Brightshare

  I looked outside the window  and discovered a morning enveloped by  fog  and again fantasized it as a land of angels  for my meeting to live a great, and beautiful life. The parrot cried from the nearby tree and I heard the morning song to prove myself alive  amid the nature  over the mother earth  who every moment becomes kinder  before myself lost in the abyss. I recalled my literary days,  the cheers,  the awards, the hopes,  the dreams to win the marathon  amid claps of friends and family. My eyes filled with tears,  rolled out ,  evaporated in the atmosphere marking me a loser.  I fell down... Again tried again be ready to run. My legs became friendly My mind opened the secret door of dreams. Aging I avoided,  polished my grey hairs,  put some makeup on my face  and looked into the mirror. I smiled as I rediscovered myself . I avoided the laughter around  when I approached the clos...

 Dear Krishna, Have you ever remember me?I think to ask you such question at this stage of life is not so simple as we never expected.Long past there was a temple in the mid town where we used to go and play with our other friends. The temple was small ,unique and the old man who was their worshiping God was our chief subject of gossip. I used to sip the drops of holy water being distributed by the old man where tulshi patta was floating. Those days were beautiful, tension free and full of joy.

  People say it is easy to write memoir But, in my opinion,it is not so easy to open the door of your personal world for the people around. Still every word you write has flavor  of your personal experience may it be your own or of other you know. So, your every story, your essays, even your poem are your memoir painted with colors . The literary world  welcome everything  as it has magic to forgive and forget. Your memoir is immortal.

  Write whatever you like, Write what you want… Writing will help you To face the world, Writing will help you to get respect. It is an amazing business, It will remain immortal… It will speak your wishes to other, The likeminded people will listen you For a better world. So, Write, write and write… Till the end of path.

  Each writer at times faces writers block what was earlier beyond my own thought. But it happens. It happens, because we are human being and we have also some limits in each of our action. It happens, because there are many things in this earth to break our journey. It happens, because sometime our protagonist wants not to move and sit somewhere to rest. It happens, So, we should not be mocked by anyone who don’t know us and lives a social life. We are special. So, we should move on in our path bribing our characters to smell the aroma in the end. Of course, tragic end may inspire our reader to purchase our book. But I wish to see joy in my protagonist.

It is beyond any word to describe the depth of sunshine, the feelings, the aroma. It was a quiet morning. The path was beautiful, of course in my eyes, as I was enjoying the fallen leaves and petals of flowers. I preferred walking to smell the nature. I got a squirrel with four brown bird collecting food under a mango tree. I found a butterfly was competing with me and I speed up my pace. At last, the butterfly became tired and sat over the green leaf of a wild tree. Talking nature… under the sunshine my palms were filled with flower petals to weave a dream in leisure and again, share it with all. Sunshine was beautiful and was penetrating in each cell to recall my childhood days . I loved it

  It is not easy But it is the adventure to join a job, and to earn money. Today I meet my junior after a long gap, joined their tea party. Under the aroma of tea I rediscovered my talent. One of them appreciated What I write, And my plan to be a full-time author after retirement. I left them with sparks of smile. I could feel myself a different person, Confident, full of hope and dream to earn money… till the day I bade farewell to this beautiful earth.

  I swear, it was a love letter Inside that old box and it was about to vanish As it was so old. ଏମିତି ଅନେକ ଚିଠି ଖୁବ ପୁରୁଣା, ଶେଷ ଅବସ୍ଥାରେ ... ତଥାପି ମାନେ ହୁଏ ଅତୀତ ଏବେବି ସେଠି ଝଲମଲ। Old were the letters Most of them were in the dead end, Still, I felt… As if past was alive there.

  Whenever I think about my father, I always recall the morning when at class six I tried to compare my palms with his palms, and he laughed a lot. He did not say anything, only laughed. I also joined him. But  I was confused. (I am still confused) He was always with me in my days of achievements as well as in my days of depression and failure. He is no more in this world now to see my achievements and laugh. ****** I can never forget you bapa. ~Sarojini~

  Months are arriving and leaving. Without your footprints over the bay of time , the joy of a winner you can never feel. The footprints I mean your achievements. It is not about waking up or sleeping or doing your daily work. It is about something that may make you proud. So, you have to choose and create your destiny. You have to focus. you have to learn to know your opportunities. You have to set goal, focus and achieve it.  It is not so easy. I am writing to be a good writer. But, I am not living a writer's life. Then can it be possible to walk in this way? Behind every achievement lots of hard work we can discover. Without writing one can never be a writer. This happens in each sphere of society. Without hard work and practice one can never feel the achiever's winning enjoyment. We always see the end product. We appreciate. But, we never try to know the hard work behind it. We say them lucky person and always avoid the opportunities around us due to our own lazy behavior....

    It was a rainy day... It was a sunny day... It was a clod day, It was winter... It was spring with koyel and flowers... All day we remember passes... Step by step... Each day  Each moment We have are precious 'cause, we never meet them again... Wonderful... God have created everything to pass away... Mortal... But its essence is mysterious, magical, musical... We can keep everything in our mind  to recall... To dream... To be wise...

  You wished... wishes bloomed  to think and rethink sun,  dived in the west.  I planned for a novel basing on your journey from countryside to the metro city and i confused as i saw your mom still in a dark corner not knowing the world around pathetic i thought yet i blocked by negatives only to find a coy place for her in my story.

 It was evening. Sun was to set in the west. I was in my kitchen, but listening the busy city. I thought to have a cup of tea and relax. The evening sky was turning gold, the drifting hopes. Time was jumping towrds blurry darkness.Two birds I saw flying from west to east, perhaps returning to their nest. changing images  shades  never blocks  a fly to home. ~sarojini