Discover the Writer in You

It was a white ambulance with a red warning light. We were following it for quite some time through the early morning traffic of Delhi.  It carried someone who was very dear to us. The van entered the cremation ground and went straight to platform No 15. The air was heavy with the smell of burning human flesh. Two male medical assistants, clad in blue PPE slithered out of the back door. One of them peeped inside and pushed open a rectangular freezer. Carefully, they pulled out a grey, laminated body bag which was sealed and tagged. They placed the bag on top of a wooden pyre which was already there. ‘Who is the elder among you?’ a young pandit asked indifferently, unpacking at the same time a sleek, cardboard box that contained a pack of incense sticks. My brother inched forward. ‘Can we have one last look at her?’ he said in a feeble voice. ‘Look, as per the rules, it is not allowed. She died of COVID. We can’t take a chance.’ My brother wanted to plead further but I softly placed...

  A pin drop silence haunted the room as a lean doctor with a pointed nose ruffled through some medical reports. ‘I am sorry but it’s a matter of time now.’ He announced solemnly to the crowd gathered around him and left. All eyes shifted towards a grey haired man who reclined on a white hospital bed with an oxygen mask fixed to his mouth. A couple of rubber tubes jutted out of his arms and chest. His face appeared frozen like ice but he could nevertheless feel an unmistakable warmth in his guts. Yes - he was as good as gone but somewhere deep down, life still lurked inside him. He was aware of the presence of anxious people around him. ‘How much they care for me!’ he thought, ‘if only I could live some more and thank them.’ As his mind continued to spin, he slipped into a delirium and thousands of images flashed across his mind: A young, radiant farmer driving a tractor; ploughing a large field, a beautiful woman sat next to him; smiling and whispering swe...

  (चित्र: शालिनी सिंह) वह एक बहुत ही खूबसूरत चेहरा था। दो साल   की एक मासूम बच्ची का चेहरा। घुंघराले सुनहरे बाल , शरारत से भरी आंखें , दूध सा गोरा रंग्। लेकिन साथ ही उसके फंटे होंठ और मैले पड़े हाथ‌‌‌‌‌ पैर् साफ दिखाई पड़ते थे। सिर्फ एक पुरानी सी फ्रोक लटकाकर वो नन्ही सी जान कैसे नंगे पैर उस सख्त फुट्पाथ पर खडी थी , ये जान पाना मुश्किल   था।   आंचल ने यह सब देखा। बड़ी बारीकी से। वह रोज सुबह दौडने के लिये कालेज से बाहर निकलती थी। लेकिन इस तरफ आज पहली बार आई थी।   इस बीच उस छोटी बच्ची ने अपना एक पैर फुट्पाथ से नीचे रखा। लाल रंग का एक पोलीथीन सड्क के ठीक बीचोंबीच हवा के थपेडों से नाच रहा था। वो मंत्रमुग्ध सी उसकी और देख रही थी। फिर उसने अपना दूसरा पैर सडक पर रखा। सामने से एक कार तेजी से आ रही थी।   तभी एक अधेड़ उम्र की औरत दौड़ती हुई आई और उसका हाथ पकड कर अपनी ओर खींच ले गई। इससे पहले की वो कुछ समझ पाती , दो करारे थप्पड़ उसके गाल पर पड़ चुके थे। मोटे मोटे आंसू टप टप बहने लगे लेकिन आंखे अभी भी उस लाल पोलीथीन पर टिकीं थीं जो इस समय बि...

                                           The Mystery Unfolds A Tarot deck contains 78 cards and these 78 cards hold millions of secrets! People usually ask - How does Tarot work? What is the whole process like? The straight answer is­­ – each card contains an image. It may show men, women, children, objects, nature, animals, expressions or some form of energy. And the Tarot reader has to understand the meaning and significance behind each image. But as you go deeper, it becomes important as to how these cards relate to each other and what types of links exist between them. But the most important part is the intuitive interpretation of the significance of a particular spread. (For the uninitiated, what I mean by a spread is the particular way in which cards are laid for a specific reading. For example, it may be a three card spread or a five card one or...

Sameer rushed into the stuffy cyber cafe and looked around. He was fair with light brown eyes and a cute chubby face. A lean cut below his lips disclosed that his early attempts at mastering the art of shaving were not yielding good results. The cafe  interiors were painted in red and yellow while the small wooden cubicles bore a brisk white shade. All the machines were occupied except one in the right corner. He closed in with his heart pounding against his ribs and sank in the chair like a dead weight. A few quick clicks and he was already at the bank site. Some more hits at the keyboard and a message prompted him to enter the credit card number. He took out a shining black card out of his pocket and examined it tensely. He had stolen it from his father’s wallet in the morning while the later was out for his customary morning walk. The old man was scheduled to go to a friend’s place thereafter for breakfast. This was the gap he needed to ma...