An Evening Walk

 

An evening walk is always refreshing, so today, after a long time, I decided to take a short walk in the nearby park, which sounds quite fancy for a lazy person like me. It was a bit late, and winter was approaching, so the sky darkened faster than usual, leaving the park almost empty before eight.

Before stepping out, I was in a bit of a dilemma, half-hearted and unsure, but eventually, I made up my mind and went for a walk. The park was nearly deserted, and the cool breeze felt completely opposite to the warmth of my cosy home. The first few minutes were fine, but the silence soon felt overwhelming, so I decided to listen to The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. The story was so engaging that it helped me keep my mind off unwanted thoughts.

After a while, my eyes began to wander. I noticed how unusually bright the park looked despite having only two streetlights. Usually, only parts of it are dimly lit, but tonight it seemed brighter, perhaps because many houses still hadn’t taken down their Diwali lights, which continued to twinkle in the distance.

Halfway through my walk, a few children entered the park with badminton rackets. They first sat on the swings, chatting and laughing, before finally deciding to play. A little later, a dog arrived with his owner, wagging his tail and excitedly pulling at the leash. His enthusiasm eventually faded after a few rounds, and he tugged his owner out of the park.

I kept walking until my eyes began to sting, and I felt a bit breathless, probably because of the lingering pollution from the crackers. I silently wished for rain to clear the sky. Feeling tired, I decided to sit on the swing and rest for a while. It was peaceful, even with people around. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment, before finally deciding to head home, thus ending my short evening walk.

DIWALI : colours, crackers and quite reflections

 Diwali, the festival of lights, is one of those days when the entire city seems to come alive. Every street glows with a thousand colors, every home radiates warmth, and every heart feels a little lighter. As I look outside tonight, the streets shimmer with diyas and fairy lights, each one adding to the grand mosaic of brightness that defines this day. It’s as though the darkness itself has stepped back to let light take over.

Yet, beneath this radiant celebration, the world feels different to each of us. From my home, which faces an open ground, I can hear the laughter of children as they burst crackers under the watchful eyes of their parents. Their joy echoes through the night innocent, pure, and contagious. It’s heartwarming to hear their giggles rise above the noise of fireworks. Moments like these remind me what festivals are truly about togetherness and joy shared among loved ones.

Yesterday evening, on my way to the shop, I noticed how Diwali transforms even the most ordinary corners of the community. Houses were decked with strings of golden lights that glowed softly against the night sky, casting a comforting warmth that reached even the quietest alleys. Today, I saw a young girl outside her house, carefully creating a rangoli. Her hands moved gracefully as she filled the patterns with vibrant colors, her face glowing with satisfaction. Nearby, others were lighting diyas around their doorsteps, ensuring that no shadow remained.

But amid all this beauty, one thing continues to trouble me the sound and smoke of firecrackers. They come in so many kinds some dazzling, some deafening. While the colorful bursts in the sky are undeniably mesmerizing, the loud ones often drown out the peaceful side of the celebration. As each firework fades, it leaves behind a thick cloud of smoke that lingers in the air, dulling the brightness that once felt pure.

Yesterday, the noise was mild, almost tolerable. But today, the sound of crackers seems endless. It’s constant and overwhelming, making the air heavy and the head ache slightly. Now, when I open the door, the smell of burnt powder mixes with the fog, making it hard to breathe. The once-clear night sky now seems veiled by a smoky haze a reminder that joy, when uncontrolled, often leaves a trace of sorrow behind.

And yet, despite it all, Diwali remains a time of beauty, joy, and reflection. It’s a celebration that teaches us contrasts light and dark, noise and silence, excitement and peace. Perhaps, as we enjoy this festival each year, we should also remember the quieter side of Diwali the calm after the lights are dimmed, the serenity after the last spark fades.

The festival’s true spirit lies not just in lighting diyas or bursting crackers but in illuminating our hearts with kindness, compassion, and hope. As the lights fade and the night deepens, I’m left thinking that the most beautiful glow of Diwali is not on our streets, but within us.

A fruit basket

 We all love fruits as they’re healthy, refreshing, and exciting. However, not everyone might agree, as the taste of fast food seems to dance on their tongues, almost erasing the flavour of something fresh and natural.

Many of us haven’t even tried the wide variety of fruits that exist, each unique in shape, colour, and taste. It’s fascinating to see so many types of fruits online that we’ve never seen or even heard of in real life. These exotic fruits spark curiosity and make us want to try them at least once. Since they’re not as common as bananas, oranges, or apples, they’re often quite expensive.

Dragon fruit, just like its name, is a fascinating fruit. I had always heard about it and wanted to try it. The first time I tasted it was during a trip to Kerala. We visited a mall where fruits were neatly cut and arranged, and customers could choose the ones they wanted. I picked dragon fruit along with red and green apples, papaya, and watermelon. I didn’t like the green apple much since it was quite sour, but I enjoyed the rest. Later, while strolling through a local market with my mom, I was surprised to see dragon fruit being sold there, something quite unusual for that area. The taste isn’t as extraordinary as its appearance, but it’s definitely pleasant.

Custard apple is one of my favourite fruits and is usually available around this season. It seems to be more common now than in previous years. Every time I visit Kerala, I see raw custard apples hanging on trees, but they are rarely ripe before I return home. The first time I got to taste one freshly picked and ripe, it was delicious, creamy and naturally sweet. Since they don’t ripen in large numbers, they remain a rare treat enjoyed in small quantities.

Avocado is another fruit that has become quite popular lately. For a while now, people have been making videos about it, especially for recipes like avocado sandwiches or smoothies, since the fruit itself doesn’t have flavour. When we bought one for the first time, my mom decided to make avocado juice. She added several ingredients to bring out its taste, and the result was surprisingly good. On its own, avocado tastes quite plain, but when combined with other flavours, it becomes delicious.

Lastly, the fruit persimmon, which looks a lot like a tomato, caused a funny mix-up at home. My mom thought it was a tomato until I explained otherwise. The first time I tried it, it was sweet and juicy, but the one I had today didn’t taste quite the same.

Fruits may come in different colours, tastes, and textures, but each one holds a story, a memory of where and how we tasted it, reminding us of the simple joys that nature provides.

Steps towards serenity

Today, my trip to college was quite different from usual. The morning started off poorly, but I managed to make it better as the day went on. Since I didn’t have to leave early, I started a bit late, and the roads were already crowded. The sun was out, but the heat wasn’t as intense as it usually is. When I boarded the vehicle, it was packed with people pushing through, even though there was barely any space. I got stuck in the middle, unable to move. After a few stops, I finally found a spot where I could stand properly and breathe.

After some time, I began to feel uneasy. It was getting difficult to breathe in that cramped, closed space. I wanted to get out, but I was stuck on both sides and couldn’t move. Since only two or three stops were left, I asked one of the ladies sitting nearby if she could let me sit for a while, as I wasn’t feeling well. At first, she seemed hesitant, probably thinking I was making an excuse, but when I asked again, she kindly offered me her seat.

As soon as I sat down, I started sweating heavily and soon fainted. The women around me were startled but immediately helped me. One gave me water while another wiped my face with a wet cloth. By the time my stop arrived, I had regained some strength, and one of them helped me get off. I was truly grateful to the three women for their kindness and care.

After reaching halfway, I boarded a bus to Greater Noida. I sat down, relaxed, and waited for the bus to move. The open windows let the cool breeze hit my face, refreshing me completely. When I reached Knowledge Park, I decided to walk to my college instead of taking an auto, just to calm myself. I plugged in my earphones, played some light music, and walked along the footpath. There were fewer students around since classes had already begun. Had I been a bit earlier, the place would’ve been bustling with students from various colleges.

On my way, I saw a few herons standing gracefully around a buffalo, probably enjoying the warmth of the sun. As I walked further, I noticed butterflies fluttering around. One tiny yellow butterfly sat on a plant, and I mistook it for a flower until it flew away. There were also small dragonflies hovering in the air. The sight was peaceful and beautiful. Sometimes, a simple, relaxing walk is all that’s needed to let go of the heaviness and uneasiness within. By the time I reached college, I felt completely relaxed and free, the suffocating feeling from earlier replaced by calm and gratitude.

The Engagement That Engaged My Heart

 

Dear friends,

Today, I would like to share my day, which was both tiring and lively after a long time, as I met many familiar faces and discovered new sides to them. To put it simply, I attended the engagement ceremony of a lovely couple who will soon begin their journey together in marriage. But this story isn’t only about the couple, it’s also about the people around them, the joy that filled the place, and the little details that made the day memorable.

The day began as usual, though the sky was a bit gloomy, quite the opposite of the couple’s bright and cheerful mood. We left home a little late since it had been raining in the morning. To avoid getting stuck in traffic, we decided to take the metro instead. Being the first working day of the week, the roads were busier than usual, and the rain made it even worse. The metro, however, was relatively empty when we boarded, so we managed to find seats. Our destination was the last stop, so I spent the time listening to music. As the train moved along, more passengers boarded, most of them were tired returning from the office after a long day. We looked completely different from them, dressed up and full of energy, while they seemed exhausted and ready for rest. I realised how hectic working life can be, especially when long commutes are part of the routine.

After reaching our stop, we made our way to the venue. Inside, I saw several familiar faces, friends and relatives greeting one another with excitement. Many people who barely knew each other started conversations, turning unfamiliarity into warmth within minutes. However, I noticed that the event wasn’t as lively as the weddings I remembered from years ago. Some familiar people were missing; I heard many had moved back to their hometowns, while a few had travelled long distances just to attend this special day.

The crowd was quite large, making it difficult to move around freely. One of the most exciting parts of any celebration, of course, was the food, and everyone eagerly rushed to the various counters to taste different dishes. The starters included pani puri, aloo tikki, pav bhaji, chilli chicken, chicken fries, kebabs, and a variety of vegetarian options. There was also a South Indian section serving appam with stew, along with different kinds of dosa accompanied by sambar and chutneys. Desserts were equally tempting: jalebi, kulfi, ice cream, and a selection of refreshing drinks. There was a main course as well, but I was already full from the starters and couldn’t eat any more. Children seemed to be the happiest of all, running around excitedly and trying every dish that caught their eye.

After the meet and the meal, we decided to return home as it was getting late. We took the metro back, it was much quieter now, with the rush hour long over. The journey didn’t take too long, and I found myself dozing off, completely exhausted from the day. As I sat there, I replayed the events of the day in my mind and realised how much time had passed since I last saw many of those people. Some didn’t even recognise me as they remembered me as a school kid. Everyone had changed, and so had I. It struck me how quickly time moves, taking along with it the people, the faces, and the moments that once felt so familiar.

By the time we reached home, my tiredness had taken over, leaving me with one quiet thought: time never stops, and neither do we. People change, moments fade, but the memories remain, reminding us of how far we have come.

The joy of soul

The joy of soul,
jumping all around,
so full of excitement,
for the moment at hand.

The day began differently
dull, lazy, lifeless,
But everything changed
Once I found the right place.

Music surrounding,
claps in rhythm,
feet gently tapping
to the beat within.

It isn’t my joy alone,
but the people’s delight,
their happiness reflected,
shining on every side.

How long will this joy last?
Is it fleeting, or forever?
Time will reveal the truth,
the answer to our wonder.

And the answer feels sweet,
like ice cream after a meal
filling not just the stomach,
but the soul as well.

                                                 _ Beera

More than just a scratch

How much does a wound really hurt? We all know the pain of it, but do we think about it only when it happens, or do we reflect on it at other times too? Yesterday, I hurt my finger while working, and since then, it has been bothering me constantly. It’s just a small wound, yet the pain feels much greater than its size. The moment my finger was cut, I felt a sharp sting shooting through my fingertips, and the pain lingered, refusing to leave.

I quickly did the first aid as it was bleeding, and thankfully, the bleeding stopped. But this morning, the throbbing ache returned and kept me from doing even simple tasks. Every now and then, just when I’d forget about it, a sudden sharp pain would strike again, instantly reminding me of my current problem. Even now, while I am typing, it feels like I am a beginner learning how to type all over again, and my speed has decreased noticeably, making me more aware of the discomfort.

The wound may be small, almost invisible, but it feels powerful enough to disturb my entire routine. It makes me overthink, as if healing would take months instead of days. Strangely, the moment there is a limitation, countless tasks suddenly appear, making me realise how much I rely on even the smallest part of my body.

Sometimes, it’s not the size of the wound but the way it disrupts life that makes us notice it more. Perhaps it also teaches us patience, reminding us that healing, whether of the body or mind, always takes its own time.

The Green Heart of my Home

The green leaves fluttering in the breeze keep the surroundings fresh and lively, full of life. Having plants around creates a refreshing feeling that rejuvenates both mind and body.

I too have a few potted plants growing inside my home as well as outside. A house feels warmer and more welcoming when there are plants around. They take away the sense of loneliness or emptiness, almost as if someone is always there with us.

I even named my first plant ‘Oxy’, a snake plant. I still remember how excited I was to welcome this new member into our family. My brother and I collected mud to pot it, returning home completely dusted and dirty. Mom was upset, but since she was the one who had sent us, she didn’t scold us. We even bought manure to mix with the soil so that the plants could grow well.

Before ‘Oxy’ came, we had already tried growing outdoor plants like spinach and tomatoes. Some grew successfully, while others failed, mostly because they dried up or were destroyed by monkeys pulling them out of the soil. Even now, though many of our plants are growing well, there is always the fear of monkeys. They are so mischievous that they not only pluck plants but even take clothes off the drying line. Sometimes they search for the smallest cloth, remove it carefully from the clip, and even wear it perfectly! It’s funny to watch, but at the same time, they create a lot of trouble.

When I first planted ‘Oxy,’ I was worried because it didn’t seem to grow at all or rather grew too slowly. I placed it outside in the sun and rain, but then it stopped growing completely. For months there was no change. Finally, I kept it inside near my bed, and after a few weeks, I noticed new leaves sprouting. Now, I water it occasionally and keep it where soft sunlight reaches. Slowly but surely, ‘Oxy’ has grown beautifully and is still growing.

Plants inside and outside the house hold so many stories, these include children playing in the park, parents caring for them, adults taking walks, people rushing to work, and quiet moments of life unfolding around them. And among those stories, mine with ‘Oxy’ is one of them.

The thought still remains

I walked and walked, a winding lane,

Each glance I met brought silent pain.
Not just one face, but many stare,
Do they judge me? Do they care?

Do they despise the words I say?
Or wish I’d kept them all away?
Did I offend, or speak too fast?
Would silence have been best to cast?

The questions echo, never end,
A storm of doubts I can’t defend.
Anxiety has a heavy cost,
Arrives when words are already lost.

Are these thoughts blessings or flaws?
No answer fits, no guiding laws.
Still, the puzzle won’t explain
The thought will forever remain.

Among the crowd, both near and far,
I sweat beneath their judging stare.
This burden makes me keenly see,
The world weighs heavily upon.

Is self-awareness a gift or a curse?
A truth I seek in every verse.
Though silence falls, one thing sustains
The thought, unanswered, still remains.

IF PAPER COULD SPEAK...

This is a story of a newspaper. Imagine if newspapers could speak, they would surely have tales to tell, waiting for someone to listen, just as I need someone to understand my emotions. This is the story of Paper, who longed to share his journey with the world.

Hi, my name is Paper, and today I’d like to share a day in my life.

I was created some time ago, and after all the hustle, I rested with my companions, sleeping peacefully before the sun rose. The room was dark; all I could see were shadows, and all I could hear was the soft breathing of my fellow newspapers. I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety, unsure of what the future held for me. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

My eyes fluttered open when the lights were switched on. I quickly nudged my friends to wake up, eager to begin our journey. Soon, a man entered and picked up a bundle of us. I was in the middle of the stack. As he stepped outside the building, a cool morning breeze brushed against my surface, sending a chill through me. I felt goosebumps, and I think my friends did too, for I sensed them shivering slightly. Being in the middle, I wasn’t as cold, shielded by those above and below me.

We were carefully placed on top of a machine, which I later learned was called a motorcycle. It was incredibly fast! At first, I was scared, thinking, "What if I flew away?" We clung to one another tightly, even though we were already tied together to prevent such accidents. After a while, though, it started to feel exhilarating. The wind rushed past, and I felt free of my worries, even if just for a moment. But then, the motorcycle stopped, ending the thrill.

The man began walking through a small community. The streets were quiet, with a few people heading to work, children on their way to school, and elderly folks enjoying the morning on their balconies. One by one, my friends were delivered to different houses. The man didn’t wait for anyone to collect them; he simply rang the bell and left the papers at their doors.

He started with the ground-floor homes, and then came the upper floors. I wondered if he would climb the stairs, but to my surprise, he began throwing some of my friends up to balconies. Amazingly, they landed perfectly. Then, it was my turn. He tossed me upward. I closed my eyes and braced myself... and just like that, I had arrived.

I lay outside for a while until a man from the house came out and picked me up. He read through my pages as he sipped his morning tea. However, he didn’t finish as he had to leave for work. Later, his son picked me up and flipped straight to the sports section, reading it for a few minutes before tossing me aside.

For the rest of the day, I was mostly left alone. Occasionally, someone would move me from one place to another, but no one paid me much attention. The rest of the family was busy with their phones or watching television. As night fell, I was tossed into a corner along with other newspapers that had arrived before me.

I don’t know how long I’ll stay here. The others aren't sure either. But it's the unknown future that still gives me hope. As I lie quietly in the corner, I watch the family together through thick and thin, living their lives.

When time lost its shapes

As I sat there doing nothing, a sudden thought came to my mind: What did I do during the lockdown days? Were they as uneventful as now, or did something different happen? And if there was a difference, has it really changed anything so far?

If anyone were to ask whether I miss the lockdown days, most of us would probably answer that we miss the days before the lockdown. The sudden change the world went through is still hard to accept, as the once slow-paced world transformed into something resembling the world inside Fahrenheit 451. It’s deeply unsettling.

I remember myself in the year 2019, when I joined my first year of college. After that, time just seemed to blur, and now, when I look around, everything feels unfamiliar, like the colours have been pushed back into a grey day. I’m not saying there were no bright, colourful moments; there were. But they felt like fleeting sparks swallowed by an ocean of grey.

This grey slowly began foreshadowing the days I spent feeling low and withdrawn. Instead of doing something different or meaningful, an unsettling heaviness kept pulling me down. Sometimes I imagine living in a small cottage surrounded by green nature everywhere, with a stream flowing nearby and a small community of people living simple lives on a mountaintop. No one is staring at the latest piece of technology, but instead is spending time talking to each other. I often travel to this place in my dreams, though I don’t know if it truly exists.

I used to think daydreaming was a bad habit, but sometimes it’s the only place I feel comfort, my quiet refuge each night before being pushed back into reality the next day.

And now, as I sit on a chair staring out the window, I realise it’s not the world that’s the problem; it’s my mind, still refusing to see myself as an adult member of society. Is it just me, or are there many others who feel the same that the time before was beautiful, but now everything feels dull? The hectic schedules and monotonous days weigh down the soul, yet there remains a small hope for something new to look forward to.