When you grow up from a toddler walking on four limbs to a person, it’s just like the growth of a small, beautiful, shy bud that blooms step by step, opens one petal at a time…now that shy bud has blossomed into a beautiful Rose.

   A rose that embraces it’s surrounding by spreading its leaves like open arms. This newly blossomed flower is pure of heart, individualistic, enigmatic, and glorious in all its beauty. A beauty that is present not just on the outside but also on the inside, a beauty that will reach deep into your soul. If you don’t believe me ask the bees that have become friends of this flower, ask the butterfly who can chatter till no end, ask the birds who never tier of singing praise for this lonely loveliness or ask the wind that carries its fragrance far and long.

  But in the shadows lurks the scavengers. They are not some ugly creatures, on the contrary it’s a handsome beauty, but they are ugly of heart and mind. They have claws that don’t tear the flesh rather they breed maliciousness into the mind of others. Once they caught the fragrance of the lonely gorgeousness that the wind was spreading, and now they will prey on it with all the viciousness in them. The creatures of shadow who are not good enough to think the good of oneself can only think malicious of the others. Jealous of the purity of that glorious gem, it being one of its kinds, they prey on it with strategy and softness they camouflage their intensions.

    Being kind hearted as was the nature of the rose, it befriended the handsomely darkness. The two faced scavenger would wear the face of a mate in the day and that of an evil at night. The bees, the birds, the butterflies and also the wind had seen the scavenger in action before; they tried to warn the Rose. Alarms where raised, threats were made, plans had failed, they were too late. No talk, no reasoning, no flattery, no sharp worded warning would reach the rose. Unperturbed by the natural drama, the grotesque beast had already sowed the seeds, its roots spreading like wildfire.

   Dark whispers in the night by the dark creature turned the rose against its own friends. Happiness at the small victory made the scavenger smile, but it was only a start to all the torments he still had stored in its chest. Soon the rose became a puppet in the creatures hand, first he stripped the gems individuality and ideology, next was the loss of its fragrance, as this sensory sensation was for the amusement of the bees, birds, butterfly and wind, who were now lost to the rose.

     Day by day as the roots of the malign seeds spread, turn by turn the glowing excellence lost its charm and gained new qualities as a gift from the dark that had only bad in its store. Gifts of doubt, disgust, judgement, destruction and black words that swivelled its pure soul of its purity. Gifts that were received by the rose for its humble nature.

  Terror now took place in the pure heart leaching it of its entire white colour. Distrust made him suspicious of everyone. The once glowing gem was now nothing more than a dark stone. The smooth slender stem now bore pointed, prickly thorns to appease the consciousness of the flower giving it a hollow promise of safety from the enemies in the unknown.

   Soon the darkness lost interest in the gem of a rose. The flowing wind unintentionally brought some tracks of a new prey, and this beast got a new sport. As quickly as possible the beast now wanted to conquer its new quest. It left the flower to wallow in its gift of multiple sorrows.

  Whatever the malicious beast did to the flower it could not take away its external beauty that till today is still a sight to behold. As the news of departure of the evilness reached the old friends, they ganged up to bring back the gem of a flower to its full glory. “THE ROSE”

As slowly and steadily the mist of darkness lifted from the excellences mind, it came to realise what wrong it had done to its friends. Now free of terror, discarding the gifts of maliciousness, it became a prey of its troubled conscience.

So deeply was it saddened by the wrong it had done to its friend, as was its nature to be humble and kind, the rose lost the desire to live, so encompassed was it in the sadness it never felt pain rather there was only numbness in a void that had no end. The once white heart was now only left coloured in grey. Sadness made this lonely flower to negligent to life. What the cruel beast could not do, wasn’t able to achieve even by its enormous efforts was done by sadness.

   The rose lost its colour it had tried to restrict itself so that it could still live, it tried to revert back into a bud were it could be carefree again but the flow of time is not so generous, eventually losing its colour the browned flower withered petal by petal into oblivion.

  Bees, birds, butterflies and the wind cried silent tears as they could do not but cry while watching the desiccation of their lovely friend, a friend so pure of heart.

    But now they learned a lesson, now whenever a new bud blossoms they preach it to grow thrones as a symbol of the dark treachery and as an assurance of safety.

Even now you can find people who have blossomed into beauties, tend to hesitate to trust easily. The hesitation is a precautious wine of throne around their heart that provides them with some sort of assurance of safety….Just like the beautiful rose that now also bores thorns on it…




“Someday” the word always brings along with it a song in my mind by flipsyde…the song may be old but its meaning still stands there. A moment of thought and the word captures me in its meaning and it’s potential.
We leave so many things on a someday…don’t we?? Some leave there dreams in order to fulfill some else’s, some leave their hobby, some leave the simple joy and some their passion.
This word reminds me of stories of many people who surround me… a friend left his desire to study journalism so that he could be an engineer for his dear ones… when questioned he just smiled and said…may be someday, another left his dancing shoes to be a doctor…for a someday, An aunt left her priceless job for her family…thinking someday she’ll resume it back.
When I look at myself the thing that first comes to mind is someday when I am independent, I will learn all those things that I left on another someday, collect all the leftover dreams from many more some days. BUT would that someday ever come?? If it does, would I remember those dreams and how many of them would slip my mind… would the time generate the same passion for all those dreams that I had when I left them over a someday..
Everyone is not lucky enough to get a second chance to fulfill their dreams. Even fortunate are not fortunate forever. It’s for you to decide whether to live a life of satisfaction or to live an incomplete life waiting for that someday, if there ever exists a “someday” for you……


It is said that through the eyes you can glimpse a person’s soul. Is it true? If it is true, is the statement applicable only to certain circumstances and not to others…? Here is a girl; kind hearted, beautiful of mind and soul. Every person who meets her guarantees that they could glimpse her soul through her eyes. So pure is the girl. She harbors no deceits. But good things can last only for a while. On a cursed night the girl falls prey to brutality, evilness and madness with no end. That night she is robbed of her virtue, left to die on the road. Passersby looked at her and commented, but no help came from them. She is disgraced, robbed of her honor and pride, her soul lays scattered into a million pieces. In the chaos taking place, she relives that night a hundred times. When she opens her eyes after the tragedy, everything that she had known is changed. She is angry and weak. She doesn’t need pity she needs strength of the people who once loved her. She pleads, her eyes mirror her broken soul, her tears are endless. But those people are now familiar only by their looks; all of a sudden they have become strangers in their ways. Now the people who once loved her, deem her as disgraced, they have discarded her like a ragged doll, deserted her as if she is no more than a beggar in the streets. They taint her once pure soul and dissect her character. Like a building is constructed brick by brick with mortar to strengthen it, the girl had also build her character using each moral in her life as a brick and a mixture of trust and belief as mortar. The cursed night had destroyed her soul, shaken it to the deepest foundation and what little was left of her character the society had it stripped brick by brick, moral by moral. Left alone with no one to care and everyone to call her a disgraced virtue, the girl is now fighting the most difficult battle. A battle with herself. Only a few are known to be victorious in such a battle and they always have had help. Self deprecation, damaged spirit and the wounds on the soul that do not bleed are the most fatal blow to a person that will never heal. She is getting sucked in a whirlpool of darkness. She finds and questions that most people are ready to help a person who has fallen on the road in an accident saying it is only human. So is it not human to help a girl lying on road with a scattered virtue?? When no answer came, she is on the verge of losing the battle, she is so surrounded by darkness that there is no hope for any light to penetrate and guide her out to safety. The battle has been lost to a meaningless end. Now only silence prevails. Our history stands as an evidence that even the gods could not stand such injustice and fought for what was right. But in today’s era each one of us is so busy fighting, harboring and shielding our own demons that we have become blind. Why didn’t any one see the broken soul in that girl’s eyes… Why is it then said that through the eyes you can glimpse the soul, when everyone is determined to be blinded to all the broken souls…