THE HIDDEN DIARIES

 THE STORY UNTOLD....

A story is a combination of various characters. Each story has its own outline and twists. A writer who writes, always frames a story in his mind first before giving it a way to his diary. Some stories touch hearts while some breaks heart. But one thing is very common in each story and that is characters. No matter how different the story is, it will always have characters. But to think of a story is not possible without characters? When stories breaks the membrane separating the imaginative world from reality, the mind gets confused and heart refuses to believe whether the reality is true?

Some stories always fascinates me while some makes me think hard. One such story that always revolves in my mind and makes me think that what was the story behind. And as i writer , my mind craves to reveal all those stories! 

December, winter evening

Does something makes you question the abnormalities of life? One winter evening, i was in the market with my dad. The temperature was chill, maybe 16 degrees or something as it was December. The Christmas was about to spread it's sparkles in the month. Standing outside the sweets shop, my eyes landed on a small girl, maybe 5 years old. I couldn't ignore her, she was bare feet in the chilling winter of December, clothes were worn out at some places and she had a paper in her hand which she tore into small pieces to play with. She starred at a flower shop. Her little eyes noticing those flowers with much delicacy. 15 minutes later, the shopkeeper offered her a small marigold which she took in her tiny hands. She smiled ! The moment she smiled i couldn't notice anything except her.  The surrounding got blurred and nothing was beautiful anymore except her little smile. My mind couldn't erase her smiling scene. Even in the winter full of chill, her smile was warm. She was smiling  forgetting every prison. 
I returned back home but could not get my mind off it. I wondered what was her story. That night I couldn't sleep. I tried dripping off to rest but my mind replayed the scene. I got up to get my diary and a pen. That night my diary witnessed a new poem. With a blue ink pen i wrote 

" woh ajnabi muskan" ( that unknow smile).

I still think what was her story. Who was she, where were her parents. Did she get clothes to be warm in winter. Did she had shoes to wear? But no answers! Just her smile that quoted my mind that it was a story untold...!

                                                                     ~theAgamidtalks

   

Awaiting new chapters and stories that changes not me but the world. Let's gather and talk at the Agamidtalks theagamidtalks