Pen Pages Posts

       I have met many people in my life. Learned from everyone, whether it was a kid, teenager, grown-up, or senior citizen. Every person has a story of their own. What they are now has a story called what they were and what they went through.        A very close friend of mine was molested by her friend as she went to take her phone's charger which she had given to him. He tried forcing himself on her. She kicked him and pushed him back and ran off from there to her PG room. She locked herself up and cried. She couldn't believe what just had happened. Scared and devastated, tears rolled out of her eyes. At night she couldn't eat properly; her hands were shaking. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. He intentionally tried to get physical with her. She couldn't sleep as thoughts were eating her up. She was terrified, and fear grew inside her.        Three days went by; she was still shaken. I called her as it was...

Tiny Legs Cuddling Around. Making Tap Tap As A Sweet Sweet Sound. Careless Mistakes. Fearless Mischief. Different Ways Of Breaking Peace. Dad Might Be Working But She Will Tease. Cute Smiles And The Fake Cries. Unique Ways Of Creating Surprise. In The Park Sitting On A Ride. Remembering Those Memories, I Would Just Slide.

       Yesterday when I was cleaning my attic, which was dusty and messy. Stacks of boxes were in the corner, along with lying badminton rackets and football. I was searching for my Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG and I came across my 2006 summer issue of Champak comics. Wow! I was filled with memories flashing before my eyes.        I remembered every summer when I visited my parents. I used to go to Vallabhnagar Bus Depot to get a bus, and the busses were always late. So I roamed around a little. I came across a man who used to sell newspapers besides comics and magazines. For the start of vacation while traveling to my native place along with Champak comics, that was pure gold. I used to love the artwork in it. Short stories, puzzles, and riddles were just so amazing. For a 12-year-old kid, nothing could get better than that.        As an estimated time, it took 4 hours for me to arrive at my village. I would have done with the comics by then...

        As I parked my bike near the Adidas showroom on JM Road, my attention went towards a specific sound. Shital said, "Can we check where that is coming from." The sound of the flute that we heard still stayed strong while the surroundings crowded with people. I followed the music, and I arrived near a shop which was a little far from where we parked. I saw a man sitting on the street and playing evergreen Bollywood songs on his flute. I sat there, and I kept listening to his music. It was mesmerizing and soothing to the soul. People were praising him by donating him the amount of money they wished. After a while, he stopped. I went to him. I sat beside him and asked him, "Uncle, What's your good name?" He replied, "My name is Gangadhar Jadhav, but people call me baba." He continued telling me about his time when he performed in an orchestra band and about his melodies, which were recorded and published. There was an article about him in the Times ...