STOPHERE📍

  GAUTWORLD Tonight, I just couldn't live Live to see another day Without you by my side. 🌀 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND A STORY TO TELL 📖-GIVING LIFE TO STORIES 🎭

  giphy.com Take me into your world Cos, I am very lonely Feed me some food I am very hungry ❄️ CREAK

  GAUTWORLD If you have sorrow Then drink it If you have pain Then stitch it Tomorrow you’ll find A helping hand For it belongs to the Tomorrow man 👥 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND www.tumblr.com/authortito

  www.reddit.com I saw God  and the  Devil In a human face Saw a child of 9 Standing by the roadside Her lips were red Her eyes were black Her face was pale She was hungry Like a tramp 💥 CREAK

  GAUTWORLD To love a broken man Please, no pity, I can't stand To love a broken man Needs courage and a plan 💔 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND www.tumblr.com/authortito

GAUTWORLD Satish Sharma was a polisher of metals; he was originally from Calcutta, the beautiful city of many dreams. Two years back, he had shifted to Surat in search of a better livelihood. The first year had been good; work came his way regularly. Then came the recession, drying up everything: work, funds, opportunities, and even relations. He searched day and night, but found nothing; there was no work, and everywhere they asked him to wait, to wait until the recession was over. However, his life will not wait for the recession to be over, nor his body. Soon his savings were over, but the recession was everywhere, and he could not go back to a more expensive city like Calcutta and then came the last blow from his flat owner. Pay more or vacate the house. 👦 Satish Sharma will take that one step forward, but the question is, where would he take that step? To know about Satish Sharma's story, click on the book link of   'AMPUTATED MINDS'- A STORY TO TELL'  https://not...

  GAUTWORLD T he shunting of the engine woke up Muthu from his deep slumber. He peered cautiously out of the coal wagon at his surroundings. The Freight Train stood at the siding yards of Karnal Junction and somewhere on the Gwalior-Ranchi line. The engine was being replaced for the onward journey. It was early morning; dawn had arrived two hours ago, and the early morning chill was in the air, with mist hanging in the yard. Birds called out to one another from the nearby trees. “The next stop would be Habra!” Muthu thought. Years of travelling on the Freight Trains had turned Murtha into an expert on the stops where the trains halt. Muthu was from Karnataka, but it made little difference to the North Indians, for them, he was just another Madrasi. Muthu was an Indian tramp, a wandering beggar who travelled from place to place on the Indian Railway. They foraged and begged for food and clothing, and sometimes, if circumstances were harsh, they stole a little. There were thous...