A story is only as good as the storyteller.




This is a story about two brothers who are captured and imprisoned by the secret police. Even though this is a fictional story, similar things have been known to happen. There may come a time when mother’s tell their kids- not that go to sleep or a monster will come lurking around but go to sleep because the monster may be the man who lives across the street.

He looked as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes were wide open and even though his gaze was upon me, his thoughts seemed far away.”They are here”, he finally managed. I raised my eyes only to find his conveying the fear I felt. The fear we all felt.

It is not the dead I fear for they have served their term in this hell on Earth and now rest in peace. It is the living I fear for they can be far more inhuman. I am a prisoner here along with my brother. We do not know the reason for our imprisonment. My name is Ali and I am fifteen. My brother’s name is Hamid and he is seventeen. We share this cell along with thirty other prisoners.

I clearly remember the day we were brought here. We were roaming the market, searching for the items which mother had sent us to buy. The items weren’t many as we could not afford much. A couple of men smoking cigarettes stared at us as we passed by. Then one of them caught my brother by the collar and punched him in the face. My brother tried to fight back but there were too many of them. We were beaten in front of everyone. The men said they belonged to the secret police. They handcuffed us and brought us here.

No single person from our cell has been sent home alive. Our families usually receive our bodies in body bags and that is if they are lucky enough to receive a body. I am not sure our parents have been informed where we are.

We are tortured in the hope that we may agree to have committed treason, but most people here are innocent. The nights are the worst when the screams of tortured prisoners echo through the prison cells.

My brother looks at me as if he has seen a ghost. His eyes are wide open.”They are here”, he manages. His eyes meet mine reflecting the pain and fear in mine as I stumble through the door of the prison cell. He catches me before I fall to the ground. He knows they have electrocuted me from the rotten smell which rises from my burnt skin. I would like to tell him that it’s not so bad, except for the fact that they have cut off my tongue.



 (It would mean a lot to me if you took the time to read this particular article.)

It’s five in the morning right now; I’ve been awake since three. The thing is I have been thinking, worrying mostly. I would like to say that I’m worried about poverty or income inequality or world hunger or even terrorism, but I’m not, I have matters closer to home that need my urgent attention. I’m worried about my future. It’s not like I don’t worry about the other stuff but the other stuff doesn’t break me, it doesn’t cripple my desire to live my life the way it’s supposed to be lived. It doesn’t stop me from being the person I wish to become; it drives me to want to be more.

You see I’ve been alive for nineteen years now and I like to think I see things different from most people. I’m not saying that I’m smarter than anyone else or that I even know how the world works. I’m not making any grand claims of some innate knowledge that is forbidden to others. Heck I’ve always been an average student who sucks at math more notably than other subjects. What I am trying to say is that I try to think about the stuff that I see other people ignoring. The bottom line is I like to think, you can call it daydreaming or whatever else that suits your perception of me developed through your assessment of the way I write.

I enjoy blogging because it provides me with a platform where I can convert my thoughts to something useful rather than remaining idle thoughts. It provides me with an opportunity to transform my dreams into works of fiction which I think other people enjoy reading. It gives me joy to think that there’s someone halfway across the world, a stranger, who smiles at a joke I made or who cries because of something inexplicable in my writing that may have touched something inside him or her that made that person feel something or help him identify a feeling he/she hadn’t realized was there to be felt. That’s all I wish to do. I want to make people feel; to share in what were once idle thoughts running through my head. That is what blogging is to me. That is what writing is to me. And that is the work that I wish to do. I wish to be free to think and to write. I may be young but I like to think I am wise. I may be careless but I like to think that’s its simply because the things that mean so much to you mean nothing to me, but for you I’ll try.

But reality has to intervene at some point. I can’t keep on blogging simply because I wish to. It’s not a hobby for me and as yet I don’t think that I have approached it as a professional. But I’d like to keep on going, simply because I enjoy doing so. There are tens of thousands of others like me that use platforms such as Word press to share their thoughts with the world and I have to say that it’s a thriving community. The blogosphere is full of talented people who spend years honing their craft and yet true success is a rare thing. There are many people who blog just for themselves. I am not one of those people and at the same time I am one of them. I blog so that other people know what it is that I would never have been able to convey in front of a microphone but can easily do so on a sheet of digital paper, something which I believe is worth sharing, something beautiful and useful and a product of my mind.

I want you ‘dear reader’ to share this article with the world. I want you to help me continue what I am doing because you have the power to do so simply by clicking a button. I want you to share my thoughts with that stranger halfway across the world. You’ve seen me come this far, for you I’d like to go farther, because it is for you that I write and you that I thank for allowing me to come this far.

Yours faithfully,


(Please share this article, I want the world to know the value of our words)

PS – I wrote this article a year ago and since then a lot has changed. I published my first novel this year and am on the brink of finishing the second one. I’m thankful to all the people who encouraged me and made this possible.

Here’s a link to the book in case you would like to take a look





People tend to connect over the strangest of things

shared misfortune


a misplaced smile




shared hometown when in another city/ country(Somali K Chakrabarti )

 The same UNREQUITED love..(Divya)

that unknown helping hand amidst the crowd.. those random smile which are similar to mine (Divya)

the same heart beating around 24*7 but divided amongst borders!(Divya)

the same tears which are unstoppable upon the death of our Martyr!(Divya)

You are free to add to this list in the comments section and I will periodically update this post along with your input.


Sometimes you find the music you’ve been searching for and sometimes that music finds you. Thank you  .

There is an upcoming indie duo from Bridlington, UK.  It is formed by Jack Sedman (vocals) and Harry Draper (guitar). They have recently released their debut album ‘Tell Me Its Real’. They toured with Kodaline earlier.

They are already booked for the summers touring through Europe. They would love to perform in India and they have a huge following here. They will be performing in Berlin and Paris in the month of may.


Their music is amazing paired with lyrical genius. We have managed to contact them and they would as I said love to perform in India. We are looking for sponsors or music promoters who might be interested.


If anyone is interested or knows someone who might be please let me know. You can mail me at .

Please …this is a request….its an amazing band and India deserves to hear them play.


I wonder where it comes from, this urge to do something. You can try to do something about nothing when it might be a lot more sensible to do anything about something. You could on the other hand try to do something about anything but if that anything is nothing than its actually no different than  doing nothing at all. So the best course of action therefore would be to do something about a thing that is anything but nothing.



“Are you stupid enough to believe that there is someone out there who is looking out for you?”

“Actually, I’m stupider than what you give me credit for?’

“Or maybe just too damn set in your ways to see the world for what it really is.”

” And how do you see the world?”

” A cold heartless place that smothers what’s beautiful inside and leaves behind a murky fog that envelops and slowly shrivels what was once a healthy and loving heart.”

” I beg to differ. The world is just a place. There’s good and there’s evil but more than that there’s hope. It’s hope that lifts you when you’re drowning in the gutter of your darkest thoughts. It’s hope that allows you to move forward even when you feel as if your legs are no longer yours. Hope is just a concept, but its the one concept that has the potential to keep the world on its feet.”




My sympathy does not lie with the weak but with the helpless.

There comes a time when even the strong become helpless , but contrary to common perception it does not mean that they are weak.He was not a coward . He would have fought each and every one of them had he the means.And yet he did fight even without them.He was punched, kicked ,humiliated.Yet he proved his strength .He smiled.Smiling at your oppressor is the worst thing you can do to him especially when he believes that your spirit is almost broken.He was rewarded with a punch in the stomach and he doubled over.The hands which had been supporting him till now left him..They left the room that day but were unable to take his pride along with them.He was still smiling as the pain overwhelmed him and he lost conciousness but not the will to fight.
He felt someone wiping his forehead with a wet cloth.”You will be all right”,a voice kept telling him.”We need to take him to a hospital”,another voice said.”We can’t,not without involving the police”the voice above me said.”Shit,what have I done ,its all my fault”,said the second voice

to be continued……


“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists.. it is real.. it is possible.. it’s yours.”
― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

You must have faith, faith not in a supreme being that you know nothing about or in mystics but faith in your abilities and the outcome of those abilities.


“If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders – What would you tell him?”

I…don’t know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?”

To shrug.”

― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged


source: google images

You have the power to change the world, to change your world. You have the power of choice, the power to take decisions and stick by them. It is in the realm of your mind that you are free. You are responsible for yourself.Your mind is your greatest possession. CHOOSE WISELY.

“I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.

― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged


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