Author’s note –The world is a scary, unsafe place. We hear stories of brutal rapes happening everyday and yet we believe it will never happen to us...until it does. This story is dedicated to women who have lost their lives to brutal rape or who are survivors.

Girl, should you venture out, alone in the dark Beware of the devils, the shadows that lurk. For they lie in wait to pounce, nab and ravish. Alas! Fair maidens like you, in the night, vanish.   So, beware of the hand that extends to help you. It may accost …

This poem was inspired by Pablo Picasso’s painting – the blue room   They say that life has many tones and hues But in my life what dominate are the blues I am caught in a swirling vortex of strife And that my dear is the defining fact of my …

Under the gnarled boughs of the aging banyan In the courtyard, Beneath the canopy of the jade leaves fluttering To gentle breezes, Grandma would sit, with her books strewn around. Welcoming with a smile, arm outstretched in greeting She would beckon. Eagerly we would cluster around, on our haunches On …

An unassuming, easy going lad, Sunny soon made friends, the dearest being Monty (or Mohinder) who lived a few Kothi’s down, in the lane. As different as chalk and cheese, the boys soon became bosom pals. While Sunny was shy and timid by nature, prim and proper in his British manner; Monty was mischievous, inquisitive and always keen to explore. A die hard Hardy Boys fan, Monty introduced Sunny to the world of mystery books and both boys spent many happy afternoons butting heads over mystery stories.

In between the spaces of dream and reality, I found you Like an alluring enigma, you shimmered in the Half light. I knew then, I was in love with only an illusion But it was enough.   Image – Yohann Lc via unsplash  

  She was the mellow glow of dawn, He was the brooding moods of dusk. She was the sparge of summer rain, He was the cloak of the dark night. She was the fragrant rose in spring, He was the chill of the winter snow. Together they were day and …

The brooding blues of your days And the bleeding red’s of mine Hold us at bay, as sightless we Navigate these treacherous lanes Of our hearts, beating in tandem.   In this pantomime we call our life We waltz together, enshrouded By the deep shadows of our past Fearful that …

Your father rushes in with video recorder in hand, “Hey baby, hey sweetie...smile...smile for daddy. Yes, that’s right...oooh, yessss...like that.”

 This story was first published on Artoonsinn and was written to the following prompt. It was the most read entry for the event and secured my team the 1st place.  A modern day Robin Hood’s conscience comes to life (literally) and demands him/her to offload karma to the beneficiaries to …