Apple of the Eye

The things we always dream of, he was living it. Each and every person on this planet has his own version of perfect life but still the life he had was something everyone just dreamt of, maybe only once but it was still a dream to many. A caring wife, loving parents and an adorable one-year-old brat. Life was just the way he had ever wanted. He had been a winner since the moment he was born; no one could ever steal his show and he loved the attention he always got for the accomplishments of his life. Now his wife, the girl who was a mother of a kid. Yeah mind my words “girl”, she still looked like a college student. She wasn’t any beauty but that was what that made her distinct – the way she always carried herself, those eyes stuffed with compassion and love for her son, admiration for her husband and respect for the in-laws.
He was a perfect son, father and a husband. Someone you can love with all your heart, mind, body and soul. He loved each and every member of his family with limits to eternity. He was the apple of the eye for everyone. But deep inside his love for his wife was purely eternal and in front her, he was still a child – a child who craved for love, a child who longed for attention. He was much like a child deep down, no matter how much he had accomplished he still wanted attention from people around him. After all, he was the one who made his life picture perfect; he deserved the attention. His son Rudra was a beautiful kid with a lot of mischief within him. Rudra’s mother now had to spend most of her time with Rudra to make sure he was all fit and fine. He was quite unhappy with the fact that his wife wasn’t able to give him much time. The moments he needed her, she was with Rudra. Rudra was clearly ascending that “apple of the eye” throne from his father but being a loving father he was more than happy because of it.
That was the day when he planned a picnic—he, she and Rudra picnic. It was a day well spent, quality time what we call it these days. When they returned in the evening, his wife was too tired to do anything for Rudra so she gave the responsibility to her husband to take care of him. And he accepted the offer with being more than happy. He adjusted Rudra on his shoulder and went to his room to spend some more time with him. The kid was just a pure blessing – eyes so pure, smile so divine he looked as if gods were seeing through eyes. The radiant skin, the glory in the aura; so pure, so serene. That was what he had always wanted – a happy life, settled life but his love for his wife was way beyond that; he just wanted her to be his. He didn’t want her to share with anybody. No one had the right steal the attention on which he claimed every right but with a smile on his face, he thought he is my son after all. He took him to his bed placed him softly on it and started stroking his head gently so that he sleep. After few minutes, Rudra slept.
“No one can steal the attention I deserve. No can share her love for me. Not even you, my baby boy!” he mumbled.
The pillow on the side of the bed was then pressed against that sweet innocent divine face and within few moments, he was in the arms of sleep forever; he was dead.

No one could ascend “the apple of the eye” throne.

B.N.: Hello my lovely readers and fellow bloggers!
Hope you all are doing great.
How many of you are still following your new year’s resolutions? Just a random question popped in my mind. 😛
ohh, don’t forget to hit like and share your thoughts in the comment section.
Thanks! ❤


Martyr of Love

His eyes so deep, so serene filled with traces of lust. All he wanted, in fact, it was what he had ever wanted from the moment he had laid eyes on her-her body, her soul. He was determined to brand every fibre within her with his name and that was that moment she was just in front of him. A beauty no one can forget, a face so imperfectly phenomenal. The naivety in her eyes, the smooth flawless skin. Hair so dark, so dense, just like a dark night where no mark of the moon is present. Her majestic beauty was something that could evoke envy; even the Aphrodite wasn’t any different. Body sculpted in such an erotic art that no sculptor walked on the planet could match the raw intoxicating flair. Now her bare body was in front of him. Bosom so aphrodisiac, skin like silk, so smooth such divine. Now this was the moment he was going to make her his own, brand her and get inside her. Her naked body tantalising every nerve he had. He marauded towards her and did everything he ever wanted to do. With each and every thrust the sense of accomplishment widened the smirk on his face and when he was done, he took the phone which was hers’, A message, An unread message sent by him hours ago, it read as “I’ll make you mine no matter what whether it demands to make you dead.”
He stood and took a knife stabbed himself through the heart. The metal pierced the skin very slowly and made him moan with the feeling of pain he had always endured the kind of pain she always gave him by not reciprocating his love. She had died hours ago and he died moments ago both with knives penetrating through the heart.He branded her when she was lifeless.
He made love to a dead creature.
For him, love was a war and she was destined to be a martyr.

B.N. : Hello my lovely reader and fellow bloggers!
Hope you all are doing well in the 2k17!
Another crestfallen tale for the blog. Do share your thoughts and reviews in the comment section!
You guys are always welcome. ❤


Discover  hell

look at Aleppo burning

innocent souls getting ruined in hell

humanity taking last breaths

discover hell

look at the Aleppo burning

to discover hell you don’t need to do sins

just look at Aleppo.

B.N.: Hello my lovely reader and fellow bloggers.
I am posting a poem about Aleppo. It pains me to see the humanity dying there. may God bless those souls who died and help the ones alive to face the cruelty. Pray for Aleppo Thanks.

Death of my innocence

Death of my innocence
It was strangled and left to decay
My soul choked
Now my childhood was lying on the grounds of hypocrisy

The night was dark until he came
And then it took the fiercest shade of black
Every touch of his, made my skin crawl
The affectionate smile those chocolates
Just a façade

And what … the age of five
I got to know what the cost was
Of ..
Being a girl
Being innocent

The moment his fingers sneaked under my pants
The only thing I hoped was
God….please wake me up
The tale of assassination of innocence
My mother got to know, I told
You might have seen a bad dream baby, she answered
But the clotted blood between my thighs wasn’t a dream…..

B.N. : Hello my lovely readers and fellow bloggers!
I am back with a poetry.
What do you think about this one?
Do share your opinions and review with me in the comment section!
Oh, I forgot to mention, B.N. means Blogger’s note.
See you in the comment section.
Hit the like button and reblog.
Thank You. ☺


Dear Diary,

“I’m going to my bed.”, cried an innocent figure and he stepped in a dark room. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. He went straight to the balcony and started gazing at the moon so asto share his secret with the moon. Even the moon seemed to listen to him with utmost interest. It was his daily routine.All day he would wander here and there, all alone,and at night he would come here to have a chit chat with the moon. He had no friends. He never talked to anyone. He seemed to live in his own world, And..he came back to his room, sat on the study. He lit the table lamp and opened a diary.He started,

“Dear diary

Another night in this fractious heat..with the lights turned off..and I’ve put my pen on the paper.Jotting down the tale won’t heal the wounds but it would surely lessen the pain..the grief.I love this darkness..this silence.At least, it doesn’t mock me..doesn’t scare me..and…it doesn’t leave me.They say,”Stay away from him, he is a spoilt blood.” “Just ask him how many fathers does he have?” God damn it!Why are these people so obsessed with my blood, my father and me?Some random guy today said,”I’ll fuck your mom” and…I didn’t feel bad.because..Everyone does.I see her crying herself to sleep…sometimes when she’s at home…but they don’t. I see the painful scars on her neck…they don’t.I see her heart…they don’t.They just see the desperate demons and her unwilling sacrifice…Going to sleep..hope not to wake up tomorrow.Good night!!”

The next morning Ravi heard his mother talking over the phone,”Not at home sir, please.I beg of you, please.”

He went to the dining table and his mother came.”Dare you come out of your room today!””Are they coming again?””Do I have to give you explanations for every next thing I do?Do as I command, you get it?” and she forced him to his room.Ravi sobbed but not a tearfell from his eyes.After few minutes he heard a man groaning,”I asked you come last night, didn’t I?””I’m sorry sir,but..””You bloody whore…”, he shrieked and banged a glass on the floor.Then came the mourns and screams of Ravi’s mother.Now, he couldn’t resist himself.He went outside and fell to the devil’s feet”Please don’t do it, sir”.The brutal beast kicked him off and took out a gun from his pocket.He aimed the gun at Ravi..but..Ravi didn’t care.Death didn’t scare him…life did.He caught the hold of glass lying beside him and threw it to the man.To his misfortune, he missed it. Agony overdid the drunkard and the gun roared on his behalf. She was there…yeah..on the floor lying cold and lifeless.The bullet tore her apart to have a lodgingin her heart.Ravi felt a surge of adrenaline.But he didn’t cry…She tried to give him a life..she ended up killing himShe tried to die…she ended up living in Ravi’s heart….forever…

“Dear Diary,Neither the tears,nor the fears;Neither the worries,nor memories;are left…as she is the one who left…It’s me who killed her;and it’s she who killed me..I hate her for saving me;I hate her for leaving me;I hate her for the love she gave;I hate her,for she has left me to crave;I hate her for not coming back;I hate her for everything we had;I just hate her…for she is no more…..”…..and he burst into tears.

B.N.: Hello my lovely readers.

Here, I present my first story.

Do share your thoughts and suggestions in the comment section. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Thank you! 😊