My school bus conductor would scream out “Moti, bhaag!” expecting me to run faster from my house till the school bus already waiting for me outside the gate of our building. I don’t remember much about how I felt about it, frankly speaking.
Nothing has changed. . .
I still cry the same tears for a past unforgotten.
I still laugh with the same people who were always there.
But a fear of losing all of this tumbles down a shiver down the back now.
The winning poetic entries and the participant entries based on the prompt A SUN MELTS ON MY PALM
Say NO to emotional abuse
She sat on the chair at her desk and looked outside. Her eyes first reached the blue in […]
Read Part 1 here When she reached at the door, she rang the doorbell frenziedly. When Nitin opened […]
“Wait, wait! Don’t keep the dishes in the sink yet.” Renuka hurried to the kitchen following Urmi. “Why? […]
Oh! I’m not angry. It’s called dry sarcasm. I’m just Chandler!
Do you suffer from the Monica syndrome?
Work has doubled. The constant paranoia of wanting everything superclean has started to overwhelm me. I didn’t have a maid even before this phase, ‘cos I’m never satisfied with their lethargy. But I’m suddenly missing the ability to have a maid.