ShaMe

I call it my own country
but I feel ashamed
so much of stress
so much of pain
people pleading for food
no income, no gain
tumultuous and torturous
policies are unfair game
only home I thought it ought
where young grow not to bow
but to feel safe and cherish with pride
in their country without any doubt

every single cell one cares not
only the grown body on display
wearing shiny armor as defense
the hues and cries die in ashtray

by
Kritika
https://www.instagram.com/undressedthoughts

*When I hear stories from rickshaw pullers or road side tea sellers. I can feel their pain. Leaders when will the condition of this country be better?

Note from the Author
Copyright 2020 (All rights reserved)
Copying of the content and image is not permissible. The writers put their souls in writing a piece of literature. A prior permission of the author of the blog is mandatory before using the content or the image (which has been created by the author of the blog).

A Female Thief

“Mr. Rich has not left the bookstore since last two nights. What do you think is he up to? The curiosity is killing me. Wonder what the problem is. Has his wife kicked him out of home?” Mr. Pen said to Mr. Pencil who was relaxing inside a beautifully carved wooden pen stand. Mr. Pencil added, “The aroma of creamy delicious coffee too has not left the bookstore and have you noticed the fast food he is ordering for lunch? Wish I had a human body.” Mr. Pen had always kept track of everything about Mr. Rich. He was aware about the fights between him and his wife but they never lead to this extent that he had to live in bookstore for two nights straight. 

Engrossed in finding the answer to his own question, Mr. Pen had started speaking his mind in words,” Is he hiding here? From his wife or his parents? He must have not picked the kids from school on time or he must have been drinking a lot. But he is engaged in reading Tin Tin. What is going on?” Mr. Pencil, “Leave it to him. It is his bookstore let him do whatever he wants. You relax. Don’t be a detective. Sleep it is twelve. Look for answers tomorrow. Do not disturb me now. Good night“.

Around 3 am, Mr. Pen heard footsteps, the first time he thought he was dreaming, the second time he thought it must be Mr. Rich. Just to be sure, he opened his eyes and saw a girl with backpack tip toeing towards the music section. Waking Mr. Pencil, Mr. Pen pointed his finger towards the girl, amazed Mr. Pencil, “Who is she? What is she doing here at this hour?” Mr. Pen started yelling,” A thief, a female thief…” Mr. Pencil annoyed by his behaviour hushed him, “Are you nuts? We are not humans. Mr. Rich can’t hear us. You will turn me deaf.” Mr. Pen,” Do something. You are clever. Wake him up.” Mr. Pencil,” Okay. I get your concern. But seriously we cannot do anything. You are just a pen and I am just a pencil. Hey wait, Mr. Rich is awake. He will surely get her”.

Mr. Pen attentively saw Mr. Rich turning on the lights after he noticed a shadow and with swift movements grabbed both her hands. Mr. Pencil told Mr. Pen, “He already knew someone was stealing books. This is what made him stay at the bookstore. I overheard Mr. Rich talking over phone, today evening, about the bookstore thefts going around this area. Though I remember she came yesterday wearing a beige coloured sweatshirt with her aunt. Right?” Mr. Pen agreed.

After calling the police, Mr. Rich asked her the reason for this grubby game. She told him nothing apart from her name, Ms. Nameless. Police arrived and thanked Mr. Rich for solving this latest crime. The girl and the policemen left the bookstore. Mr. Pen with no doubts slept peacefully.

©Kritika

This short story I wrote for Furious Fiction for the month of October 2019 which I could not submit. Let me know how is it.

Note from the Author
Copyright 2020 (All rights reserved)
Copying of the content and image is not permissible. The writers put in their souls in writing a piece of literature. A prior permission of the author of the blog is mandatory before using the content or the image (which has been created by the author of the blog).

Busy Admiring Flower Pots

Lazily I step
Out the door
Leaving the comfort
Of the home

To find a Café
Which feels my own
Welcoming and comfortable
Happy to be alone

When someone arrives
With no similar vibes
Disturbs my thoughts
Admiring the flower pots

Books are seductive
Colourful and attractive
Your presence won’t count
When books more productive

Boring are the talks
Find love in silent walks
A book in hand would be good
‘No, I am not much into food’

Coffee or Tea
My favourite treat
Watching people around
Forming new stories

©Kritika

Note from the Author
Copyright 2020 (All rights reserved)
Copying of the content and image is not permissible. The writers put in their souls in writing a piece of literature. A prior permission of the author of the blog is mandatory before using the content or the image (which has been created by the author of the blog).