends brother and father too, while actually Devi didn’t even know that her friend had a brother and neither her brother or father was at home, she tried to explain her mother a lot and make her believe and take in confidence, but in vain.

    Devi completed her school somehow with fear, fright, and depression and scored less, but her parents never understood her. When she entered junior college, her parents never gave an opportunity to show her talent and participate in any competitions, while she was very talented, she loved dancing, acting and was good in sports too.

    This was the second terrible incident of her life, her principal called her and said “Dear Smita, I know that you are very good in dancing, because your cousin who is very intelligent and talented himself has appreciated you a lot, and secondly the main dancer is sick there is an inter school competition now and you have to replace her, go home with my son immediately and dress to the best you can and come back soon, All the best dear”.

    Hearing this Devi’s Joy knew no bounds, Her mams son was 3 years younger to her, Devi had a kind of feeling that going home with a 3 years younger boy would not create any issue, but her expectations were smashed off again, She was again beaten, called characterless and abused for having an affair with this small boy too, and was not sent for competition.

    Devi did not understand what to do because everyone in her family had the same mentality, very orthodox, very dominating, and then the 3rd incident in her life was all the more terrible, Her father had some kind of issue in the office and was threatened to be killed and beaten.

    Devi loved her father irrespective of all the odds and differences, and then she got to know that her neighbor uncle had solved the issue for her father, she was very happy.

    One evening when she was sitting in her garden casually, she saw her neighbor Uncle and smiled at him, she was very grateful to him for helping her dad, but disgustingly even this was taken wrong, her father banged her head on the wall terribly pulling her hair and so her mother and sister and again depressed her.

    This time Devi could not take the pain of being blamed and criticized her character for every single boy or man whom she tried communicating with anyway and she tried committing suicide by burning herself, but she was saved, however, her parents yet did not understand her depression, in-fact they said that if she commits suicide the society will blame her for having a disgusting affair with someone who refused to marry her and her family would also be held for shame!

    When she was preparing for her impending exams, her Cousin’s marriage was there, Devi requested her parents to let her stay at home so that she could study, but her parents rejected and taunted her again with no fault of her. Devi was depressed and there was no one whom she could share she tried doing it with her school principal, but in vain, No one actually understood and helped because her father was a well-known man in town.

    With fear and fright she completed her graduation, and then her parents got her married to a guy Ankit who looked like an uncle to her when he stood beside her, who was not handsome while Devi was so beautiful, he was an engineer but a ruffian who made her work all the time treated her like a slave, never bought anything for her, never took her out, made a mess for silly mistake like salt, pepper etc., and even beat her black and blue.

    Devi tried explaining her parents but of no use, as usual, her brother in law had got the marriage proposal for her, she tried explaining her sister and brother in law but all of them had said that it was her fate and she had to accept it. Then it so happened that her aunt supported her to complete her Post Graduation, Devi was relieved because of studies at least, she got the opportunity to stay away from her dominating family.

    She came across a friend who understood her plight and gave her ideas and suggestions and the strength to fight back, she even helped her to get an online job, she taught foreigners online and earned her living, her husband tried to pull her living too, while actually, he did nothing for her though he had lot of money.

    Devi was now independent and got guts to give it back to everyone who insulted and hurt her, she took a divorce from Ankit.

    She was free, at last! And did you know what she did to further do justice to herself?

    She launched a global dance Academy along with her friends who had a similar taste for dance like her which has now become a global phenomenon!

    image courtesy – ijustlovemovies.com

  • The Black forest

    The Black forest

    Once upon a time, there was a little bunny with named Boo-Boo, Boo-Boo was small, but he had big feet. Everyone made fun of his big feet.

    One day he was out picking wild flowers for his mommy. All of a sudden Blake came up to him. (Blake makes fun of him.) “How are you doing old buddy, Boo-Boo?” Blake asked.

    “Well, I was doing fine until you came along. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”

    “Well, I was just thinking, there is a little rumor going around that there witch living in the Black Forest,” said Blake, Smiling “How do you know ask Boo-Boo thoughtfully” Billy Bunny went there morning and witch cured his cut Maybe the witch could make your feet small.

    “Boo-Boo thought about what Blake had said Maybe the witch could change his big feet.Boo got up and dressed Before he left, he wrote a note to his parents. It said.

    Dear mom and dad, I have gone to the Black Forest To get small feet, Love, Boo-Boo.

    Boo walked down the path toward the Black Forest.He walked for a long time until he came to a big, tall giraffe.

    “Excuse me Mrs. Giraffe, but you are in my Way and I am in a hurry, “said Boo-Boo kindly”

    I am sorry young man, where are you headed? ”

    ” I am going to the Black Forest to get small feet. Would you like to come along? My feet are tired and I could ride on your head.

    “I would love to come. I want to get my neck fixed anyway, “said Mrs. Giraffe.

    On the way, Boo-Boo told her everything that had happened to him.

    Mrs. Giraffe walked while Boo-Boo rode on the top of her head. They walked for a long time until they came to a fat hippo.

    Excuse me, Mr. Hippo, but you are in our way and we are in a hurry, “said Boo-Boo.

    I am sorry. Who are you? And where are you headed? “Asked Mr. Hippo

    I am Mrs. Giraffe, and this is Boo-Boo.we are going to the Black Forest to get my neck fixed and his feet fixed,” explained Mrs. Giraffe.

    Do you mind if! Tag along to get my tummy fixed “Asked Mr. Hippo, Not at all,” said Boo-Boo.

    The fat Mr. Hippo tagged along Boo-Boo and Mrs. Giraffe

    They walked for a long time until they came to the edge of the Black Forest.

    Inside the Black Forest, it looked dark You could hear all kinds of scary sound s But that did not stop Boo-Boo. He walked again they came to an old cottage.

    Boo-Boo did not even knock. He opened the door and walk in Then Mrs. Giraffe came in, ducking low. Finally, Mr. Hippo came waddling in.

    Inside the old cottage, they saw an old woman. The woman turned around. “What do you want?”. Asked the old woman.

    “I want my feet smaller,” said Boo-Boo,

    “I want my neck smaller,” said Mrs. Giraffe

    I want my tummy smaller, “said Mr. Hippo

    ” Listen to me, “she said a little softer” I Can, but I don’t want to “you see everyone has their own special qualities.You three are just some of the people in the world that have the world that has something special.”Now, all of you go home and feel good about yourselves.

    “With that, the old witch disappeared.

    There was nothing that they could do, so they all went home.

    When people make fun of Bono’s feet he does not care. It is his special quality.

  •  Zangoef

     Zangoef

    It was a sunny morning when we bustled into our jeep to go on our African Safari. I took my flask of water and basket of food and scrambled into the backseat just as the jeep set off. It was lovely to look out from our canvas windows. The scenery was barren and dry with an occasional tree standing tall in the middle. There were wild shrubs and bushes scattered across the savanna and there was a peaceful silence all around. We could see the faint figure of a giraffe in the horizon and we truly felt at ease. Suddenly, we heard a tiny noise like a baby whimpering. We looked around only to find a tiny ball of fur rolled up, pining away. I Jumped out of the jeep and went up to it glancing around for any signs of its mother. I stealthily crept up to it, cooing in my most comforting voice. It raised its head and my heart went out to it had big, pale yellow soulful eyes and a small black button nose. Looked so lost and lonely that I immediately reached out to it.

    Yikes, “I screamed. The tiny little things had scratched me on my arm. My uncle came to the rescue and handling the club like an expert took us home.

    I named him Zangoef after my late Brother and adopted him as my friend, companion, and bodyguard. First, I had to teach him how to eat, since food is naturally the main source of survival. I borrowed a dish from my mother and my careful wrote his name on it. It was to be his official plate. I poured some milk from the milk jug and carefully laid it down at his feet. “Tenoo.renoo,” I said that which is the African word for eat and sat myself down on the floor to watch him. Zangoef scrambled onto my lap and then balancing himself before to drink the milk. His tawny hide glowed on my black skin. This was one white creature that did not make fun of me.

    Weeks and weeks passed like this and Zangoef and I developed a good friendship. A close bond was formed between us and we experienced clearly inseparable. I slowly common into a lady and Zangoef into a handsome, brave and strong lion. Now his roar was deafening and his canines were sharp and scary, but never harmed me. He was a magnificent sight to see but one thought saddened me. Soon white man bango (Sir in African) would make me send him back to the wild, his natural habitat.

    At last the dreaded day arrived and my white banjo came to fetch Zangoef. Zangoef started snapping violently. I was told to pacify him. On doing so, they chained him and led him away. I watched his big body walk away till he was recently a speck in the horizon. He never looked back and from out of my life with such dignity, that I felt ashamed when my little trickled down my cheek. The thing I felt sad about most was that all his life in captivity he was never chained. So why was being been chained when he was returning to the wild?

  • Melanie

    Melanie

    My summer holidays had begun and I was lazing in bed feeling like a procrastinator. Suddenly Mummy came n with something in her hands. A tiny hummingbird! It was trembling because of a broken leg which was bleeding badly. “Arun Bhaiya found the poor thing lying under the Kadamb tree in the garden,” Mummy said.

    Oh! The desire I had to hug and kiss it was uncontrollable and the disappointment, indescribable when I realised it was too small!

    My sister, Prakriti, and I got her the basket we used for our chickens a year ago and I washed her leg and bound it with gauze.

    We put her in my softest napkin with a bottle cap half full of water and sprinkled some millet – seeds near it. When Dad came home he christened her ‘Melanie’, on the spot and Melanie she was!

    For two days we played with, soothed, caressed and comforted her When the sun rays bounce off her back, pink, green, red, mauve, yellow and a deep glint of blue would shimmer and glimmer all around her. On the third day, after giving Melanie her millet seeds and water. I went out to play. When I came back and asked Mummy if could play with her, “Sure” was the answer. I expected Melanie to be up and about-about just the just the previous she had started tweeting.

    I opened the cage and there she was stiff and cold, with her legs suspended in midair. I screamed! I was hysterical. I ran to my room and slamming the door shut flung myself ° onto the bed and cried. After I had calmed down I told Mummy and Prakriti what had happened, Silently, we buried her and planted pansies over her grave and sobbed, tears flowing freely down our cheeks.

    My time with Melanie was brief but very beautiful My memories of her-hopping in the garden, tweeting for the first time, standing with the nap rainbow colors shimmering around her, sleeping in napkin-these memories always be with always me with me, treasured in my Heart …

  • The World Outside

    The World Outside

    The real world, outside the boundary of leisure,

    is the world that gives you not much pleasure.

    A world of sadness, a world of pain,

    the war has started, started again.

    Too late to stop it, much too late.

    The anger has risen, so has the hate.

    Innocent people, nothing do they we’re wrong

    but should not their then, live much wrong?

     

    Mothers fathers, husbands and wives,

    all destroyed by the enemy’s knives.

    People die, buildings shatter,

    the party, the ones responsible for matters.

    Children look forward to their mothers’ arrivals, mothers arrivals,

    but the mothers are in the hands of the rivals.

    So, then what answers the children’s wait?

    Only cruelty, hardness, anger and hate.

    They try to survive, how they try,

    but they are homeless and left to die.

    Nobody to turn to, nowhere to go

    they’ll have to face the cold winds that blow.