This is a story of a boy who is on the verge of teenage or rather 14 when he first falls in love. The girl is not the protagonist here. But after having a crush on a few more girls, he realizes that he is capable of loving not only girls but guys to...
I didn't know why I felt that way. I wasn't even in love with her – it was mere infatuation. But still, there was something that was gnawing me. Was I too boring and ugly to be loved? Was I a walking red flag? Did I look like a midget with an overgrown beard? Maybe I did and maybe I am a red flag. I wasn't able to contemplate my emotions and looked for a source to let it all out.
Like a ray of hope, I heard someone's remark outside my house. " The best way to heal is to write and forget until you pick that page again." I was locked in my room for the last three hours. I was neither crying nor was I depressed, I was a little bit dejected. Looking at the state reflection in the mirror, I think I was very much dejected. I got up and snailed like a tortoise towards my cupboard. I carefully pulled my precious diary out of the slump of twenty-four cobweb-embellished books. I sat on my bed and thought of writing a story. But what fun is a story?
I had written many. So I planned to write my very first poem. My mind jinxed me and my fountain pen's ink flowed to write a quadruplet. I had written my first ever poem's first four lines. And I was feeling lighter and heavier. A rush of imagination flowed and bled through the paper and my heart.
One day I lost a rupee in the woods. A day before where I had stood.
With a girl clenching her hand, Wearing a cute top and purple rubber band.
Let me tell you about the story in detail. To the place where I had gone by rail.
Three days ago, I had received a mail. Reading which my heart began to sail.
She had called me to a place unknown. I live in a place where garbage is thrown.
The line above was invalid information, so I met on the day at the railway station.
She was invisible in the sunlight so fair. Staring at her, I stumbled and fell from the stairs.
She looked at me started smiling. Her hair was shining, a dog in a distance whining.
The line above was rubbish. I am slow and sluggish.
I have no space to write about how the pineapple tasted. A whole stanza goes wasted.
Then we sat on our seat and started talking. After an hour, an attendant came walking.
It was no attendant but a pineapple seller. I don't like Cricket but I like Josh Butler.
We took two for each, it was succulent. When she ate her face portrayed heaven.
But the pineapple she threw was sour. Here goes fifty rupees waste of ours.
Destination came she went out nicely. But I was pushed and kicked and thrown.
I stood beside her, her hair all over my face. Oh! What the wind had blown.
My heart started racing, I almost got a heart attack.
I was just about to say something when my mind said, "Shut up."
I said, "I am so sorry." She replied, "No worry."
She started walking and so did I, just then I received a message from TRAI.
It said that it was a no-network zone, I replied shut up or I will hit you with a stone.
But I couldn't text Jio, I was helpless. Here goes another stanza worthless.
We started talking and walking into the jungle, talking and laughing, we began to mingle.
Her talk was expensive, mine was cheap thrills. Better we didn't go to a restaurant or I would have had to pay the bills.
The forest was eerie and spooky, and dusk made it more creepy.
I shouted for I thought I had stepped on a human bone. But it turned out to be a white stone.
She started giggling, trying to mock me as girls do. In my mind, I said, "Who the heck are you?"
But then she said, " I did the same when I was walking through the trees."
My anger melted, she knew how to manipulate me.
We walked and talked and walked some more. Reached a place where vines hung like a door.
A bright light from behind came. Seeing what was there made me insane.
A huge banyan tree filled with fireflies. Twinkling as stars, their light never dies.
And a strange pink light coming from the sky. I looked at the beauty by my side.
She held my hand and said I looked cute. My heart raced and I couldn't stay on mute.
"I love you..." I couldn't believe I said it for real.
She smiled and said, "My dear, it was a practice for a dairy milk commercial."
Voila! I wrote my first-ever poem. Nothing like that ever happened, but my imagination had sparked things up. I was happy. If not happy, then content. having written my poem I closed my diary. chapter Apurva was now:
Hey guys. Little compensation for the delay. Strangers gnawing me off! Love the response from you if you are for real. Forgive me for the mistakes in my poem. It was my first ever poem so it is bound to have mistakes. I kept it original as I wanted to maintain its authenticity.
Looking forward to more love. I am also looking forward to the time when I will perform at Coachella. Ok bye.
Love, Amarsahara.
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
