Tag Archives: friendship

Hydro and Strikers – By Shreyas Saboo

//This story has been submitted by 8 year old Shreyas who resides in Hyderabad. He had written this tale as a part of  the weekly Creative Writing Classes which I conduct in my society. The kids were asked to write a story related to friendship.//

In 1999, there lived two aliens – Hydro and Strikers. They were best friends and both loved hopball. They also liked to invent things and their latest device was the tracer which could trace anyone, anytime. They kept all their inventions in a laboratory. They also started working on a new invention – a spaceship which they named MP390. Both of them worked hard on the spaceship and were delighted when it was ready.

One day, Hydro told Strikers that even though the spaceship was ready, he wanted to ensure that it was working fine.

“I think I should take the spaceship for a test drive”, said Hydro.

“Oh yes! I think you are right.”, replied Strikers.

So the next day, at the crack of dawn, Hydro set off for testing MP390. His route was from Mercury to Earth, and then back. But alas! When he was between Earth and Mercury, the spaceship started slowing down and even before five minutes had passed, it crashed into a house on Earth.

Black and White – By Jeslyn

//This story has been submitted by 8 year old Jeslyn who resides in Hyderabad. She had written this tale as a part of  the weekly Creative Writing Classes which I conduct in my society. The kids were asked to write a story related to friendship.//

Today is a day of celebration and jubilation. The American Civil War has come to an end. It is 1865 and the 15 year old and shabbily dressed Martha, a black African slave girl, is bidding farewell to the noble looking Stella, who is also of the same age. Stella is the daughter of the wealthy white landlord and Martha and her parents worked as slaves in his cotton farm. Stella and Martha have known each other since they were just 7. Stella used to feel sorry witnessing the plight of slaves at her father’s farm. She became Martha’s friend and began to teach her whatever she learnt at school. Martha grasped things fast. This continued and for 8 years, Stella educated Martha to bring her on par with herself in knowledge and skills.

Short Story – The Illusion

// This story was among the shortlisted entries for Muse of the Month contest conducted by Women’s Web in the month of July 2017 and is available at the below link:

http://www.womensweb.in/2017/08/maybe-someday-we-will-shortstory/

This story has also been published online by the publication house Readomania. Below is the link to it:

http://www.readomania.com/story/the-illusion

 

“I would like to conclude by reiterating that a person’s sexuality is neither a choice nor a syndrome. Just because we cannot understand something which is uncommon, it cannot be declared unnatural. It is as natural as your sexual orientation or mine. It’s about time we educate ourselves and initiate open dialogues about this subject to raise awareness. Please join us and be a part of our movement. Every voice matters!”

As Nikhil stepped down from the podium, the auditorium reverberated with a thunderous applause. But, his internal turmoil was piercing enough to stifle the resonance around him. He wanted to break away from the throng of people that had enwreathed him – some were from the media, some from the audience and some belonged to the event organizing team. On any other usual day, he would have gladly spent time interacting with the crowd about his mission which had become the reason for his existence. But this day was different. It was the anniversary of the horrid incident that had wobbled the core of his being and had altered the course of his life. He wanted to grieve in solitude; he wanted to reminisce all the precious moments that he had so fondly hoarded in his treasure trove of memories.

Once Nikhil managed to make an exit from the auditorium, he scuttled furtively to leave the venue premises. He made a quick call to his driver and just when he disconnected it, he overheard a group of men conversing in voices which, though suppressed, were audible in the grim silence of the night.

“Look, he is THE Nikhil – the LGBT rights’ activist whose speech you missed.”

“Oh he is the one! What missed? I am glad I escaped. I don’t know why did you guys want to listen to his gibberish. You know what, I think he is a gay himself and that is the reason he is so determined to fight for this cause.”

This proclamation was followed by a sneering laughter. Nikhil grimaced and turned to give the man an earful. Being perceived as a gay never bothered him. It was the ignorant, callous attitude towards such a sensitive matter and the mocking tone that ruffled his feathers. But then, something stopped him from walking up to the men. His car had arrived and he wanted to get back home as soon as he could. While his driver manoeuvred his way through the Mumbai traffic, Nikhil unlocked his mobile and longingly stared at Priya. That smile! Her dazzling smile could brighten even the gloomiest of days. A year had passed since Nikhil had lost her. Submerged in her thoughts, he could feel knots in his stomach. He dashed towards his room once he set foot into his apartment and reached for the bedside drawer to read the letter for the umpteenth time. This was not an ordinary letter. It was the driving force behind his crusade against the apathy of the society and the legal system. It was his source of strength and indefatigable resolve. It was the last memory of the love of his life, his wife and his best friend. It was her suicide note.

It takes a village to raise my child

Chosen by BlogAdda among the top picks of the week

// This post has also been published by Women’s Web and is available at the below link:

http://www.womensweb.in/2017/08/it-takes-a-village-to-raise-a-child/

The baby yowled again. She sighed! She wanted to prepare dinner and was already running late with her chores. But the impish 21 months old would not allow her to perform any task and bawled the moment she turned towards the stove. She tried all the tricks to keep the toddler occupied but when nothing worked, she was left with no choice but to hold the tiny tot in one hand and cook. It was uncomfortable because she was making Koftas and hence, had to be tremendously vigilant to ensure there was no spluttering of oil on the child cocooned in her arms. Sounds like a typical day in the life of a mother? Well, yes it is, except that the child is definitely mine but the lady in question is not me, but is my close friend who lives in my neighbourhood.  That is the kind of bond my little one shares with my loved ones who reside in my housing complex.

Friends have always played a pivotal role in my life. Needless to say, my family means the world to me and I cannot imagine my life without them. But, my friends are my lifeline and they occupy a unique place in my heart. My friends have stood by me like a rock in every circumstance come what may. They have looked after me during times of illness or despair, when I was away from family. They have watched my back and instilled in me the confidence to be myself. They have brought out the best in me by invariably egging me on to tap and hone my abilities. They have always made me feel like a star. They have given me immeasurable moments to cherish for a lifetime. They have taught me lessons about life which no book or teacher could ever edify me on.

Short Story – Some friendships last beyond a lifetime

//This short story has been published by Women’s Web and is available at the below link:

http://www.womensweb.in/2017/05/short-story-friendships-last-beyond-lifetime/

Udita was numb. She could not feel a thing, neither the embraces nor the handshakes. And then like a sudden gush of water, tears flowed down her cheeks as she started weeping profusely. It all had to come out – the pain, the anguish, the struggle and at last the sweet victory. She was exhausted and overwhelmed with emotions. Flashes of her ordeal played out in front of her eyes and she felt as if someone had pushed the rewind button of her life. Her thoughts raced back to that fateful day – the day that transformed her life forever and shook the very core of her being; the day that made her cognizant of her immense inner strength and resilience which were hitherto unknown to her.

Udita was supposed to meet her best friend, Tara, at their favorite hangout place, Café Coffee Day. She was waiting in the outer seating area of the café which was facing the road. It was a busy street with traffic at its peak for the day. It was time for office goers to head back home, thus making it difficult for pedestrians to cross roads. To avoid encountering traffic jam, she had started early from her office. She expected that Tara would arrive tardily as always so she decided to order their favorite cold coffee, Devil’s Own, in the meanwhile. Just when Udita stood up to move inside, she spotted Tara waving at her from the pavement across the road. She gleefully waved back and signaled Tara to cross vigilantly while she waited.

Udita’s mobile started vibrating and she groped for it inside her handbag. Uday had always complained about how one could never find anything that one needed inside the bag because of the mess that it was. She flashed a fleeting smile as she thought of him and took out her mobile to answer the call. Before she could do so, she heard a thud. She hastily dumped her mobile back into the handbag and turned around to find a clamorous mob. She inferred from the chaos that an accident had occurred and hurried to the spot to help, while simultaneously looking for Tara in the crowd. After struggling her way through the swarm of people, she was shocked beyond belief when she saw Tara lying there in a pool of blood.