Posted:
Sorry dear i checked it now.
It is greatly written.
And i have no words.
Do update soon 👏
.Wow LM... Two back to back updates... 👏
The way u portrayed her emotions was too good...
She also suffered so much
Her pain for her mother and whole world blaming her for something which is not at all her fault...
Too much for a small girl... 😭
It made me feel that these two are really one from their very beginning... Both suffered a lot... Both had a similar kind of life and that's why find refuge in each other...
And now ranveer again...
His description of the rich society... He doesn't like it bt still learning to live in it...
And then his sweet confession... God LM... That was so so sweet... After all his pain and sufferings finally he have some relief... But his anxiousness and doubts... lack of confidence or the fear of status difference created by people around him... 👏 u portrayed his inner turmoil very well...
Ur story is getting more and more interesting... Reading the entire story in their words and in the way they think of it is really a fresh change... And right now we have little ishveer... This thing we didn't got in show... Their sweet innocence is making it more charming ... Two pure souls who are trying to adjust in the world with all the burden... u r doing great work dear...
Update soon... 😊 😊
.Originally posted by: Sania03337
Sorry dear i checked it now.
It is greatly written.And i have no words.Do update soon 👏
I am very proud of you dear..You are growing as a writer with your each story... Loved these epistles... & to be honest I really found these better than Neopolitan City... If I thought you were at your best while writing NC , I must say this new one is in another level ...I am loving it even more... You have written beautifully... just amazing... I love these kind of literary stuffs a lot,simple yet elegant... You know dear I have seen some people writing in high level English using heavy words & phrases ,still lack the charm in their writing,it seems lifeless even being so rich in terms of words...It's the feeling that matter...
& I love the way you write...whether it's full of heavy words or high level English literature or a string of the simplest words ,its always heart touching... & you are surely a juggler of words ... Keep it up dear...
Well , I was a bit confused in the last part...Ranveer was studying in a school where all the other kids of the servant quarter were also studying ..Right ? & Ishani was not in their school or she was...& she was 2 years younger to him na...or u have changed the story a bit... Would u plz care explaining it a bit...
.Originally posted by: _priyaa_
I am very proud of you dear..You are growing as a writer with your each story... Loved these epistles... & to be honest I really found these better than Neopolitan City... If I thought you were at your best while writing NC , I must say this new one is in another level ...I am loving it even more... You have written beautifully... just amazing... I love these kind of literary stuffs a lot,simple yet elegant... You know dear I have seen some people writing in high level English using heavy words & phrases ,still lack the charm in their writing,it seems lifeless even being so rich in terms of words...It's the feeling that matter...
& I love the way you write...whether it's full of heavy words or high level English literature or a string of the simplest words ,its always heart touching... & you are surely a juggler of words ... Keep it up dear...
Well , I was a bit confused in the last part...Ranveer was studying in a school where all the other kids of the servant quarter were also studying ..Right ? & Ishani was not in their school or she was...& she was 2 years younger to him na...or u have changed the story a bit... Would u plz care explaining it a bit...
.Originally posted by: Ishveerian
loved it yaar you rocked😛
.absolutely amazing ...ranvir is scared to approach her but her presence make him feel good
no one can make him happy like her ishani the way u describe ranvir thoughts awesome dear ...👏 ty for pm
A/N: Hey there everyone! :D :D Here is the next update. :D :D
Happy Reading! :D :D
20th March, 1996:
"Perspective was a luxury when your head was constantly buzzing with a swarm of demons."
I've been in love with this quote ever since I read it two weeks ago, and there has been no stopping me since then. The quote depicts the inner battle Sohrab is currently going through, adding to the silence Sohrab continued throughout the book because deep within, he was fighting off his depression. But that's not just it. There is something mystical about the quote, something that bewitches you mind, something that suddenly... clicks.
But that's just me preparing for the review I have to write for my English Literature assignment. Given that Maa is too busy to check it and Harshad Uncle is out of town, there is no one who can tell me whether it is alright or no. So I thought of writing this to you. But now that I've written this, I'm pretty confident that it's good enough. I'm done with the whole draft, and I know where the changes are to be made.
It's a wonder how you can be of so much help for a thing that is immobile. But then again, books are meant to be like that. Even an empty book has a tale of its own or has a tale that's waiting to be stored within its heart, and it's the former with the two of us here. Where this story is headed, I don't know.
But I hope that it leads to something happy for a change.
Life over here is alright. It's been a month and there's progress, that's undeniable. I'm bonding well with the other kids and we are all friends now, but I'm still apprehensive about a lot of things. But atleast they are nice to me. The elders in the house are a different story with the way they stare at me at times as though I am something dirty, impure. But I'm used to that scrutiny.
But I'm happiest with Harshad Uncle. He gives me all the space I require. He cares for me like his own, yet he never smothers me with all the suffocating love. He is a wise man; he is building a gradual relationship with me, rather than a forced one, and I'm happy. He doesn't ask me to call him 'Dad'; he tells me that the day I accept him as my father, I can freely call him that. We are both extremely comfortable and happy.
Maa also looks considerably happier. We both have good clothes and food given to us, I'm studying in a good school, and I've begun opening up a bit. Maybe it's the fact that I'm no longer insecure. I know now that we are going to be looked after because of which I can tone down on my maturity. But then again, when some things are done, they cannot be undone.
Maturity is one such thing.
But the end point is that Maa can finally relax and remain happy now that she has the support of a companion. But then again, there is someone who doesn't even look remotely happy - Harshad Uncle's mother, or Baa, as we are supposed to call her.
She resembles a scarecrow to me if I am to be honest with you. There is a way she looks at me and my mother that makes my blood chill and something squirm in my heart. It's as though there's something... evil about her presence, almost witch-like. I know it's wrong of me to say something like that about someone so older to me, but she makes me feel afraid. It's as though I'm staring into my worst nightmare. She is everything that symbolizes what I hate about the society. And it's not just me, but even Maa feels the same.
I can feel the atmosphere fall cold every time she walks into the room like a proud peacock, staring about the room as though everything around her was mediocre... below her. None of the members of the house can meet her eye when she talks to them. In fact, nobody can talk anything at all. And then, there is the way she looks at Maa that frightens me. Maa is strong and smart, so I know that she will be alright.
To be honest, I think that Harshad Uncle is the only one who can ever handle her and stand up to her in the entire household. If her own family is this petrified of her, I really pity the house help staff. And speaking of which, there hasn't been a day in the entire month when she hasn't disrespected or reduced any one of the people working as house help into tears.
She is cold, cruel, and shrewd.
It was only yesterday where she reduced one of our helper's boy into tears. He and his father are new over here, and it's barely been a month. He let slip of a vase by mistake when he was dusting it and that... that hag (sorry for the abuse, but she was exactly that), she actually slapped him! The boy ran into his room and didn't leave it for the entire time until his father convinced him otherwise. And what does his father do? He apologizes to Baa and tells him to cut the price of the vase from his salary.
I wanted to shout and yell at the old woman for being so inhumane to the boy, but his father shook his head desperately at me in sign, not wanting to deteriorate things further. I opened my lips heatedly several times, but no retort could leave my lips. I watched father and son get humiliated in front of me, feeling my heart bleed at the things she told them, but I was helpless. I was rooted to the spot as though paralyzed, the spot being behind the pillar with Baa backing me.
Both father and son quietly made their way to their room with their heads bent down in shame, while I ran behind them now, making sure not to make much noise. I reached in front of their room, my fist almost at the door when I heard the boy sobbing. It must have been the most gut-wrenching thing that I'd ever heard, the most heart-breaking moment in my life till date. Never had I heard anyone so broken... so shattered.
I stood outside the door for goodness knows how long hearing the boy scream and scream about the harsh realities of life. His father tried to speak soothing things to him, but I could make out that he was crying himself. The boy kept criticizing himself, talking about how he was to remain friendless forever. How he was to be rejected forever just because he was a poor servant at the end of the day.
It stung me. A lot.
He yelled out the same harsh facts of the society that I was just as disgusted with, yet I couldn't do anything. I remained helpless as I felt tears leave my eyes, wanting to share the pain of the boy behind the door. I had never spoken to him before that day, but I knew that he was a nice boy who always smiled at me. He was quiet and smart, yes. He was shy, yes, and did nothing except smile at me happily, but that was a relationship much purer than the forced ones that I've had to endure.
In that moment, I knew that I was willing to do anything to make him feel welcome. I would make sure that he had atleast one friend who cared for him for who he is as a person and not what his status was. I could barely frame my thoughts with any more precision when the door suddenly swung open to reveal the boy's father, looking perturbed.
I shuffled my feet uncomfortably as he looked startled at first at my presence, the shock quickly easing away as he gave me a small smile. He beckoned me into the room where the boy now sat wiping his eyes hastily, looking morose.
His eyes had gone red, and so had his nose, which undoubtedly make him look cute. He was normal-complexioned, his eyes shockingly chocolate whose twinkle always intrigued me. There was something about his eyes that fascinated me as much as that radiant smile of his did. His forehead was partly hidden by the bangs of hair that fell upon them rather messily in that moment, quite a contrast to his simple hairstyle that fell in a bit of a bowl's cut. But it went upon his tall and skinny structure, both of which he was beyond for his age.
He looked in my direction and sprung up from the bed suddenly, looking highly flustered. But I didn't care. I simply smiled at him and asked him one question.
"Would you like to be friends with me?"
My question did the job that no other pitiful comment or expression of sympathy could have achieved. The boy's features changed completely. It was as though he had known happiness again, the same curious spark returning into his eyes. He looked overwhelmed to comment for several minutes before he nodded his head, giving me a small smile.
I smiled back at him and put my hand forward.
"I'm Ishaani."
The boy shook my hand firmly with the same flustered look on his face. We sat down and spoke for a few minutes before I distantly heard someone call out my name. I looked around to see the boy's father looking worried, and I took my cue. I quickly told the boy and his father goodbye as I ran out from the room, making sure that no other ruckus took place, which thankfully didn't.
If I am to be honest, I know that even as I write this today, this new friendship is headed towards something new, something interesting.
Oh, and before I forget. The boy's name?
Ranveer.
Constructive criticism will be more than welcome and sorry for any typos. :D
Next chapter:
Epistle 5
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