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About the Blog



"No one has control over thoughts. So why waste them jot them down instead".
This blog is a result of all those deep, dark, gloomy, intense, and profound thoughts popping inside the writer's head. This is the place that a user shall visit and shall not leave without gaining anything. It may include introspection, self-realization, brain storming, virtue, laughter, content, tear, excitement; anything. It shall include short stories, essays, poems or merely conversations between some fictional characters; covering a variety of genres and all leading towards justifying the title. The sole mission behind creating this blog is to bring out the emotions hidden inside an introvert human heart and let them flow throughout the script.

Ideas and suggestions are always welcomed

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ONE WEIRD OLD MAN

An old man done with his life, sitting at a sea shore, recalling the days he has lived. Days of happiness, sorrows, troubles and regrets, all were coming to life as the cool breeze gently touched his head. He didn't have a successful life, life that he dreame d of when he was a teen. Complex situations compelled him to relapse, resisted him to live the life he dreamed. Family, friends and enemies left some unwanted situations, on which he worked, against his dreams and aspirations. Tears were rolling down his eyes, of happiness, sorrow or regret? Even the poet couldn't understand it for a while. Sometimes he sobbed, sometimes he yelled, there were even moments when he hurrahed. A cup of tea and a sandwich were his sole companions. By dusk, even they left him in complete desolation. A teenager, not afar, influenced by his isolation, stepped towards him and his seclusion. With utmost concern he asked about the matter, The anguished m...
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A SLEEPLESS NIGHTMARE

A flashback of all the things happened, dawn to dusk, runs right through my mind. Eyes closed but mind wide awake. A balmy dramatic music being played in the background. All my nerves focusing and introspecting- Things that happened, things that could have happened. Harsh words I said, polite words I could have said. Arguments I ran into, arguments I could have avoided. Things I worked upon, things I could have worked instead. Time I wasted, time I could have saved. People I made cry, people I could have made smile. Consequently my breath turns heavy and I get anxious. I get up to calm myself, to have a glass of water. Convince myself not to think, and sleep, to continue my work in the day ahead. The moment I lay down, the thought process resumes. My nerves now give me glimpses of a failed dream - Dream that I wanted to work upon but didn't. Dream that I wished to pursue but couldn't. Dream that I can still live but don't. “But if ...
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