Helpless

Helpless

By Sarvesh AntapurkarNo Comments
Helpless.   Haven't you ever felt so?   Seeing things and not able to change the wrong.   But wrongs had always been there, then it dawns.   However, helplessness? Perhaps not.   Then what made the wrong to stay so?   Was it the silence?  Or had it been the rotten core?   To change the wrong the question always arrived   We ignore and name it helplessness. (Can that be denied?)   Aren't we at the stage yet where we are aware of it and need to change it?   Or would it take some more sisters, homies and lovers to be molested before it?   Is it really the issue with the society as a whole?   Or is it just merely us on a personal chore?   It's been long now. Long enough to bear and be helpless.   It's time to make those wrong helpless. ©The Honest Fabler — Sarvesh Antapurkar ©Image Source — Google Images...
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Murder in the woods

Murder in the woods

By Riya Singh18 Comments
  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.   MURDER IN THE WOODS Near the woods... The auburn sky was an ocean of clouds, seemingly painted by the brush of a Renaissance painter. The sun was about to dive beyond the horizon, casting our shadows far behind us and a piercing shriek broke the silence around us. We were startled by the sheer agony in the scream. It seemed to have come from the thick woods in front of us. We ran towards the source and found a man covered in blood. Ariana panicked and started trembling with fear. I went a little closer. (more…)...
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Caged

Caged

By Riya Singh8 Comments
It was early morning when Ama woke me up by hitting my bony shoulders. I got up without making much sound because Ba didn't like noise in the morning. After changing into a few rags, we both left the makeshift room where we have been living in for a year. It's located amongst the slums at the back of the opulent street where the rich people live. Ama and I followed the usual route that we take to reach the nearest railway station. En route to the station, Ama took the baby from the lady called Sumu. The baby was not moving much as usual. He's always quiet as if he's dead. We reached the station and our daily routine began. I attracted the people who were waiting for the trains by pleading them to give me something to eat. I repeated the words that Ama had been teaching me since forever to get food. 'Kuch de... Bhuk lagi... Nahi khaya......
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A Miserable Truth — World Poetry Day!

A Miserable Truth — World Poetry Day!

By Ashutosh Gursale4 Comments
Before I begin, a belated Happy World Poetry Day to each one of you! I know I'm late, but better late than never! On this eventful occasion, I would like to bring the following miserable topic out of the darkness. Let's discuss about it once you've read the poem. I'd really want to know what you think about this particular tragedy surrounding us, which (talking for myself) has been an elephant in the room all my life. (more…)...
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