STOPHERE📍

  Get side folks, get away The wild ones are in town Make way for us Hide everything folks Don’t let us see them Or they’ll be gone Like a needle in a haystack 🚧 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND A STORY TO TELL 📖-GIVING LIFE TO STORIES 🎭 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND 🐉,

    http://www.youtube.com/@ImagineIamI Anupama peered out at me through fatigue-filled eyes, and there was no recognition in her brown eyes. I froze, looking at her appearance. Anupama’s natural brown colour, waist-length hair, dishevelled and unwashed, and the green evening gown she wore had stains on them. Her feet were bare, and there were dark circles under her brown eyes, as if she had not slept for weeks. “Anu, it is I Vikram Shah your cousin brother Vicky.” I ventured to look at her. There was a flicker in Anupama’s eyes, and she blinked them several times and then said in a hoarse voice. “Vicky, is it really you, oh thank god, you got my letter.” “Yeah, I received it yesterday, what’s wrong?” I asked. Anupama sighed, and a relief flickered across her face. Then she chattered, “Please come in, mama will be so glad to see you.” She caught my hand and tugged me into the house. I stepped inside. (Later, when I recollect that moment wryly, I think that one step I took in t...

  GAUTWORLD Why does the world want to fight? They say it is their right Why does the world want to fight? Everybody got blood Red not white 💣 THE DESOLATE STRETCHES OF THE MIND A STORY TO TELL 📖-GIVING LIFE TO STORIES

  . GAUTWORLD S even am in the morning, and Raja pedalled his cycle out of his house, on his way to the Milk-Booth. Raja was a twenty-year-old milk deliveryman, a school dropout who was trying to supplement his income by delivering milk bags. He was all alone in this world, with no parents, no relatives. No friends and with no one to turn to. He lived all alone, all by himself. 🐊 Sometimes the routine of life can break you. To know about Raja's routine, click on the book AMPUTATED MINDS- A STORY TO TELL link. https://notionpress.com/in/read/amputated-minds

  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...

  GAUTWORLD H e received the letter while dreaming about his new project. The letter had fallen out of the bundle as he sorted out his weekly mail, and all this time it had been hiding between the mobile and the transfer letter bill. He picked up the letter from the carpet floor, and his breath froze, recognising the handwriting on the envelope. It was a slanted handwriting with every word pressed into the paper. He hesitated, deciding what to do, for he dreaded opening the letter, as he was sure in his heart about its content. It was time to go back! Time to keep his promise!  🎐 What kind of letter did an ex-gangster receive, and what promise did he make, and to whom? To read the full 'THE LETTER', click on the book  AMPUTATED MIND - A STORY TO TELL link.  https://notionpress.com/in/read/amputated-minds

  GAUTWORLD He emerged from the small alley that was parallel to the main road. He strolled, almost moving his legs. He was exhausted and very hungry. An entire day had passed since he had eaten his last nourishment, and now his throat felt dry and parched. He strolled on the footpath, eyeing the shops selling all kinds of edible items, and he spat, his eyes watering, staring at the food displayed at the shop's windows and out in the open food stalls and food carts. He licked his lips and smacked his mouth as he looked at the piled-up, luscious fruits and snacks. As he looked at the other side of the road, he saw food kiosks lined up like bogies, and the cooks were busy preparing hot, fast food and serving it to the waiting customers. Then some restaurants and cafes were crowded with foodies, eating, drinking and commanding. He was watching people eating, drinking and ordering, which made him feel a bit dizzy. 🔪 To read the full story, click on the book link below the cover. Howe...