Tag: Story

As I stepped out of the old clockmaker’s shop, everything stopped. People stood like statues all around me. People in cars, men on bicycles, babies in prams, all lifeless, frozen in time. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

​Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. He wore a chain whose appearance resembled that of a pocket watch.

​”You’ve been chosen,” he whispered.

​Chosen for what? I wanted to ask. But my voice was trapped in my throat, a result of grave fear. The mysterious figure handed me a pocket watch. “Wind it”, he instructed me, his voice distorted.

​I then turned the dial, and everything around me began to unfreeze. I looked down, but there was no sign of the unknown shadow. People walked past me, running their errands, going on about their day, as if they weren’t frozen completely just moments ago. As if the world suddenly hadn’t tilted on its axis. I heard a voice whisper, “You’re the keeper,” its origin unknown. But I knew, deep down, what the truth was.

​Time couldn’t be manoeuvred, yet I was now its master. I looked down at the pocket watch, its back engraved with an eerie message. ‘Time is now yours to control.’

Anne was a 13-year old living in New York City. She had quite a normal and usual life. She had good friends and a sweet 3 member family. But there was an incident that occurred with her which always leaves her in tears of laughter. 

It all started when her best friend Mia was absent in school. She had asked Anne to take her notes back from Max, whom she had lent them to. Anne herself had a lot to take care of that day so she asked another friend of theirs, Maya, to take the notes and give them to Anne. 

During the break time Maya left to bring the notes back from Max. 15 minutes later the bell rang but there was no sign of Maya. Anne figured she must have been talking to a senior. Maya was like that, keeping good relations with the seniors. The teacher entered and everyone settled, and Maya came into the class after 1-2 minutes. Anne took the notes from her and kept them in her bag to prevent the teacher from seeing them. School policy did not allow exchange of notes but everyone took that rule as seriously as one takes their new year’s resolutions in mid February. 

Anne went on with her day. Then, the next day, Anne gave the notes to Mia. Mia exclaimed “These are not my notes! They are of someone named Liam Brown. I don’t know any Liam!”

Anne and Mia approached Maya and told her what had happened. They inquired about where Maya had gone after taking the notes from Max. “Only to Mrs. Gomez’s office. Oh! I remember! She reached out her hand and I absent mindly gave her the notes and she gave me another copy of notes.” Maya replied. 

The two girls rushed to the teacher’s office. Mrs. Gomez was a stern-looking but kind middle-aged woman. “Ah! Mia, how can I help you?” Mrs. Gomez asked. “Ma’am I think my friend accidentally gave you a copy of my notes and you exchanged it with a Liam Brown’s copy.” Mia explained. 

“Yes, yes dear. I thought Maya was sent to take Liam’s notes. The poor kid has been roaming around the school in search of his notes. Here, give it to me and here is the copy Maya gave me yesterday.” said Mrs.Gomez, taking a copy out of her bag. Mia gave her the other copy. 

“These are still not my notes!” 

Anne and Mia decided to ask Max next. They didn’t think that Maya would have any other answers. “Oh! I must have accidentally given you Emma’s biology notes. Sorry for the switch up” said Max when they approached him. He handed over Mia’s notes. 

The girls had spent the entire break in a treasure hunt for Mia’s notes. Mia swore to never let anyone even touch her notes. What’s more, Mia got a whole lecture about sharing notes by the class teacher who was told about everything by Mrs. Gomez. The incident became a topic of endless laughter in the friend group and Mia would sit shaking her head whenever it was mentioned.

Siblings of the Sky

When the lord of the sky finally sets,
His kingdom splits into two large clefts,
Comes the princess, with her train of blue,
Ready to set the stars anew,
An ember of dawn, her brother resists,
And with a spark of yellow, her throat he slits,
A fight for dominance, a game till the end,
As with a manner of colours, the sky is painted,
Mother moon sits and does lament,
Forever they argue, a message of disharmony is sent!
Ah, mother moon, how would you know,
Of the feelings within us as we gaze upon the show,
The beauty and radiance of how the colours go and grow,
Bold and bright or smooth and mellow!
Finally the brother abandons his glow,
Hides behind the clouds, with his father he goes,
Mother and daughter for now rule the night,
But with the next sunset, we shall begin the fight!

Egg Buns

Warm, crispy pastries simmered on a burner at the back of Paramita’s courtyard. She was a young woman who lived amongst the mountains in the small village of Sampat, and she was never free at midday. The devout lady had taken it upon herself to visit the Buddhist monastery every day, and offer her food to the monks.
Being orphaned as a young girl, at any rate, making a good life for herself was challenging, but the village people had taken pity on her. She was raised in the small temple, and allowed to sleep in the local inn, which was run by someone who knew her late mother. Every night, when the village adults and children would gather at the temple to stare at the stars, she would ask the other children, “I don’t have two parents like yours, do I?”, with a sad expression on her face. The monks would overhear and always tell her, “Daughter Paramita, that is because the entire village is your family.”
Paramita covered her face with a shawl, as now that she had attained womanhood, the monks were forbidden from looking at her. Gathering up her plate of egg buns and vegetables, she walked through the village, smiling at the children and greeting the adults. Almost everyone knew her, and the entire community gave her affection and a sense of belonging.
Having reached the monastery, Paramita took off her shoes and entered. The monks were waiting for food to be offered, and as always, she was the first to arrive. She placed her plate before the monks, and said, “Father and brothers, please accept this food.”
Father Hanh, an aging monk who had been middle-aged during Paramita’s childhood, smiled. “My dear daughter, you bring us our meals almost every day. I can sense your sincerity and your pure heart. I assure you, someday, all of the goodwill and prayers mixed into your egg buns shall come back to bless you.”
Paramita’s mind felt at peace after hearing the words of the old monk, but she didn’t really believe in his words. After all, she was an orphan whose parents had left her nothing. She’d never had a stroke of good luck. She had a good heart and tried to be the best version of herself she could be, but she never expected any reward for it. Bowing before the statue of the Buddha, she left the monastery, her mind on the subject of whether she had locked the goat pen or not.
Years passed after this incident. Paramita entered the middle-age of her life, and Father Hanh died a blessed, peaceful death, surrounded by the brother monks. Life went on as usual in her little cottage, until the officials came.
Builders, construction workers, and government officials arrived in the village and announced that Sampat was now government land, and would be used for mining purposes. People were thrown out of their houses, children were left homeless, and the entire community was ripped out by the roots. The men even went so far as to destroy the monastery and temple, and cut down the trees in the gardens that Father Hanh had deeply loved.
The peaceful people of Sampat weren’t even provided homes and money as compensation. They were forced down the mountain and made to work in factories that poisoned the earth and created a thin haze across the once-clear sky. Paramita fled her own factory, and was now living on the streets, tired and hungry.
One evening, she leaned against a street light and groaned, her body almost succumbing to pain, when she felt something warm against her foot. It was…a basket of egg buns? She reached down and bit into one, relishing the warmth and comfort of the food. She took another, and another, from the seemingly endless basket, until the fire of her stomach was extinguished. Her heart filled with a strange kind of warmth, the kind that she hadn’t felt since she lost Sampat. The kind that touches your soul when someone is watching over you.
She gazed up at the sky, smiling, when she saw the face of a monk in the stars. A monk who had once told her that her goodwill would come back to her. A monk who was watching her from above, his hands raised in blessing.

Once upon a time in the quaint town of Willow Creek, there lived a teenage girl named Emma and her mother, Linda. Emma, a high school junior with immense love for painting, had been feeling increasingly distant from her mother lately. Linda, a dedicated nurse, worked long hours and often came home exhausted, leaving little time for the two to spend together.

One crisp autumn afternoon, Linda surprised Emma with a day off and suggested they visit a local art festival. Emma hesitated, feeling unsure about spending time with her mother after weeks of feeling neglected. But Linda’s genuine excitement and the promise of a relaxing day together made Emma agree.

At the festival, the air was filled with the scent of fresh paint and vibrant colours of various artworks. Emma’s eyes sparkled as she saw different paintings and sculptures, and she eagerly led her mother through the maze of booths. Linda admired her daughter’s passion for art. She also noticed how her daughter’s eye shone every time she talked about the techniques she adored and the emotions the art evoked.

As they wandered, Emma and Linda stumbled upon a blank canvas and an array of paint supplies kept for the visitors to try their hand at painting. Linda, at first felt nervous, but wanting to spend her time with her daughter, suggested they paint something together.

Emma was surprised but agreed. They chose a spot under a large oak tree and began their collaborative work. Initially, Emma took the lead guiding her mother through mixing of colours and creating shapes, gradually Linda found her rhythm, and soon they started chatting, laughing and having fun while they painted.

The sun began to set, casting a golden hue over their canvas. Emma noticed that her mother, despite being tired from work, was fully engaged and enjoying the moment. Emma began to share her dreams, her fears of going to a college and also shared that she being a teenager, needed someone to talk to her and comfort her. Linda gave some amazing advice that Emma didn’t realise she ever needed.

When they finished, their canvas was a mix of beautiful colours and wonderful patterns. Emma saw her mother in a new light: not only as a provider but as someone who genuinely cared and wanted to be involved in her life.

On the drive home, Emma turned to Linda and said, “Thank you for today mother, I needed it and it meant a lot to me.”

Linda turned to Emma and said “I’m glad dear, I have missed these moments with you.”

From that day on, Emma and Linda made it a point to carve out time for each other. They realised that amidst busy lives, these simple moments were the ones that truly mattered.

And so, Willow Creek was not only a place of picturesque beauty but also a testament to the power of reconnection and love between a mother and her daughter.

This is a story reflecting a family’s transition into realising the strength of love, understanding and support rather than expecting. This is a story illustrating the process through which a troubled teenager discovers her own self.

This is the story of Anaya, a fourteen year old girl. Like most of us do at that age, Anaya imagined and dreamed of something way beyond limitations and boundaries. She didn’t want to hold back but wished to live fully and freely on her own terms. Her artistic self, which was hard to miss, burst out through rhythm, tones and music.

But these wishes, this very hard to ignore personality was unknowingly missed by her parents. They demanded a lot from her, expected a lot from her. However, this didn’t imply that they loved her any less, on the contrary they wanted the best for her. But they had a very different perception of that.

And there were many instances of this, pushing her into activities she did not enjoy, enrolling her in classes that drained her energy and setting goals that were impossible to reach.

Anaya was growing frustrated, not because she was rebellious or ungrateful but rather because she now started to feel suffocated and trapped under all that burden. She wanted to make her parents happy, but in this process, she started to succumb to an unpeaceful state of mind.

After a rather heated argument with her parents, Anaya went to the attic, she found solace there, and felt at peace. She wasn’t proving herself every moment there, trying to justify her dreams, she was away from the chaos.

There she found a dusty guitar and recognizing it from old pictures she realised it was her grandfather’s. Someone who didn’t regret the decisions he made and enjoyed every moment of his life.

She started strumming the guitar, at first she was unfamiliar with it, not able to pick up the tone. But she didn’t give up, because she felt a sense of comfort when she practised everyday, the rhythm started to intertwine with her feelings. These moments let her express all those unfulfilled dreams and unspoken desires. It helped her connect to a part of herself that was buried deep inside. And she only got better over time.

Her parents started to notice a change in her. She seemed distant but there was a sense of contentment in her demeanour. And they were also concerned because they did not know what she was doing in the attic for such long hours.

One afternoon they decided to follow her and find the truth. And they found her, and they found what they had missed. While she was so lost in creating the music she so loved they found the plea of their daughter, not for less responsibility but for the freedom to be herself and not to be judged by her own parents.

This was a time of realisation for them. They understood that while they were trying to put Anaya on a path of success which they had decided for her, they were also setting her on a path of unhappiness and not giving her an opportunity to discover her true identity.

It was understandably hard for them to let her go but it was essential to feel that pain for her self growth. Over the next few weeks the burdens weakened and the support from her parents to pursue what she wanted was unwavering and Anaya thrived on that.

This is definitely a story where parents realise that they cannot dictate their children’s life, this is also a story where a teenager’s character develops. But more importantly, this is a story where we understand that true success can only be achieved when one sets on a path true to oneself.

The news reported that a girl died in the forest, soon after she came into my house and asked for help.
Aarush Jain

 

She always knew what it wanted, but her parents kept telling her that dolls don’t speak.
Agamya Jain

 

The letter he wrote home returned since the address could not be found. It turned out that the place had been submerged under the depths of the sea a few centuries ago.
Anya Jhavar

 

As soon as the man stepped into the red circle, he turned into a doll. The watchman picked up the doll and kept it in an almirah full of dolls.
Avika Choudhary

 

At midnight, I was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on my window. Then I remembered that I live on the seventh floor.
Rudraraj Suri

Era was a curious child, interested in Science. She would always be learning and finding new facts on the universe. Her dream job was to be an astronomer. Once, while she was learning about comets online, she came across a competition related to Astronomy. She had to do research on Mars. The judges would select the 5 most intriguing and engrossing research papers. The ones who were selected would be given a chance to explore Mars and collect samples. 

Era was thrilled and started her research. She worked day and night to get selected. After all, this had been her dream ever since she was 4. She put in all her effort but made a slight mistake. Turns out, there was an age limit. Era was only 14 while she had to be at least 16 to explore Mars. She found this out only 2 days before the submission deadline. 

She froze at the very thought of not making it through. It had been not just her dream but a passion for which she worked for months to make the most valuable research papers. She was determined and didn’t want to lose an opportunity like this. With all her conviction and honesty she decided to submit the research paper anyway. She was called to appear for a medical examination as a part of the selection process.

A fortnight later, the date for results arrived. Luckily and surprisingly, Era got selected! Her determination, interest and hard work in the field of worked in her favour. Because of her athletic build, she made it through the medical exam too. After all the required training, it was time to fly to Mars. 

Next, they went under a strict diet and heavy training for a span of 30 long days without a single break as this opportunity only comes once in years when Mars comes close to the Earth. The time was short. Getting up at 4 and doing the physical training on the ground to taking lessons on Mars was a gruelling process but she did it all with great fervour and resilience. Soon, the day arrived when they had to finally board the spaceship to Mars. Soon, she was in a spaceship, flying to Mars. Along with the excitement, there was also an uncanny fear and chilling nervousness to adjust to the new climate and about the possibilities of landing safely on Mars. But the uninterrupted passion to land on Mars and explore the unexplored was her biggest winner to overcome all challenges that came on the way.  

Finally they landed. This was by far the fastest landing ever, thanks to the extremely talented scientists of ISRO. They had made an unbelievably strong and technologically sound spaceship. When Era and her team reached Mars, they experienced a difficult climate. It was all dry and cold. Era, along with 4 other people, started collecting samples. They worked hard for a long time. That’s when they saw a mysterious, red button fixed to the ground. Era and the other four explorers were curious. After some deliberation, they decided to push it. Era went forward and as soon as she pressed it, CLANG! They all fell into the inner part of MARS! They all were terrified, shocked and confused. Unlike the outermost layer, the inner part of Mars was brighter, warmer and had some seed-like structures under the hard crust. 

Bingo! They thought to themselves, if this is going to be the biggest exploration done till date. After all, this would mean there’s life on another planet. They took pictures of the place along with a barrage of samples. Halfway through the process, Era realised something was left and it also shook others when she shared her fear. She realised that they had come to the bottom-most core by pressing the red button, but there was no visible button to go back. They were stuck!

They all started panicking and searching for a way to go back. After many hours of effort in searching for the way to return to where they had landed, they all started getting exhausted and decided to sit beside a rock, saddened and breathless. That was when one of them stomped their feet in frustration on a hard rock. And bang! They all were surprisingly transferred back to the surface of Mars in a flash. 

Era and her teammates were on cloud nine to be back in their spaceship. They realised they were safe now. Their journey back to Earth wasn’t as exhaustive as they were all busy sharing their research and also managed to doze off turn by turn. Era felt proud, but this didn’t last long. She couldn’t stop wondering, how she was allowed to travel to Mars because after all, she didn’t meet the criterion of eligibility because of her age.

After reaching back on Earth, they handed over the samples for testing, along with every minute detail of the occurrences that had happened on the planet. Era was sent back home to relax. So were the other teammates after the long tiresome yet a very successful expedition to Mars. 

After about a week, Era’s phone rang. It was a call from the research department. They told her that her selection had been an exception. It had taken them multiple rounds of discussion to agree to select her for this challenging expedition to Mars. She was underage but her research was so impressive that they decided to consider this as a one-in-a-million case. Era silently choked with tears of joy. She realised her passion and knowledge finally paid off. 

That’s when her doorbell rang. A package had arrived for her. The package held a cheque and a certificate of excellence. She was informed that the samples she collected on Mars were exemplary and very resourceful to ISRO. They said though the findings are still under the scan, but the youths have definitely opened up the new and very exciting possibility of finding life on a planet other than Earth.

There was also an invitation to all the fellow members from none other than the President, Droupadi Murmu to join for dinner.

Era gasped for joy, “Where there is a will, there is a way! Winners are ordinary people with some extraordinary determination!”

I was shopping at a supermarket when I saw a very strange ball kept among some yellow sponge balls. It was a beautiful black ball with bright blue patterns on it. Luckily, I saved fifty rupees after buying all the groceries. Since the ball cost only forty five rupees, I decided to buy it.

I came home, gave the groceries and the remaining five rupees to my mother, but didn’t tell her about the ball.

The next day was Sunday. My mother told me to clean the attic. When I was doing that, I saw a large box with my father’s name written on it. He had passed away when I was four years old. When I opened the box, I found a camera, some tape recordings and a similar kind of ball that I had purchased from the market – black ball with blue patterns.

I immediately called my best friend after I had finished cleaning. We spent the whole day watching the tape recordings and studying the notes that I had also found in the box. Monday was no different. We kept on studying them. Finally, at night, we found out something – the ball that my father had was a dream catcher and the ball that I had purchased from the market was a portal opener to a specific dream.

We started yelling in excitement. Hearing the noise, my mother entered the room. She immediately snatched the balls out of our hands. When we asked her why she was so scared, she told us everything that had happened because of those balls. 

That day I found out that my father had not died but he had managed to enter someone’s dream and had never returned. I couldn’t sleep that night. Weird thoughts popped in my head. I finally decided to bring my father back home. 

When I took a look at the ball, a red dot was glowing on it. Just as I pressed it, a portal appeared in front of me. I grabbed the ball and entered the portal to see a giant, ugly candy monster ready to swallow me. I ran for my life. Just when it caught me, a man came and rescued me. Later, I found that that man was my father!

Somehow, we managed to escape from the monster. I looked around and saw that the place was a huge candy desert. I was surprised that my father had managed to survive there for ten years! I opened the portal again and went back home along with father. My mother was overwhelmed to see both of us. She cried a pool of tears and literally, didn’t stop for two hours! We were all very happy to be together again.

Next day, news came that a child had been in coma for the past ten years. But I was surprised to see that he had gained consciousness just when I had brought my father back home.

Ignoring the minute cuts and bruises his old, shaky palms received, the man brushed away the shattered glass and the brown leather frame. With the greatest of care, he picked up the glossy piece of the sepia-colored paper. Large pieces of glass from the frame had somehow embedded themselves in the photo.

The largest piece, long and horizontal, had torn right through the face of his father. The previous state of the photo was irretrievable now.

His body had run far too dry at this age, to let tears flow down his wrinkled, sagging face. So he simply crouched over the corpse of this last remnant of his past, all that connected him to his old man.

He could still see the face of his young self smiling as if he were recalling one of his father’s sea stories. What part of his father he could still see in the photo was his stark white uniform, captain’s hat tucked neatly under one elbow.

He tried to recall the face of his old man, the mirth in his expressions, the twinkle in his eye, the pearly white sailor’s smile he had grown so used to in his young years.

He couldn’t recall it. With the photo gone, every last bit of his father had vanished from the world. The grief couldn’t be contained anymore.

“No … no no, I’ve lost him… lost him… gone!”

Small beads eventually ran down those cheeks, face crumpling the way it hadn’t for decades. But there was no one to share the old man’s grief.

* * *

He knew it wasn’t the child’s fault. He was far too young to even realize what had happened. He did not completely forgive his grandson for the incident, either.

As the tears faded away, leaving trails of salt, the man adjusted himself in his wooden armchair. Distinctly, he could remember what his father had said after the death of the young boy’s mother.

“Come with me, son, and we shall trudge this beach.”

“Yes, father,” he had sniffled.

“Each one of us leaves marks upon this sand, not one goes along this path without leaving a trace. See this sea? How close it seems, doesn’t it? One day, son, one day, the sea will get closer. So close that it will wash away every mark you make on this sand.

The waves will one day come for me, they will one day come for you. We will disappear from this world. But until that day, I have you, my son!”

From his perch overlooking the setting sun over tumultuous blue water, the old man saw what the sea had done.

“The waves have come for you, Father. And they have come for me.”

The clock strikes. The seventh graders scurried towards the library, jostling,  edging each other like sardines in a can. Kim was the band leader and was followed by the others. The music competition was nearing and it was building up a frenzy.

They hurried into the library where they were hastily silenced by the firm librarian. They gingerly stepped towards the rows of brightly colored books cramped on the towering book cases, a world of words waiting to be raided. They glanced towards the poetry section which consisted of spectacular bindings with golden letters engraved like inscriptions on a monument. They seated themselves with the screeching sound of the chairs disturbing the golden silence of the ambience, again to be hushed.

Soon a cacophony of noise could be heard in the corridors and the eighth graders entered laughing and chattering joyfully. They sat in a remote corner whispering and giggling. The musty pages wafts antique melodious songs from the books to the lips of the band. Kim was entirely in a trance with the songs around him This particular song had touched his heart.

The eighth graders were constantly irritating him. She was getting distracted. This was also compelling her to get out of the magical world she was meandering in. She cast a warning look towards the other group only to be ignored. They gave her a cold shoulder.

Kim and the band were livid. They agitatedly walked towards them and what followed was a brawl. The librarian tried to intervene but it was too late. The picturesque song book lay all over with the tattered pages relating another story.