iYouthMag Blog

Jay was habituated to stare at his laptop screen, after it had shut down. It was the only part of the day, where he could look at himself really. A square-jawed face, with brown eyes, and dark, curly hair reflected back at him. There was Still some cuteness in the face which proved his 15 years of living. The clock chimed 12 times to tell him that it was midnight. How much he loved this clock! It was a reminder of those days, some 10 years ago, which gave his life a sudden jolted twist. He still couldn’t believe how clearly he remembers that day. Wasn’t he just six? But he remembered the panic in which the door was thudded. Policemen scoured their house, the neighbors had came out of their houses, some of them crying. And then he saw it, a glimpse which was enough to be distinct in his memory. People say that they have seen tragedies; people say they are upset, but what he felt that day was beyond imaginable. Some moments, tragic or joyous, are meant for the deepest corners of our mind...

The 3rd chapter of Origins will be releasing soon. But for that, you should know what had happened in the first two chapters.  Vidya stared into her flower vessel, with an empty remark. The clock was pointing at quarter to nine, and she was growing impatient. Arnav is usually home by this time. Though, the flower vase had occupied her temporary attention. She had just bought it today, from the Monday market. Now, on outskirts of Kolkata, which was adjacent to the Nadia district, every Monday faced a ritual, where vendors across villages from Bengal, came to display their skillsmanship. Skillsmanship is a stupid word to use here, as the Monday Market was, and would be the only source of income for these vendors. The items ranged from bangles, steel utensils, plastic toy, home décor stuff..etc. But Vidya had found the vase today, and somehow it reminded her, of her past. At only, 55 rupees, it simply connected her to her past life.  Not long ago, Vidya used to be a princess. No,...

I'm lying down on the roof,  Looking at the stars in the sky,  Waiting to make a wish, As the shooting star would pass by.  Seconds, minutes and hours have gone,  It's soon becoming cold.  But I'm waiting for the shooting star,  As legends to me were told.  Of how the cold mistral winds  Didn't stop them from wishing  They'd waited for long, but t'was worth it,  They'd even go to the river for fishing!  But they had this uncanny desire  On wishing upon a shooting star,  They'd wished for their families,  That they're safe wherever they are.  And then I saw something white,  Flying in the air,  T'was twinkling very bright,  And looked really fair.  "That's the shooting star," I cried,  And wished upon it for you,  'Cause I'd not been in touch for long,  But wished for your dreams to come true.  But later did I realise that it wasn't a star, That was falling from the sky....