Playing football was his passion. Delaying his return after the usual school hours, he ensured his football skills on the school ground. Days were excellent apart from the long session, due his late arrival, from his mother. But he managed the class hours somehow dreaming
She knew her as her grandmother. They lived down the Haskin Street beside the Brother’s Assembly in a small chalet. She used to be her mother as well as her father from long childhood days back. Her constant presence perhaps was enough to fill her
Down the valley lies the beauty, Deepens with the wounds on the chest, Perhaps crossed arms worshiping the deity, He serves himself as the best. The clotted blood reddens the valley, Memories with family behind the closed eyes, Today it ends what he used to
It was 2 minutes to half past one. He was standing beside the garden looking at his friends playing football. Some of them were sitting together and having a random chat amongst each other whilst some were sharing their tiffin. As usual, he heard the
The epic past reminded him of his memories. He used to walk down the lane every evening to drop her at the bus stop. When it rained, she held his hand under the umbrella, shared their thoughts and waited there at the crossing, looking at
12 years old boy was creeping at his crouch looking at his father, dressing himself to leave for his job. His father was a waiter in the Glenaries bar. The boy did not like his father’s profession as every day his friends taunted him, insulted
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