THE INTROVERT EXTROVERT❤️
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She realied on herself,
Cuz she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#akshita #review #poem
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She realied on herself,
Cuz she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#akshita #review #poem
THE INTROVERT EXTROVERT❤️
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She realied on herself,
Cuz she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#akshita #review #poem
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She realied on herself,
Cuz she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#akshita #review #poem
#review
this is really good
I feel this is my journey and I enjoyed it but I think you should describe more as you wrote this was the longest journey of your life.
In the starting, it seems good and interesting but I think in the last you haste
But it was good I really enjoyed it. Keep writing
I will wait for your next work
this is really good
I feel this is my journey and I enjoyed it but I think you should describe more as you wrote this was the longest journey of your life.
In the starting, it seems good and interesting but I think in the last you haste
But it was good I really enjoyed it. Keep writing
I will wait for your next work
#review #Go #prose
Title: The Bastard Prince
PART-1: Epilogue
Between the leafs of a dawn, the poet’s soul arises, the writer’s spirit writes, and the head of a Mathematician goes far beyond. But underneath those, there was a boy, no less a man than the others, and a girl whom by Wagner the queen of Valkyries was called. The Dark was shown upon London, and the bright shores of the Thames, no Leader, no Queen nor King, the vicious people appeared, the river was full of Dark mysteries, but how come such proud river allowed the invaders with their tools and fools, with their machines and means, that were never seen before, struck London Bridge with a cannon so powerful, we had thought the sun was beneath our own noses. But a conquest is no more than a act of treason to ourselves, as the British people tried before, now beasts and beings of another world do as they pleased, we betray ourselves for thinking we are the ones in control, but believe in these words, no will is left uncontrolled and there’s no action that doesn’t have another with the same strength. The boy, with the small stature, that was no man, leads another army, but was it the English? Was it the Vicious? No, another one. The boy that shall be know as William, the protector, was once just another orphan, but now, he has become the greatest of men. The Army of William makes a stand in Westminster, alongside his wife, he shouts:
- Today we may die, but nevertheless, we will live forever. Who of you are with me? – And by that cry of victory, the Armies confront turns, who will conquer? Who will die?
Title: The Bastard Prince
PART-1: Epilogue
Between the leafs of a dawn, the poet’s soul arises, the writer’s spirit writes, and the head of a Mathematician goes far beyond. But underneath those, there was a boy, no less a man than the others, and a girl whom by Wagner the queen of Valkyries was called. The Dark was shown upon London, and the bright shores of the Thames, no Leader, no Queen nor King, the vicious people appeared, the river was full of Dark mysteries, but how come such proud river allowed the invaders with their tools and fools, with their machines and means, that were never seen before, struck London Bridge with a cannon so powerful, we had thought the sun was beneath our own noses. But a conquest is no more than a act of treason to ourselves, as the British people tried before, now beasts and beings of another world do as they pleased, we betray ourselves for thinking we are the ones in control, but believe in these words, no will is left uncontrolled and there’s no action that doesn’t have another with the same strength. The boy, with the small stature, that was no man, leads another army, but was it the English? Was it the Vicious? No, another one. The boy that shall be know as William, the protector, was once just another orphan, but now, he has become the greatest of men. The Army of William makes a stand in Westminster, alongside his wife, he shouts:
- Today we may die, but nevertheless, we will live forever. Who of you are with me? – And by that cry of victory, the Armies confront turns, who will conquer? Who will die?
THE INTROVERT EXTROVERT❤️
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She relied on herself,
Cause she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#poem #review #akshita
An introvert in people's eye,
Was an extrovert at heart..
She was known to be shy
But talking was her art..
She kept things to herself,
Her thoughts were stars,
She relied on herself,
Cause she has had many scars..
She knew what's her power
She was a blooming flower,
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful.
She was now graceful,
And not anymore fearful..!!
#poem #review #akshita
Good Old Kim Jong
Hey, everybody! I am kim Jong,
I am the ruler of my own kingdom.
Dicipline maintained like dumb Dom
He just doesn't seem like a dom.
Indeed he’s a Don.
Ohh really, he looks like chubby doll.
But he is busy on a call.
So let's go to next mall to buy new doll.
Where he crawls in the mall full of dolls, lol.
He was invited to every stall.
But folks refused to give him a doll.
And he floats, dull.
Now he got thrown out on the roads.
But the road is full of snow.
So he slipped with easy go.
Snow man got us glow.
And dumb Jong started to bloat.
So the dumb Jong took off his coat.
But Jong is so dumb he passed an abusive blow.
The air current got us below.
And just like that we went by flow.
Jong is completely Kong who understands only monk.
Thus Kong becomes funk,
with a head filled with snow.
But Jong is now thinking of something which happened long ago.
So he becomes sad and cursed his ego.
Then he meets his amigo.
Who still has a white flamingo.
But it still looks like akimbo.
But he feels like mo gembo.
To play the piano.
Does he even own a piano?
It's a secret as Jong doesn't even know.
But no one cared, so let's hit the boll.
The sol sobbed and roll.
And hit him in the face, poor Jong.
But wait! Our little jong wants to ding dong.
But it was night so he went home and rang the bell (ring rong).
It reminded him of his favourite song.
The melody never made him feel wrong.
Because it makes him feel strong.
And want to fly so long.
But a heavy weight he had to drag along.
Now he is feeling like King - Kong.
And the ground felt like his rage ring.
He hit his foes with one swing.
But it looks like none other than a zing.
And flapped his heavenly wings.
Just then, his body felt a ting.
And he's looking for something to cling.
And he made a little fling
Which caused the wind to sting.
Now our little Jong is searching for the missing string.
While having something to drink.
Then, he found the link
But he smells something that stinks.
He saw a ghost that was sweet enough to wink.
It also wore a pink mink.
I think it needs to see a shrink.
and it's where John feels like he is on a brink.
And finally the ghost, in the darkness, it sinks.
*Authors note - This Poem is a collaborative effort of 6 people namingly - Praveen, Tejas, Anonymous, Ladulal, Sor3h and Sheetal.
I hope you will like it, please drop your constructive feedbacks 😊.
#review #GCA #Comedy
Hey, everybody! I am kim Jong,
I am the ruler of my own kingdom.
Dicipline maintained like dumb Dom
He just doesn't seem like a dom.
Indeed he’s a Don.
Ohh really, he looks like chubby doll.
But he is busy on a call.
So let's go to next mall to buy new doll.
Where he crawls in the mall full of dolls, lol.
He was invited to every stall.
But folks refused to give him a doll.
And he floats, dull.
Now he got thrown out on the roads.
But the road is full of snow.
So he slipped with easy go.
Snow man got us glow.
And dumb Jong started to bloat.
So the dumb Jong took off his coat.
But Jong is so dumb he passed an abusive blow.
The air current got us below.
And just like that we went by flow.
Jong is completely Kong who understands only monk.
Thus Kong becomes funk,
with a head filled with snow.
But Jong is now thinking of something which happened long ago.
So he becomes sad and cursed his ego.
Then he meets his amigo.
Who still has a white flamingo.
But it still looks like akimbo.
But he feels like mo gembo.
To play the piano.
Does he even own a piano?
It's a secret as Jong doesn't even know.
But no one cared, so let's hit the boll.
The sol sobbed and roll.
And hit him in the face, poor Jong.
But wait! Our little jong wants to ding dong.
But it was night so he went home and rang the bell (ring rong).
It reminded him of his favourite song.
The melody never made him feel wrong.
Because it makes him feel strong.
And want to fly so long.
But a heavy weight he had to drag along.
Now he is feeling like King - Kong.
And the ground felt like his rage ring.
He hit his foes with one swing.
But it looks like none other than a zing.
And flapped his heavenly wings.
Just then, his body felt a ting.
And he's looking for something to cling.
And he made a little fling
Which caused the wind to sting.
Now our little Jong is searching for the missing string.
While having something to drink.
Then, he found the link
But he smells something that stinks.
He saw a ghost that was sweet enough to wink.
It also wore a pink mink.
I think it needs to see a shrink.
and it's where John feels like he is on a brink.
And finally the ghost, in the darkness, it sinks.
*Authors note - This Poem is a collaborative effort of 6 people namingly - Praveen, Tejas, Anonymous, Ladulal, Sor3h and Sheetal.
I hope you will like it, please drop your constructive feedbacks 😊.
#review #GCA #Comedy
Futile attemps
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shreded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review #AT
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shreded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review #AT
Everytime you noticed my eyes transfixed upon you, I was worshipping your beauty, not only which the naked eyes relished upon but also that which nestled in the deeper whereabouts of your soul. When I said ''I love you" I promised it with utmost sincerity, with each and every unit of my body. I meant it till absolute infinity, even when the sun forgets its shine, the heavens break loose, and our skies burst open to rain hellfire.
#review
#review
Futile attempts
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shredded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shredded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review
WHY I LEFT HER HANDS
I ask to myself ,why I left her hands ;
While diving in sleep,crying in grief,
Was standing side by me still,
While walking on streets ,
While crying for sweets ,
I held her hand tightly very still.
In darkening of sun,
In lightning of dawn,
I caught her hand and held it still.
In days to school,
In ways to home ,
I held her hand tightest when gloom .
Wonder I now why i left her,
sun -moon working feathery hands;
They helped me to fly ,
and got me beyond the sky.
I still wonder why i left those
perfect base for beauty ring.
The sun got past,the moon was last:
She vanished to another sky ,
Now I with my watering eyes,
wonder why i left her hand ,
She went up the sky and i down in gloom.
Notions thou wrong,who left her hand;
Die i now with ring in hand .
Her life went out but thy hands weigh still.
#poem #review
I ask to myself ,why I left her hands ;
While diving in sleep,crying in grief,
Was standing side by me still,
While walking on streets ,
While crying for sweets ,
I held her hand tightly very still.
In darkening of sun,
In lightning of dawn,
I caught her hand and held it still.
In days to school,
In ways to home ,
I held her hand tightest when gloom .
Wonder I now why i left her,
sun -moon working feathery hands;
They helped me to fly ,
and got me beyond the sky.
I still wonder why i left those
perfect base for beauty ring.
The sun got past,the moon was last:
She vanished to another sky ,
Now I with my watering eyes,
wonder why i left her hand ,
She went up the sky and i down in gloom.
Notions thou wrong,who left her hand;
Die i now with ring in hand .
Her life went out but thy hands weigh still.
#poem #review
#scene
Even the weather accompanied the sobby mood , It was raining and thundering so hard that even my glass windows shook convulsively , there was light coming from my window but it still felt gloomy , It felt as if some one has kept on me a 10 pounds wait which my chest couldn't bear .
The aura around was not even worth looking the lights were set off ,though the room was filled with lots of houshold stuff still the nature of it was tainted as void . I could smell the grass an the whisphers of ghowling air . I just closed my eyes and threw myself in a never ending black hole of disfair ,ambiguity and sorrow. #review
Even the weather accompanied the sobby mood , It was raining and thundering so hard that even my glass windows shook convulsively , there was light coming from my window but it still felt gloomy , It felt as if some one has kept on me a 10 pounds wait which my chest couldn't bear .
The aura around was not even worth looking the lights were set off ,though the room was filled with lots of houshold stuff still the nature of it was tainted as void . I could smell the grass an the whisphers of ghowling air . I just closed my eyes and threw myself in a never ending black hole of disfair ,ambiguity and sorrow. #review
Futile attemps
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shreded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review #AT
I sit and i sew.
I hold piercing pain and i try to sew every inch of loose hem.
I sew them with darts to reach beneath the crumbled fields of desire.
While i invest in my own rebirth, i prick them with seeming past.
I disgrace myself with blotches and strive to blemish those patches.
I continue to knit my shreded self and scrape the remnants in futile attempts.
#review #AT
I light a lamp
On the day of colors of lights ,
when all houses glitter all night;
I show lamp to almighty bright ,
Come to my door O heaven's alight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life ,
stand alone I holding light
on the brightened day at night .
O almighty! bless us right ,
Our shapes of colors at midnight;
Lamp I burn unto your sight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life
Stand alone I at midnight
Holding with love ,
perfect molded clay of light.
The earth gets light ;
The sky burns bright ;
never you know you light ,
match to your eternal life.
But the houses grin with laugh
I light a lamp to my immortal lord.
#review
On the day of colors of lights ,
when all houses glitter all night;
I show lamp to almighty bright ,
Come to my door O heaven's alight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life ,
stand alone I holding light
on the brightened day at night .
O almighty! bless us right ,
Our shapes of colors at midnight;
Lamp I burn unto your sight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life
Stand alone I at midnight
Holding with love ,
perfect molded clay of light.
The earth gets light ;
The sky burns bright ;
never you know you light ,
match to your eternal life.
But the houses grin with laugh
I light a lamp to my immortal lord.
#review
I light a lamp
On the day of colors of lights ,
when all houses glitter all night;
I show lamp to almighty bright ,
Come to my door O heaven's alight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life ,
stand alone I holding light
on the brightened day at night .
O almighty! bless us right ,
Our shapes of colors at midnight;
Lamp I burn unto your sight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life
Stand alone I at midnight
Holding with love ,
perfect molded clay of light.
The earth gets light ;
The sky burns bright ;
never you know you light ,
match to your eternal life.
But the houses grin with laugh
I light a lamp to my immortal lord. #review
On the day of colors of lights ,
when all houses glitter all night;
I show lamp to almighty bright ,
Come to my door O heaven's alight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life ,
stand alone I holding light
on the brightened day at night .
O almighty! bless us right ,
Our shapes of colors at midnight;
Lamp I burn unto your sight ,
To shine my eternal lifeless life
Stand alone I at midnight
Holding with love ,
perfect molded clay of light.
The earth gets light ;
The sky burns bright ;
never you know you light ,
match to your eternal life.
But the houses grin with laugh
I light a lamp to my immortal lord. #review
A fragment of sunlight lit my face,
My saddened heart picked up pace.!!
The mistakes i have done
Were suddenly forgotten..
The emptiness within me was filled,
The surroundings were now thrilled..
I didn't blame myself anymore,
The lost sea now found its shore
The lost sea now found its shore..!!
#akshita #review #poem
My saddened heart picked up pace.!!
The mistakes i have done
Were suddenly forgotten..
The emptiness within me was filled,
The surroundings were now thrilled..
I didn't blame myself anymore,
The lost sea now found its shore
The lost sea now found its shore..!!
#akshita #review #poem
#review #Go #prose
Title: The Bastard Prince
PART-2 A Boy
The Morning was imperative, the dark tone of the birds sang, houses of the suburbs now face that great challenge, the awakening. That everyone awakes, is no more than a lie, as there are the dumb lazy, and the smart lazy. But why should anyone awake? Why should anyone try to force themselves upon a destiny of poverty, if not more poverty? We can’t and we won’t know, but it’s those who face themselves with a challenge to be better, that move, yet a boy wouldn’t. The boy, that was named after his father, Edward, doesn’t want, the meaningless of moving out of bed scares him, so the blankets forge a fortress for him. A Crow, appears, and the boy sees him, staring at him, with two different eyes, a dark one in which life travels for despair, the other, bright and white, as the non-seeing eye, makes a prophecy of greatness and adventure, but which to trust? Does he really want such greatness after all? Al the thoughts disappeared, and he, already awaken, goes to the restroom, washes his face, stares at mirror, with a dead face, and says: ‘Let’s hope they aren’t at the school’. After that he has breakfast, with the little bread he had, with the little milk he had robbed, his mother didn’t worked, a depressive and unstable person, couldn’t hold a job for more than 1 week, being fired several times. So she would just drink Whisky all day, and after that cry herself to sleep. The house, a small apartment in the suburbs, was rotten, the walls were all yellow and black, as the smoke from the cigarettes didn’t forget. But he just accepted, he just couldn’t care about other things than paying bills, and also studying for the exams. The boy, who everyone called Robbins, was a quiet one, didn’t speak to the teachers too much, and didn’t interact with the students, as much as he could…
Title: The Bastard Prince
PART-2 A Boy
The Morning was imperative, the dark tone of the birds sang, houses of the suburbs now face that great challenge, the awakening. That everyone awakes, is no more than a lie, as there are the dumb lazy, and the smart lazy. But why should anyone awake? Why should anyone try to force themselves upon a destiny of poverty, if not more poverty? We can’t and we won’t know, but it’s those who face themselves with a challenge to be better, that move, yet a boy wouldn’t. The boy, that was named after his father, Edward, doesn’t want, the meaningless of moving out of bed scares him, so the blankets forge a fortress for him. A Crow, appears, and the boy sees him, staring at him, with two different eyes, a dark one in which life travels for despair, the other, bright and white, as the non-seeing eye, makes a prophecy of greatness and adventure, but which to trust? Does he really want such greatness after all? Al the thoughts disappeared, and he, already awaken, goes to the restroom, washes his face, stares at mirror, with a dead face, and says: ‘Let’s hope they aren’t at the school’. After that he has breakfast, with the little bread he had, with the little milk he had robbed, his mother didn’t worked, a depressive and unstable person, couldn’t hold a job for more than 1 week, being fired several times. So she would just drink Whisky all day, and after that cry herself to sleep. The house, a small apartment in the suburbs, was rotten, the walls were all yellow and black, as the smoke from the cigarettes didn’t forget. But he just accepted, he just couldn’t care about other things than paying bills, and also studying for the exams. The boy, who everyone called Robbins, was a quiet one, didn’t speak to the teachers too much, and didn’t interact with the students, as much as he could…
The way the sky is...
I feel very calm
Has an aura of its owm
Nothing compared to its charm
The clouds that surround it
Feels like the work of divine
Blowing in its own rhythm
Drunk in its own wine.
Sometimes they roar
And bless us with rain
Just The beauty of the drops
Nothing more to gain
Sky is full of wonder
Lightning too makes us feel
Just how small we are
To nature we should kneel.
It does exist
And also it does not
It's the mystery of nature
Known by those who sought
Something is beyond
Beyond the sky
The abode of divine
Or something more high.
Please #review it. #poem
I feel very calm
Has an aura of its owm
Nothing compared to its charm
The clouds that surround it
Feels like the work of divine
Blowing in its own rhythm
Drunk in its own wine.
Sometimes they roar
And bless us with rain
Just The beauty of the drops
Nothing more to gain
Sky is full of wonder
Lightning too makes us feel
Just how small we are
To nature we should kneel.
It does exist
And also it does not
It's the mystery of nature
Known by those who sought
Something is beyond
Beyond the sky
The abode of divine
Or something more high.
Please #review it. #poem
Whatever came to existence goes on to live for eternity and on ,
Because time is not linear nor life is its a circle that connects to its beginning
where it may seem to end everything repeats itself be it events , emotions and even death.
Is it good quote to start a novel based on time travel ? Its written by me #review
Because time is not linear nor life is its a circle that connects to its beginning
where it may seem to end everything repeats itself be it events , emotions and even death.
Is it good quote to start a novel based on time travel ? Its written by me #review
Broken heart
Disguised in her smile,
Was her pain
Under the glasses,
Were the dark circles
The morning to her was not blissful
Because all she had were tears full
Her heart was drenched
Her emotions were tightly clenched..
All she could think of,
Was how she was left off..
There was no relief on her face,
She no longer had solace
She was disappointed
The one whom she loved
Has betrayed her,
And now she was emptied
Nothing remained,
All she was left with is
Just a broken heart..Just a broken heart..
#akshita #review #poem
Disguised in her smile,
Was her pain
Under the glasses,
Were the dark circles
The morning to her was not blissful
Because all she had were tears full
Her heart was drenched
Her emotions were tightly clenched..
All she could think of,
Was how she was left off..
There was no relief on her face,
She no longer had solace
She was disappointed
The one whom she loved
Has betrayed her,
And now she was emptied
Nothing remained,
All she was left with is
Just a broken heart..Just a broken heart..
#akshita #review #poem
Broken heart
Disguised in her smile,
Was her pain
Under the glasses,
Were the dark circles
The morning to her was not blissful
Because all she had were tears full
Her heart was drenched
Her emotions were tightly clenched..
All she could think of,
Was how she was left off..
There was no relief on her face,
She no longer had solace
She was disappointed
The one whom she loved
Has betrayed her,
And now she was emptied
Nothing remained,
All she was left with is
Just a broken heart..Just a broken heart..
#akshita #review #poem
Disguised in her smile,
Was her pain
Under the glasses,
Were the dark circles
The morning to her was not blissful
Because all she had were tears full
Her heart was drenched
Her emotions were tightly clenched..
All she could think of,
Was how she was left off..
There was no relief on her face,
She no longer had solace
She was disappointed
The one whom she loved
Has betrayed her,
And now she was emptied
Nothing remained,
All she was left with is
Just a broken heart..Just a broken heart..
#akshita #review #poem
TWISTED TALE
#review #shortstory
It was a bright sunny day a hot afternoon ,the place was crowded with shirts and dresses having strains of prespirations .
I was waiting for my bus after having a second glance at my watch which said half past one , but finally it was there I got into the bus grasping a seat near a window to have some air come in .
It was about a journey of hour or two , the lady beside me asked ,"Have we reached ?" with a sweet voice , I felt something stange the way she was looking at things ,"NO" was my answer we have just passed half the way then , She asked me if I could give her bag which was above I hesitated a bit thinking why was she asking me to do all he jobs ,notheless it wad not a very 'big' deal I got her stuff down , She took out a hot bottle filled with tea and Alas! She spilled it on me , I shouted a bit about what has she done and thought her to be an arse .
My whole shirt was painted with the brownish shade of tea , there was no choice but to sit and and wait and finally the spot came , I was packing off my things and I saw her asking someone else to get her stuff but people were in a hustle no one helped . Finally I saw her paying money bills to the conductor as she hadn't bought tickets and to my suprise she handed her a 2000 crispy note, I was like is she mad or what ? ,But it was non of my buissness the conductor also took the sum with a faint smile .
Before she got down the bus she asked me if I can giver her stick thats kept there -she pointed.
#review #shortstory
It was a bright sunny day a hot afternoon ,the place was crowded with shirts and dresses having strains of prespirations .
I was waiting for my bus after having a second glance at my watch which said half past one , but finally it was there I got into the bus grasping a seat near a window to have some air come in .
It was about a journey of hour or two , the lady beside me asked ,"Have we reached ?" with a sweet voice , I felt something stange the way she was looking at things ,"NO" was my answer we have just passed half the way then , She asked me if I could give her bag which was above I hesitated a bit thinking why was she asking me to do all he jobs ,notheless it wad not a very 'big' deal I got her stuff down , She took out a hot bottle filled with tea and Alas! She spilled it on me , I shouted a bit about what has she done and thought her to be an arse .
My whole shirt was painted with the brownish shade of tea , there was no choice but to sit and and wait and finally the spot came , I was packing off my things and I saw her asking someone else to get her stuff but people were in a hustle no one helped . Finally I saw her paying money bills to the conductor as she hadn't bought tickets and to my suprise she handed her a 2000 crispy note, I was like is she mad or what ? ,But it was non of my buissness the conductor also took the sum with a faint smile .
Before she got down the bus she asked me if I can giver her stick thats kept there -she pointed.