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Paul was a gold man A coal, glow and flow man It was in the city then He became a foreman Paul was a light man A bright, right and flight man On the track were his eyes set The strongest man you ever met Backwards down the ladder he’d climb Punctual, as always, keep his time For red, green and amber Up and down he’d clamber Rake and shake the train does make Rake and cinder shake, shake, shake. Yet tender doth his heart remain Tender, precious, do not drain. Railway lever

I sit with a book, but my mind takes flight, Scrolling feels urgent, yet it steals my light. Tomorrow’s exam, but today’s a blur, A promise once made—forgotten, unheard. Reels whisper, "Just one more scroll," But they drain my will; they swallow me whole. Time feels precious when the clock is still, But wasted minutes bow to my thrill. I curse these screens, but who pressed play? Who let the Devil inside stay? I say I was tricked, but I held the key, Feeding my captor unknowi

Yashika, a five year old girl, playful and a little bit naughty, was a bundle of energy. A pure extrovert, she slipped home from school, humming to herself under the sun. As she reached home, her eyes lit up, her aunt and uncle were sitting on the living room’s couch. “Hello, little princess! How are you ?” Her uncle, Avishak, asked warmly. “I am pretty good !” Yashika replied with a bright smile. “Here’s a gift for my little princess”, her aunt Sita said, handing over a wra

ഭൂമിയിലെ സുപരിചിത സീമക്കപ്പുറം നിൽക്കുന്നൊരു ഭീകരമായ ഇരുണ്ട വശത്തെ കുറിച്ചാണ് ഞാൻ ഇതിൽ വിവരിക്കാൻ പോകുന്നത്. നമ്മുടെ ഭൗമിക മണ്ഡലത്തിന്റെ മൂടുപടത്തിനപ്പുറം ഒളിഞ്ഞിരിക്കുന്ന ഭീകരതയുടെ ഒരു ചരിത്രരേഖയുണ്ട് ഇതിൽ. പ്രിയ വായനക്കാരാ, സ്വയം ഉരുക്കുക, കാരണം ഞാൻ തുറക്കാൻ പോകുന്ന കഥ നിങ്ങളുടെ ആത്മാവിനെ തന്നെ തണുപ്പിക്കും. എന്നാൽ ആദ്യം, നിങ്ങൾ ഈ ശപിക്കപ്പെട്ട ഡയറിക്കുറിപ്പുകൾക്ക് സാക്ഷ്യം വഹിക്കണം. മർത്യ മനസ്സുകൾക്ക് മനസ്സിലാക്കാൻ കഴിയാത്തത്ര ഭയാനകമായ ഒരു സത്യത്തിന്റെ ശകലങ്ങളാണ് ഈ ഡയറികുറ

May 21st, 2021 Characters Rudra Malli Mishr (Lead Character) Aaryagyana Kashyap (Lead Character) Sahaj Pandya (Narrator & Rudra's Best Friend) Rajveer Shah (Rudra's Friend) Sakshi Malik (Rajveer's Best Friend) Location: Dehradun, India Rudra was ready for school. It was his first day in 11th standard. He walked to my house to call me, as we always went to school together. Whenever he didn’t come to pick me up, I simply didn’t go. When we reached school, Raj was already

আজও গলির মুখে এসে কব্জি ওল্টে ঘড়ি দেখলেন প্রসেনজিৎ । সন্ধ্যা প্রায় সাড়ে ছ’টার কাছাকাছি। পুরনো অভ্যাস তাই ঘড়ি দেখতে ভুল হয় না। আগে চোখের নিমেষে দেখে নিতেন। দৃষ্টিশক্তি প্রখর ছিল। এখন দিন যত যাচ্ছে দৃষ্টিশক্তি ক্রমশঃ হ্রাস পাচ্ছে। গলির মুখে বেশ উচঁতে মিউনিসিপালিটির যে বাতিটি ঝুলানো আছে, তার থেকে আলোর চেয়ে আঁধারই বেশি। চোখ বরাবর কব্জি তুলে আনলেন প্রসেনজিৎ, ছ’টা বেজে কুড়ি মিনিট। না, আজ আর দেরি হয়নি। অবসর গ্রহণের পর এই হয়েছে এক জ্বালা। আগে স্কুলের খাটাখাটুনির পর সোজা বাড়ি ফির

– “ হে ব্রহ্মা, আমাকে এমন এক বর দিন যাতে আমার মৃত্যু কোনো দেবতা, অসুর বা মানুষ দ্বারা না হয়।” – “ অমরত্ব সম্ভব নয়, কারণ এটি সৃষ্টির নিয়মের পরিপন্থী। প্রতিটি জীবেরই একদিন মৃত্যুর সম্মুখীন হতে হয়।” – “ তবে পিতামহ আমাকে এমন বর দিন যাতে দেব হোক কি দানব, মানুষ হোক কি পশু, কোনো প্রজাতির নর আমাকে না মারতে পারে।” ব্রহ্মা মৃদু হাসি দিয়ে বললেন, “ তবুও মৃত্যুকে এড়ানো সম্ভব নয়। বর দিতে হলে আমি সৃষ্টির মধ্যে কোনো দুর্বলতা রাখতে পারব না। তাই বলো, আর কী চাও?” মহিষাসুর তখন মনে মনে হা

The news spread like wildfire. The marriage ceremony of Hiramoni’s elder son Paltu, may be the grandest—with the sacrifice of the much-vaunted ‘barhababu’ (big brother), a giant carp, weighing twenty kilos, in the bridal feast. “Delicious!”, chuckled the village elders. The mouth-watering news rejuvenated the languishing youngsters. The spinsters and ladies in the muhalla (locality) got a spicy talk show to continue for days. “Aha! One piece of the maachh (the fish) will bri

When you are above 50, you do not realize how soon time flies and you have completed your half century and public is not clapping about it but keeping you remind about your age and I say to them that Age is just a number, if you do not mind it, it does not matter. Really, I believe in this. Why? There are several reasons…Let me explain...For me, as if I am again living my sweet 15. In 15, when you taste the sweetness of youth and you start caring about yourself above everythi

It was a rain-lashed October evening in the year 2000, the kind that turned Calcutta—now Kolkata, though in my heart it would forever remain the chaotic, resilient city of my youth—into a trembling watercolor of greys and ochres, blurred at the edges by veils of soft, unending drizzle that fell not in drops but in sheets of grey regret. The air hung heavy with the mingled scent of wet earth, diesel fumes from sputtering buses, and the musty odor of damp jute sacks drying on b

Part 1 - 3.00 a.m Disaster It was the month of February, 2020 at 3:00 a.m. when a sharp, unnatural thud shattered the silence of the night. I bolted upright, heart pounding, a cold sweat forming on my skin. The sound had come from the bathroom. Without thinking, I rushed toward it, dread rising with every step. There, sprawled motionless on the cold, wet tiles, was my father. His limbs were twisted unnaturally, and his tongue hung from his mouth, lifeless. For a second, the w

Nina: I opened my eyes. Another day. Tiring – I couldn’t even get out of my bed. I rolled over and fell off the bed. Somehow, it broke. Ugh, every day is such a pain. I have to fix this bed after my nine-to-five crappy job. Don’t get me wrong, this job was - and has been - my dream job. But the thing is everything is slowly becoming boring and regular. So regular that even singing songs I loved wouldn’t help. What time is it? I thought, looking at the clock. Eight. Fifty. F

Cindy yelped, kicking back from the grasping hands. Pinning her hands to either side of the shadowed red tunnel, and bracing the soles of her shiny pink boots to either side, she clambered backwards barely keeping out of reach of the flailing limbs. Cindy’s arms trembled as the tunnel’s path grew steeper, slowing her accent. A tiny pink hand slammed down between her splayed legs and slowly began to trail towards her booted foot. She was caught. The loud crunch of hurried foo

To my younger self, you deserved a lot better Author’s Note I didn’t expect myself to be writing a book like this so young. As a child, I always thought that my life would blossom into something beautiful; the disillusionment I experienced in the years after destroyed that hope. Everything that follows is my attempt at making sense of it all. But in order for any of it to truly make sense, I must clarify that I spent as much time in my head as I did in my life. I used my ima

Generation Z commonly defined as those born between the late 1990s and early 2010s is the first generation to grow up entirely in the digital age. Unlike Millennials, who witnessed the transition from analog to digital, Gen Z never experienced a world without smartphones, social media, or instant access to information. Their childhood was shaped by Wi-Fi signals, global news notifications, algorithm-driven feeds, and a constant stream of content. This digital immersion has sh

राहुल को पहले कभी यह महसूस नहीं हुआ था कि वह किसी बाज़ार में नहीं, बल्कि बाज़ार उसके अंदर रहता है। सुबह उठते ही उसकी आँखें मोबाइल स्क्रीन पर जातीं, और स्क्रीन खुलते ही रंग-बिरंगे ऑफ़र, “लिमिटेड टाइम सेल”, “अभी खरीदें”, “सिर्फ आज के लिए” जैसे शब्द उसकी चेतना पर दस्तक देने लगते। वह अभी पूरी तरह जागा भी नहीं होता, लेकिन उसकी इच्छाएँ जाग चुकी होतीं। बाथरूम के शीशे के सामने खड़े होकर वह दाँत ब्रश करता, तो टूथपेस्ट का विज्ञापन उसे याद आता—“सफेदी ऐसी कि सब मुड़कर देखें।” नाश्ते की म

Uncertainty is the only promise life never breaks. From the moment we are born, we are thrown into a world that refuses to explain itself. We are taught to plan, to prepare, to dream, to calculate. Yet no matter how carefully we arrange our steps, the ground beneath us can shift without warning. That shifting ground that invisible instability is what we call uncertainty. And for many of us, especially in a fast-moving world like today, uncertainty becomes the quiet architec

स्वार्थासाठी जो तो, फक्त आपल्यापुरतं पाहे, तिथं नातं होतं एकच – “गिऱ्हाईक आणि बाई” हे. नाच आणि गाणी, स्वागत करी फुलदाणी, नियम होता एकच – “पुरवठा आणि मागणी”. बाकी सगळं झूठ, तिथे महत्त्वाची नाणी, जो मोजेल जास्त, त्यालाच मिळे राणी! ‘कामा’शी मतलब, बाकी देणं-घेणं नाही, कुणीच इथं कुणाच्या खोलात शिरत नाही. चमचम होती वरून, आत नांदत होत्या व्यथा, सत्य आलं ओरडत, तिथे घडली एक कथा! एक होता नर, आणि होती एक नारी, तिची बातच काही और, त्याला होती फार प्यारी. त्याला दुसरं कुणी नको, तिच्यासाठी

Under the dim glow of London’s streetlights, the rain clung to the asphalt like a veil of secrecy, masking the horrors lurking beneath its surface. The Metropolitan Police had never seen anything like this—a series of gruesome murders with no discernible pattern, no clear motive. The victims, seemingly unrelated, were found in locations scattered across the city, each left with an eerie calling card—a single black feather placed delicately on their chest. Detective Inspector

The wind in Kargil does not howl. It cuts. It does not shout. It whispers death in your ear and waits. My name is Squadron Leader Mayank. And I died on those mountains once… even though my body somehow came back. When I close my eyes, I still see the white. Not the soft white of snow you see in postcards. Not the romantic white people dream about. This was a cruel white. A blinding white that reflected sunlight so sharply it felt like knives entering your skull. It was 1999.