“Julian gaana gaayega!” They all screamt as soon as I stepped into this cosy apartment full of these beautiful people. He looked up at me and the pink on his cheek was matching with my Kurti colour. Men blushing at any age are quite adorable. This little fellow was twisting his fingers with cheeks turning into different shades of Pink as he tried to steal a quick glance at me. I was quite floored. It is not every day that a guy sings a song for you and that too with such a sweet build-up to his performance. Continue reading
Narain could not stop crying. Pa had tried his level best to appease his tears. Funny faces, favourite food and cartoons but to no avail. He remained stroppy as ever. An exasperated look, Pa was about to give up. A chance glimpse on the photo frame gave him a divine intervention. Cradling Narain on his laps, Pa sat in front of her photograph. The warm smile and the love filled eyes could not miss his attention. Slowly, the tears gave way to an angelic expression on Narain’s face. It seemed mothers had their way even from heaven.
A Kalashnikov had become a part of his identity,
His dream of a book remained one,
The cherubic face was lost,
He was a mix of tattered clothes and a gaunt expression,
The consequences of going against the tenet,
The mere thought was terrifying.
Being a Somalian boy definitely came with a price.
“Put your lips there”, he said in a tone that sent a chill down her spine. In her 5 years of life, she had never been this petrified. Her mother had told her that money was important to survive. It was this voice that had cuittled its way into making her lose her innocence.