Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Check out my podcast, Words Left Unsaid..., on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/ankita-u00c3nky
Nhi krta dil ab apni maujoodgi jataane ka, nahi hota mann mujhe ab khudka haal bataane ka. Arey hatao, Ye do din ka tufaan hai, fir kahi kho jaayega . Har baar to hojata hai, iss baar bhi yunhi thik ho jayega !
Aksar jab tanhaa si hoti hu , Mujhe duniya begaani si lagti hai , Fir ek tumhari yaad aati hai , Or firse ye shaame suhani si lagti hai!!
Bekhabar sa ye zamaana aaj mere janaze pr ro rha hai , Meri maut ki kahani to saalon purani hai !
Kaam Challa by Madhur Virli
The Laugh Store, Gurgaon,01.01.2025
Miss Yukio Chatterjee Lohan
“I really want to meet his mother and give her all my love and affection in return for the son she bought into this world. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul who knows how to treat a person generously. I love your son, unconditionally and vividly that I want to be next to him for all eternity. Your son is healing something that he did not break, in the first place. Thank you for bringing him into this world so that we could happen for this eternity. I truly want to treat the two of you beautifully.
Yours truly,
Sumedha.”
[In frame: A Gerbera Daisy and a plushie that beholds a very beautiful purpose. My chronic episodes of nightmare and anxious panic attacks have been keeping me awake for weeks now. Even after all the efforts he has done from his end to make me feel safe, nights have been hauntingly hard. He believes that his gift will help me sleep better as he won’t be there next to me every night. He gifted me this for a better sleep. I pray every woman in this planet ends up with a human like him. Every person deserves a human being like my man.]
There were days where I held myself back down, days where I shut my heart down. But then, you came along with the pieces of your mending heart; clenching deep within your hands as you held them out to me. I saw you bleed, as you saw mine, when I held out my hands to reach yours. You didn’t flinch, neither did you stop me. A voice perhaps told you “It’s okay, she is bleeding too” as we simply held onto eachother. The wounds got deeper as we embraced one another. “I know it hurts, as it hurts me too, but we will be okay. You will be okay my love.”
There is something enchantingly beautiful about books kept in old wooden shelves. The rich, warm tones, often polished by years of gentle handling. The slight creaks of them as you pull out a volume can evoke a feeling of nostalgia, reminding us of the many hands that have turned those pages before us.
[November’24, The Bookshop Inc., Lodhi Colony, New Delhi]