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Shraddha Chavanke

A wander lost soul on hunt to explore. Place and People makes me move and write amazing fictional stories
The daily Hues
Short Published over 3 years ago

The smoke in the air smells bizzare ,the euphoric sensation she has. She smokes her weed with a delight.
The mirage of her broken dreams haunts in her nightmares . It was just an illusion of what she had."Death clinging her crystal meth" Thoughtless perplexed she sats in pensive mood . She had been going through since past lapse of time . A "thing" tried in "trial" had become her latest "obsession". Was it the past that haunted her ??
To her agonies in disguise . She appeared a head strong glamarous lad. Yet inside she was broken underneath .

She beagan her ritual trial. The counts of weed increased . Recently from her onset journery on the ganges ghat. She would go into a spiritual insight. She would wander and wander said something to herself . Was it the intoxication that weed poured into her. She kept murmuring it as the sages recited ."The wound is the place where light enters you". She lied on her bed in a perpetual pity. She would be lost for words then .She knew it was long coming back .

It ain't she had tried coming back .But to the mercy the oblivion triggered her veins.

A sudden startle would made her sadden . She could not be happy in gaily times. She had better become her worst.
Death clinged her.

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Shraddha Chavanke
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The Chai story
Short Published over 3 years ago

She sat there bewildered in her thoughts.
And he from a distance sculpting her
Both immersed in their cocoons
On one sultry evening
On that roadside chai stall

Each portraying its story
Had a lot to tell
SHE ~ a poet of words
HE~ the artist of strokes
Colours and words
Were sure to be confined
That one fine day..

His shades has he stroked
Captured her perfect blush
The glitter in her eyes
The charishma she carried

While gazing him from a distance
Glimpses catched
He in the very casual
So submerged
A meet of not words
But glances and smiles
A worth...

He thought and gazed
At the perfect portrait just made.

She scripted him in her words
Her memoirs of scribbles of that day.

Both ready to leave.... Yet a marvel turn they both took

Towards each other they walked.

He with his winsome smile
And she with her perfect blush

And in a moment they glanced
Words and colours
Had surely confined
On that fine sultry evening
That fine day
At roadby chai stall....

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Shraddha Chavanke
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