#review #story #Florence
A Secret Diary
My wristwatch showed 9.30 am when the train halted at Siliguri station. A minute later, at the whistle of the guard, the train cooed and moved forward belching out clouds of grey smoke towards the blissful blue sky. I was lucky enough to get a window seat and was already mesmerized by the unparalleled scenic beauty of the snow-capped hills. Throughout the two hour journey, I didn't blink even for a second for fear of missing out the exciting and spectacular views the idyllic location offered. The vintage toy train chugged its way through the bustle of the bazaar, sometimes parallel to the roads, often halted at quaint little stations and at other times moved upward in zig zags. Looking down to the deep treacherous valley made me dizzy. I felt like falling into a seemingly endless abyss. The loco curved up and around the hill before steaming into the final station. "Welcome to Darjeeling," the gentle female voice announced. No sooner had the train halted than the passengers rushed to get out. As I was in no hurry I waited till the crowd settled. The tonga services waited outside the station to pick up the passengers and some of them haggled over the fare. As I was strapped for cash I preferred to take a 2kms walk with my backpack to the cottage atop of the hill. The morning breeze tingled my cheeks. As I walked through the narrow path flanked by tea gardens, I witnessed scores of women indulged in plucking leaves with huge baskets on their back and merrily humming the lore of bygone heroes. The strong aroma of the tea leaves and the occasional humming of cuckoos pervaded the place. The sky started turning sapphire, unblemished and cloudless. The whole place was throbbing with tranquillity and I felt like I was in heaven. I stopped at a board which read "Oasis Cottage." It directed me to take the left. I continued walking around 50 metres or so to finally arrive at the cottage. There was not a soul in sight!
"Sahib.." I turned to see a man in shabby clothes and turban tied around his head.
"Jeremy Brooks", I introduced myself.
He nodded as if recognizing me and uttered rather politely, "but you are a week early, sir. The cleaning is still going on."
"It's okay. Could you please tell me where I can find Mr Arthur Harley?"
"Hey Brooks, what a surprise! You little punk, you said next week", Harley appeared out of nowhere and punched me in my tummy.
"Yeah. A slight change of plans. The baby is due in two weeks and Daisy really expects me."
"Oh, I see. Ram, tidy up the pace. We'll be right back."
Ram nodded yes and rushed in. Harley was living nearby and he took me to his home. After helping ourselves with a sumptuous meal, I left for the cottage. The living room was crowded with furniture and old paintings. Hung from the ceiling was a colourful lantern to lighten up the interior at night. I went to the bedroom upstairs and ensconced myself under the warm blankets.
"Sahib, the tea is served.. would you like me to take it upstairs?" Ram's yelling interrupted my siesta. I came down to see him patiently waiting for me with a cup of famous Darjeeling tea. I inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. Then, I rang Daisy to say everything was alright. The day was drawing to a close and the setting sun drenched everything in evanescing vermilion hue. I told Ram to not make supper and retired to my bedroom. As it had been a long day I laid down and closed my eyes. The husky rustling of the leaves and the soft whistling of the chilly wind lulled me to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to see everything covered in snow. The weather was unpredictable. Yesterday the place was sun-soaked and now it's snow-clad! Ram brought me tea and said, "I shouted and screamed to show you the snowfall but you didn't wake up."
"I hit the bed early, Ram. I was dog-tired. Be sure to call me if it snows tonight."
"Sure, Sahib", and he withdrew to the kitchen.
Having finished my tea I decided to explore the home a bit. It was at least 25 years old and was generous with windows and off-white curtains which
A Secret Diary
My wristwatch showed 9.30 am when the train halted at Siliguri station. A minute later, at the whistle of the guard, the train cooed and moved forward belching out clouds of grey smoke towards the blissful blue sky. I was lucky enough to get a window seat and was already mesmerized by the unparalleled scenic beauty of the snow-capped hills. Throughout the two hour journey, I didn't blink even for a second for fear of missing out the exciting and spectacular views the idyllic location offered. The vintage toy train chugged its way through the bustle of the bazaar, sometimes parallel to the roads, often halted at quaint little stations and at other times moved upward in zig zags. Looking down to the deep treacherous valley made me dizzy. I felt like falling into a seemingly endless abyss. The loco curved up and around the hill before steaming into the final station. "Welcome to Darjeeling," the gentle female voice announced. No sooner had the train halted than the passengers rushed to get out. As I was in no hurry I waited till the crowd settled. The tonga services waited outside the station to pick up the passengers and some of them haggled over the fare. As I was strapped for cash I preferred to take a 2kms walk with my backpack to the cottage atop of the hill. The morning breeze tingled my cheeks. As I walked through the narrow path flanked by tea gardens, I witnessed scores of women indulged in plucking leaves with huge baskets on their back and merrily humming the lore of bygone heroes. The strong aroma of the tea leaves and the occasional humming of cuckoos pervaded the place. The sky started turning sapphire, unblemished and cloudless. The whole place was throbbing with tranquillity and I felt like I was in heaven. I stopped at a board which read "Oasis Cottage." It directed me to take the left. I continued walking around 50 metres or so to finally arrive at the cottage. There was not a soul in sight!
"Sahib.." I turned to see a man in shabby clothes and turban tied around his head.
"Jeremy Brooks", I introduced myself.
He nodded as if recognizing me and uttered rather politely, "but you are a week early, sir. The cleaning is still going on."
"It's okay. Could you please tell me where I can find Mr Arthur Harley?"
"Hey Brooks, what a surprise! You little punk, you said next week", Harley appeared out of nowhere and punched me in my tummy.
"Yeah. A slight change of plans. The baby is due in two weeks and Daisy really expects me."
"Oh, I see. Ram, tidy up the pace. We'll be right back."
Ram nodded yes and rushed in. Harley was living nearby and he took me to his home. After helping ourselves with a sumptuous meal, I left for the cottage. The living room was crowded with furniture and old paintings. Hung from the ceiling was a colourful lantern to lighten up the interior at night. I went to the bedroom upstairs and ensconced myself under the warm blankets.
"Sahib, the tea is served.. would you like me to take it upstairs?" Ram's yelling interrupted my siesta. I came down to see him patiently waiting for me with a cup of famous Darjeeling tea. I inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. Then, I rang Daisy to say everything was alright. The day was drawing to a close and the setting sun drenched everything in evanescing vermilion hue. I told Ram to not make supper and retired to my bedroom. As it had been a long day I laid down and closed my eyes. The husky rustling of the leaves and the soft whistling of the chilly wind lulled me to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to see everything covered in snow. The weather was unpredictable. Yesterday the place was sun-soaked and now it's snow-clad! Ram brought me tea and said, "I shouted and screamed to show you the snowfall but you didn't wake up."
"I hit the bed early, Ram. I was dog-tired. Be sure to call me if it snows tonight."
"Sure, Sahib", and he withdrew to the kitchen.
Having finished my tea I decided to explore the home a bit. It was at least 25 years old and was generous with windows and off-white curtains which
#review #snehu #story
DEAR READER,
Hello, I am Chipku. I am a diary, a personal diary of a girl named Ara. I have all her secrets hidden within me. But it's time for some secrets to be revealed. I am here to tell you an incident, a memory of Ara. She's no more now, but her experiences and stories are definitely going to excite you, and if you're bored then you must read it. So tie your belts, get some popcorn ready and let's start the journey.
BEFORE YOU READ
I am going to recite the story and I am just the narrator, what Ara wrote in me is going to be the same. So let's begin.
________________________________________
It is 4th of August, 2019 and Ara has finally turned 14. Every year she waits for her birthday to come. She loves distributing sweets to her classmates. But this year, it's different for her. She is not excited about distributing sweets, she is not excited for her birthday. She is just curious about certain things. She is quite happy too, her fellow poets made her birthday special. I know how much special is Writer's Block and it's people for her. Writer's block is like her second home. She joined it one year ago, when she started writing poems. Ara can spent her whole day on this app. Each day passes and she is becoming curious. She spends her whole day reading or writing poems. She has changed now. But it's a better change. She has become fun, loving, and caring.
Months have passed and everything's the same. She wakes up, gets ready, goes to school, comes home, does her assignments, and again writes to me. I wait everyday that today she is going to come and tell me something new, but everyday it's almost the same. I am bit tired now, listening to the same things.
Today is 15th of November. Today, Ara seems very curious and a bit sad too. She has lots of things going in her mind. I am excited for what's she is going to tell me today. There's a different look on her face. And here she comes to tell me about her day. Let's see what she has to tell me..
DEAR READER,
Hello, I am Chipku. I am a diary, a personal diary of a girl named Ara. I have all her secrets hidden within me. But it's time for some secrets to be revealed. I am here to tell you an incident, a memory of Ara. She's no more now, but her experiences and stories are definitely going to excite you, and if you're bored then you must read it. So tie your belts, get some popcorn ready and let's start the journey.
BEFORE YOU READ
I am going to recite the story and I am just the narrator, what Ara wrote in me is going to be the same. So let's begin.
________________________________________
It is 4th of August, 2019 and Ara has finally turned 14. Every year she waits for her birthday to come. She loves distributing sweets to her classmates. But this year, it's different for her. She is not excited about distributing sweets, she is not excited for her birthday. She is just curious about certain things. She is quite happy too, her fellow poets made her birthday special. I know how much special is Writer's Block and it's people for her. Writer's block is like her second home. She joined it one year ago, when she started writing poems. Ara can spent her whole day on this app. Each day passes and she is becoming curious. She spends her whole day reading or writing poems. She has changed now. But it's a better change. She has become fun, loving, and caring.
Months have passed and everything's the same. She wakes up, gets ready, goes to school, comes home, does her assignments, and again writes to me. I wait everyday that today she is going to come and tell me something new, but everyday it's almost the same. I am bit tired now, listening to the same things.
Today is 15th of November. Today, Ara seems very curious and a bit sad too. She has lots of things going in her mind. I am excited for what's she is going to tell me today. There's a different look on her face. And here she comes to tell me about her day. Let's see what she has to tell me..