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The Mirror

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(Courtesy: Sagar Ghatak) These high volume radio-therapies have some serious effects on her. She is suffering from hair loss, weight loss, body ache, so on and so forth. But do these things make her less worthy? NO! I can tell her, but she can’t hear. She might be thinking her child thinks she is ugly, her husband doesn’t love her anymore, she can’t wear that yellow top and blue jeans as they wouldn’t suit her anymore. She is wrong. I can tell her, but she can’t hear. She sees herself everyday on me. She finds herself full of flaws, but I can’t find a single one. As they say, “Your body is variable, your soul is the constant”. I can tell her, but she can’t hear. ~ Kusal D
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The Suit - E2: "Memory"

Our  memory  is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.   The tube light was blinking, the majority of the desks were broken and scattered all around the classroom. The overall picture was looking like a horror movie scene. Agnes was heavily gasping after that sprint, she rested her elbow on the teachers’ desk in front of the blackboard. In that dim room, Agnes saw something written on the board, “You shouldn’t!”. Agnes was thinking about the meaning of those words, suddenly she heard a group running towards the room. Three girls storm entered the room, “Among so many rooms in the school, you chose this one for hiding! Oh poor you!”, they said to Agnes. “I will go to the principle if you beat me”, Agnes cried in panic. “Oh! We are so scared”, one girl teased on her comment. “I have to get out of this room”, she murmured and tried to make a speedy exit through those three girls. One girl felled down in that collision and one...
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The Room

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(Sketch: Sagar Ghatak) Yesterday, after so many days, Mark was here, with John and Katherine. It was the occasion of John’s birthday. They brought some cokes and a cake. There were laughter and joy around each corner of mine. Just like good old days. There was a time when these three were daily visitors of mine. On some days, I was their hiding den. On others, I was their movie theatre. My pillows still bear the signs of Mark’s tears. Katharine’s anger left a permanent mark on my wall. Either it was heavy rain, or it was a blazing sunset, they enjoyed through my window. They used to read horror stories putting up torch lights, I still feel their warmth in my blankets. There were all play and no work! Every day was a happy day for me. But now as they have grown up, their paths have diverged, and hardly come back to my direction. But every day, I still wait for them, running legs, laughter and there my door opens! ~ Kusal D.
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