An Unedited Life

I have always thought if we will BE together....even after death.... she whispered.. looking into his eyes, holding his hands. “Yes,ofcourse.. and why not? Do you think anyone can separate you from me?” he replied sitting beside the hospital bed she was lying on... “I am obviously old and weak. But my heart is strong.... I can knock anyone down who tries to take you away from me.... But I do fear.... that I will lose you..I will never get to see you again. I am scared of falling in that deep emptiness from where I will never return.... Her wrinkled hands grabbed his hand tighter than ever.... A shining drop of sacred tear fell from her charming eyes. “But you won’t lose me...ever...I will always stay by your side. even in that dark emptiness that you fear.....I will never let you go.” he said holding her hand and pulling it close to his heart... She paused and said “But this disease and the limit of my life will defeat you. You’ll have to let me go.” and tears rolled d

in the middle of the night, he woke up and stared at their picture on his mobile . Then, he spent the night watching all their photos. But he wasn’t happy. The photos were not making him euphoric. They were hurting him.They were torturing him. He wanted to delete them all, but he also wanted to live them .The photos became his sleeping pills, dangerous but mandatory.  It took her just one sentence and one second to end all that he built. “I am not happy in this relationship” she said. Whatever he did for her was unconditional. He never asked her to reciprocate the feelings. Why did she started loving with no purpose of continuing it.? And she thought, like other people in her life, this one too will forget everything and move on.! I pity her for never  understanding that she had a gem. And she threw it away on her own. For him, love became a fallacy. He feels guilty of loving someone to that extent. He was finding it more difficult to breath than to stop breathing. The guy with

Some times ago, I was sitting in metro reading a book. A novel of course. After some time, I realised that my mind was at unusually at peace and every other person appeared to be chaotic to me.  Uncle sitting near me was busy in his phone, as were half of the people in metro. A lady was struggling to keep her child in one place and was repeatedly failing at it as the echo of that child reached the top. Everytime train stops he rolls down there. Trying to ignore the commotion around me, I was trying to finish that one line I was trying to read since five minutes.  I realised one thing that day. Whatever your mind goes through, a good book can help it get back to normal. Not meditation, not prayers, nothing. The great author Ruskin Bond says “I write for those people, who even today, buy books from the shop and read. I like to sow the seeds of happiness through each page I write and would like to do it for the rest of my life.”

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He sat at the desk, tears once again filling his eyes. Looking at the pile of letters makes his heart break a little, every time he sees them.  He needed them to be real, but they were never mailed.  They had no actual destination, just in his imagination. It’s the way he handles it, learned to deal with it, otherwise he couldn’t go on. Every day he writes another, some days more than one. he notes the weather, what’s blooming in the garden, what friends he met for dinner, all casual conversations he would have said to her if she were near.  And then the love is written, expressing his passion for her and how he wished she was there. He speaks of his loneliness when he goes to bed at night without her. He tells her how much he misses her and longs to join her. He writes these words every day.  When the week is done he gathers them in a ribbon and attaches a rose. He makes the journey to her grave and leaves them there.  He knows she finds them because each time he returns, they’

Hello... I am your diary. I am considered as everyone's best friend. Everyone pens down their story on me. everyone know I can hide their feeling and will not judge them. I will just listen them quietly. Silently telling them i will be with you. Now it’s time to reveal my truth, to make hear my words and journey of my life. I have seen many eyes in the form of species called humans. Till the time I’m made to sold I see people has feeling of getting earned through me. My cleaned pages and attractive covering will tell the amount of food they earn and keeping me in the visibility of his owner so that I could be sold out for his survival. He created me for his own needs. After getting sold out. I’m under the control of another owner I don’t know what kind of owner is he, whether an office worker, student, teacher, writer, poet, or just simply a person. When she/he opened me first I was legally given Authority of the person i am sold to.. By getting the name and identity ment