“Read a thousand books, and your words will flow like a river.”
― Lisa See
I have an addiction-writing. The rapturous delight of writing brings about the utmost ecstasy of sharing the obscured feelings I have in the hope that there are people out there reading them. And through my words, if hearts could be touched, believe me, it is the highest award that a writer could ever procure. I ardently hope to do that through my tales.
Welcome to my world, Biblichor.
“Why do you waste your time like this?”,
a passerby asked a sanyasi sitting by the riverside.
He remained silent.
“Don’t you want to live a life?”
Without opening his eyes, in a voice deeper from within him asked back.
“You have lived your life?”
“I have. I still do. I have started a family, I own a house, and I own a business. made money, finding ways to make more, so I can live happily”, he replied egoistically.
“You think you will be happy in the end?”
“Yes, I have owned everything”
But with one reply from the Sanyasi, his ego was broken to smithereens.
“You don’t own your breath”
“Why are you alone, Babaji?”
The hot summer evening saw the usual bustling.
The street was similar to the ones shown by the white men in their films, it was brushed with a tinge of yellow blanketed by the dust from the vehicles and by the smoke rising from the street stalls.
The aroma of spices that marked the Indian culture made the scene picturesque.
But the white-bearded man resting peacefully among this chaos was what caught Brooke’s eyes.
He had come from Britain to find why the thought of India attracted him the most. And at the sight of the old man who had a slight grin on his face, he knew exactly where to ask.
Babaji was sitting with his eyes closed, the question was heard but he remained silent.
Brooke touched his feet and said, “Please do answer my question, Babaji, I would like to know my purpose here”.
Brooke was startled by a voice that was deep yet calm like the ocean.
“What brought you here is your purpose, young man.”
“But I don’t understand”.
“You will.”
Babaji stood up from his trance, touched Brooke’s head and began to recede away, moving peacefully like a bubble floating above the chaotic waves of the ocean.
Brooke was flabbergasted by what he saw. Everything around him vanished, he felt his whole body vibrate in the rhythm of the universe while his eyes reflected his true self.
It felt like hours before he opened his eyes but it took only two minutes, he realised. He searched for Babaji, and he spotted him far away moving at the same pace, the pace of the Universe.
I am in love.
I can see him in the couple’s eyes
when they stare at each other.
I can see him when a mother
looks at her kids.
I can see him when a newborn lays his eyes
at his parents.
I can see him in the nutrients that lie beneath and in the stars that align the sky.
Every day, he gifts us beautiful flowers and scrumptious fruits.
His presence is exigent, ’cause he is in the water, air, and light.
He is in you.
Everything is his manifestation.
And I can never be ignorant of his love.
Yes, God is my lover and I am forever his.
We all are.
We all belong to him.
“We have been talking about your works till now, being a writer is sure ecstatic but what are the other things you do at your leisure?”
“Oh yes, I love languages and I proudly say I am a polyglot.”
“Oh that’s wonderful sir, and your readers would surely like to know your favorite language, from the languages you have learned so far, which one has captivated you?”
“The one I learned first”
“Your mother tongue?”
“No, it comes second, the one that comes first for me is the language of love.”
Serenity being nature’s demeanor,
yonder stands a tree on a poised hill,
shadowing the sorrows of life that lies below
the clear sky and above the crystal sea,
symbolizing the truth beyond naked eyes,
so I sit beneath it with closed eyes,
listening to earthly aroma
gifted by the muted breeze
that comes uninvitedly and
brushes a strand of my hair,
it feels like the caresses from God,
and it feels like home.
“I can’t wait anymore”, she said.
“Wait for what?”, he asked
“For you to fall in love with me”, she replied.
“When I saw you with her,
my heart felt heavy, that night
I bawled my eyes out,
the tears were rampant.
Never thought about love but
to my surprise, that was the
moment I realized I was in love .”
She chuckled and said,
“No one in this world would
have realized love and had broken
heart together like I did”.
Staring into his eyes, she added
“Love is the strongest emotion,
it can push you into the depths
of despair or it can lead you to the
purest of blissfulness, the former
happens if you search it from outside,
And I have been through it. The latter
is what I have learned lately.
You are the reason for it.
Hope you are happy with her.”
“I don’t know what to say, I am speechless “, he sat numb.
“You don’t have to say anything,
you already showed me, thank you
because now I have my closure”.
“He’s with someone else”
She kept telling herself
Yet
Each time she said,
she was breaking apart
by falling for him hard.
The author of the most prestigious horror series decided to take a break. To escape from all the paparazzi and cacophony, he chose to stay at the lake house owned by his family for generations. Even though he hated the place so much, it was his only option.
The trees outside swayed with creepiness. And the winds quavered queerly. Alone, he decided to watch a movie. “Dark”, a cassette on the shelf read. Unable to find anything else, he played it on. “You call this horror, duh” he chuckled after watching it for some time .
He was awoken by a scream. The TV was on and screeching, assuming the cassette was stuck, he switched it off and went to the kitchen to grab something to quench his hunger. While he was in the kitchen, he felt the scream as real as ever. He began to ponder about it and accidentally poured the milk on the floor.
“Arghhh”, he grumbled. While cleaning it, to his bemusement he heard the scream once again, a shrill one compared to the first. His instinct made him feel unsafe but as an author who writes the most overrated eerie stories his curiousness won over. He grabbed his jacket and scrambled outside and ran in the direction of the scream.
The woods seemed to be waiting for its prey, their eyes followed the running man towards the shabby bridge near the lake. The scream died when he reached there. Breathless from all the running, he searched for the source. His eyes fixed on a girl far ahead of the lake, she was gasping for air and drowning.
Without a second thought, he jumped on the ramshackle boat hoarded near the bridge and grabbed the moss-covered oar, and started to row towards her. He kept his eyes on the target but his oar got stuck in some weed beneath and he lost the direction.
He kept on rowing until he reached the point where he had seen the girl. He looked around and saw the hem of the girl’s dress, afraid she might have drowned, he rowed vigorously and leaned over and got hold of it.
He pulled hard but fell back and realized that he was holding on to a torn piece of dress. “That’s mine”, a voice was heard. He got startled and turned around to see a girl sitting on the other side. His mind was in utter shock. A cold eerie breeze brushed past her, he glanced at her dress and saw it was torn apart. The full moon shone bright and he was bewildered. She was legless. He felt a chill at the back of his neck. He glowed at her in terror realizing that he was in a story he will never be able to write.
“Who am I?”, the question we forgot to ask since our birth.
Our story began smoothly with a ‘hai’.
I was writing it.
The first few chapters were heart throbbing.
Words were inspired by him.
Secrets started to spill.
The Chapters started to get filled with passion.
And the story urged with heat.
Fate wrote the lines to destiny.
The destiny I had wished for us.
I was wrong.
I realized the last chapter was already written.
He was already in his “happily ever after”.
He was the author and I was just a pawn.
The second I realise this life is nothing
is the moment I am waiting for.
Woke up bemused by the piano read in my dream, it was uncanny.
Coming to my sense I heard the same music being played from my garage.
I was petrified realising that I was alone in a house without a piano.
Dear Diary,
I hope you are well my dear friend. If you may ask the same, I am feeling utmost pleasure at present too. Thinking about whom I should say about what I have felt, there is no one more perfect than you. It’s about my secret admirer. Yes, there is something about him I can’t quite put my hand on but I am pretty sure he had fallen hard for me. On different occasions, he had proven his feelings for me obscuring his actions from others but it has caught my eyes recently. Putting together the pieces of the puzzle, there is no other answer more suitable than what I would say ‘Love’. Heard of the fact that people go miles for Love and turns out it is in fact the truth.
Oh! I forgot to tell you, my school pals decided on a soiree, yes, I am enthralled about meeting them. Enthused about sharing with them the stories about the past years we were separated. But one thing that matters to me is him again. I am sure if this rendezvous we are planning comes into his knowledge, through thick and thin he would try to bring his presence there, for he can have a sight of me. When we were all together in the past, I remember the smile, stare and glances he showered secretly at me, hidden from others.
Only if he knew.
He just couldn’t keep his eyes off me I would say though normally these kinds of doings cause vexation but the truth is I have grown to like the way he looks at me, the warmth of his affection could be felt just from his stare.And I am perplexed by the muse about the wonders his mere touch or his lips could do.
The thought of him excites me yet petrifies me because I still can’t accept the one fact Diary, the one fact that I have fallen for him too.
“For better or for worse”
I paused,
“I am letting you go”.
It was the first time.
The first time I got rejected.
Unexpected, it broke me apart.
It felt like a thousand stones weighing
down my heart.
She said no.
Even though she knew
it was my favourite choclate bar.
Scared as hell I glanced behind in search of the dying screams and weeping squeals, my shadow glanced back.
Biblichor 