Reflection mag july 2014 by Reflection W&R Mag

MOPH

Contents Editorial

Healed By Beauty Environment

Fatima Alhusseiny

Dr. Ruchida Barman

An Urgent Message To Mankind Save The Animals

Let's Nurture

An Obligation

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo Neelam Dadhwal

Jaffar S. Safwan

Diwakar Pokhriyal

A Greener Earth

Marilyn Canete

Shahid Khan

Recycling The Dumpheap

Angela Marie Blake, A Poetess, A Writer, A Novelist.. 24 Notion

Sourav R. C.

Thrown Out Of Seasons

Dr. Indira Babbellapati

On Possible Consequences Of transition To Democracy Red Dawn

Sharique Jamal

Black Poltergeists Safe Heaven

The Savage Harvest

Sharique Jamal

Reflection July 2014

Fahmid Hassan Prohor

Shahid Khan

John Xu

On Window Pane Environment

Basilia

Bhavuk Mathur

Beautiful Nature 53

The Great Dying

Charles Darnell

The Tree Hugger

Arie

The Environment Save The Planet

Why I Write? 55

Praveen Gola

Long Live Kolkata 65

Guidelines 59

Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee

A Tribute To All Photographers Narayn 66

Your Reflection

Editor Speaks

Chairman

Ms Fatima Alhusseiny (Lebanon) Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee (India)

85 Kumar Vikrant

Ganesh

Managing Editor Iram Fatima 'Ashi' (Saudi Arabia, NRI)

Dr. Indira Babbellapati (India)

In The Name Of Love

Advisory Board

Associate Editors Dr. Ruchida Barman (India)

Ganesh Narayan

Editorial Borad

Editor Vasanthi Papu (India)

Landscapes By R. K. Verma

Sehnsuchit Purnima

Chitra Dheer

Mr. Brian E. Wrixon (Canada) Members Ms. Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo (Philippines) Mr. Charles Darnell lives (San Antonio, Texas, USA) Mr. Sharique Jamal (India) Ms. Angie Blake(USA) Ms. Marilyn Reandino Ca単ete (Manila, Philippines)

Dr. Sahab Uddin (India) Mr. Arnab Neogi (India) Editor Art Section R. K. Verma Page layout Team Reflection

III

Dear Readers Love to you all... This time we picked the topic 'Environment' for the sake of awareness. Environment is the surrounding of an organism or population which includes the factors that have an influence in their survival, development and evolution. I felt so proud to receive bold writes of our sincere writers, poets and artists from all over the world. Each and every creation in form of poetry, short story, article and art have unique aroma of inspiration, I wish through this issue we would be able to create awareness and to care about our surroundings. My hearty thanks to all our contributors Editor Ms. Vasanthi, co足operative associate Editors, artist Mr. R. K. Verma, Layout maker Mr. Kumar Vikrant and his team of Reflection. And a warm welcome to the Advisory board members and chairman Mr. Brian Wrixon who accepted to be part of our family for guidance and improvement. Love and blessings

Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

Saudia Arabia (NRI)

Healed by Beauty Fatima Alhusseiny (Jordan) As strong as this wind My mind swirls around, With safe pleasure, Of this total peace Of eternal bliss, This wind, Makes the truth More vivid and alive, In every mind In every generation, Because no one can lose A creator, A healer, A God from nature And nothing more clear.

Environment Dr. Ruchida Barman (Jaipur, India) I was teaching my class a famous short story “THE GIFT OF THE MAGI”. The story in itself is a heart touching one. But a particular line caught my attention. It goes like this: “Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with a powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard.” The poetic device of using Alliteration here has the purpose of focusing on the color GRAY. The color Gray reflects the sadness in the protagonist Della’s heart. But see the Narrative art of the poet who shows us that everything that Della looks upon seems to be gray to her. Not that things change their color but NATURE has the capacity to reflect human emotions. It is a miracle in nature the benignity in nature that is able to do that.

When we are in a happy state of mind the cloudy weather seems to make us want to go out, freak out with friends and relatives and the dear ones. On the other hand when we are in a sad and pensive mood the same weather reflects sadness to us, the rain seems as if Nature too is crying with us. Have we ever tried to reflect why this is so? The answer is NO. The reason being we take Nature too much for granted. We never think that Nature only GIVES, GIVES and GIVES. We on the other hand, only TAKE, TAKE and TAKE from it. Our Environment is loaded with such MIRACLES. What about the Rainbow, the Silver Lining in the clouds, the Beautiful Flowers, the springs, so on and so forth. The Miracles are endless but we humans are blind to them because we take them for granted. Nature is like our best friend who stands by us in all types of our moods and frames of mind. A friend might leave our side but Nature does not. We never realize this aspect of Environment around us.

The writers of the yester years celebrated the importance of Environment in our lives. Writers like Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge, Hazlitt, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson just to name a few, highlighted aspects that we normal human beings could not ever imagine. 5

They drew our attention to the fact that Environment around us moulds us; Being close to Nature gives us a strength of character that those living in the cities cannot ever hope to develop (Michael and Solitary Reaper Wordsworth,); Destroying Environment brings curse on us and makes existence impossible (The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner Coleridge); Strength to move on in life can be derived from the Environment around (Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening Robert Frost) and so many more instances……

The surprising aspect is how come we the more enlightened ones, the more educated ones do not understand the importance of Environment. We have looted and plundered Nature beyond redemption and the future generations are going to pay for this. In our race to succeed, to be rich, to be powerful we have taken away the resources of Environment; broken the food chain; Spoiled the Ecological Balance……How can we repay what we have taken?

Actually we have never even thought of doing it. Our selfish nature only knows how to take and not to give, the same as we do in our relationships too. We learn the lesson only when we are hurt back but the greatness of our Environment lies in the fact that it never hurts us. It is not just for no reason that it is called MOTHER NATURE. 7

We have exploited and plundered Nature on and on and on and like a mother it has selflessly fulfilled all our needs. It has gracefully and gratefully given us all her treasures. But when the extreme point is reached it reacts that is when the Natural Calamities strike. We need to understand that even mothers get angry sometimes but never without any valid reason. I would like to wrap up the write up with the following thought: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Trees are poems that the Earth writes upon the skyÍž we fell them down and turn them into paper, that we may record our emptinessâ&#x20AC;?

An Urgent Message to Mankind Marilyn Canete (Manila, Philippines)

Something’s wrong with the Rain! Do you notice it? It used to be I’d frolic under its cool and refreshing drops from Heaven, But now, I wouldn’t let the raindrops even dare to touch my casing, Because I’m afraid it would eat away my soft tissue as it turns to be a monster in the form of acid rain. Something’s wrong with the Air! Do you smell it? It used to be I’d just want to stand still by the roadside to lavish its invigorating rush as I breathe in and out. But now I have to cover nose and mouth, Because I’m wary of the dust and smoke that threaten to wear my lungs out. Something’s wrong with the Seas and the Oceans! Do you see it? It used to be a safe haven for every sea creatures. But look! Fishes, whales, Dolphins and the likes— corpse and carcasses upon the shore. Because of coral reef destruction, oil spills and garbage dumping I can’t help but abhor. Something’s wrong with the Sun! Do you feel it? It used to be gentle enough to warm me up and make me sweat. But now, I would not brave to go out and beat its searing heat, Because I might be in for a deadly heat stroke or equally worse—a skin cancer I might get. Something’s wrong with the Earth, do you not perceive it? The Rain, the Air, the Seas and Oceans, the Sun… They’re all telling an urgent message for mankind, Destruction is inevitable if we are keeping blind. In the beginning, God chose man to rule over all the earth, But man has shown to be a bad ruler slowly bringing earth to its death. Therefore you who care not for the urgent message, Know that God has spoken, there’s an appointed time to destroy those who destroy the Earth.

Save Animals From Extinction Shahid Khan (India) I shifted to our new house in the suburbs some three years ago when summer had just begun. It was a refreshing change to be away from the congested city environment where only concrete jungle reigns. Initially, I had some free time in my hand, so I enjoyed the open environment of the suburb. There was greenery around our house with different flowering plants and the trees. It also attracted various kinds of birds. So it was very calm to be with natural beauty around me. I loved to spend cool summer evenings watching and observing the plants, the beautiful birds and the butterflies near our house. The melodious sound of cuckoos and the bulbuls, the sight of humming birds around flowers, the beautiful spectacle of kites soaring and hovering high in the open sky, the occasional view of the flock of migratory birds passing through the city to their destination and the mynas running around everywhere. It was not the first time that I enjoyed the beauty of nature so closely. During my school days, I used to spend my summer vacation at my grannyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bungalow which was on the outskirts of the city. And it was since then I developed a habit of watching, observing and appreciating the beauty of nature whenever I got a chance.

But my experience with nature this time was somewhat different from that of my childhood . I felt that something was completely missing from the environment. I couldn’t make out what it had been until one day in a newspaper I read a headline, “Come, let’s save the sparrow”. The news report highlighted disappearance of house sparrows from the city and its vicinities and the need to save them from extinction. It was then I realized that it was the house sparrow which was missing from the environment. Some 810 years ago the sight of house sparrow was so common that it was like a part of the family. A host of sparrows hopping and chirping in the neighborhood was so familiar a sight! The way they water bathed in a small puddle was a sheer joy to watch. But since last few years the visibility of house sparrows has become very rare. I used to think that it was due to the flurry of activities of city life that we couldn’t notice the house sparrows anymore. But the news report was an eye opener. It gave a hint that something is wrong due to which there occurred the

fast disappearance of a social bird like a house sparrow which is so closely associated with human habitation. Hectic building足construction activity leads to large scale tree felling which in turn affected the sparrow population negatively. As the city is getting more and more congested with high足rise buildings and flats replacing the old housing system, the house sparrows could not find suitable place for nesting. In cities, sparrows usually build their nest in the eaves and other crevices of the houses. But modern buildings are designed in such a manner that the entry of small birds and animals are totally blocked. Earlier, people used to keep bird足feeder outside their houses and feed the birds with grains and water but that custom has also died due to the hectic city lifestyle and lack of adequate living space. Sparrows like to feed on ground but now roads and streets are so busy with movement of people and vehicles that

sparrows never get a chance to even touch the ground. During the festival of Uttarayan (Kite Festival) large number of birds die or get badly injured. The kite strings are made up of thick cotton thread coated with glass powder and gelatin. These strings are so sharp that they cut the wings of the birds, which includes little sparrows. Because of all these, the population of house sparrows has drastically declined.The condition of house sparrows may not be so bad everywhere but here the situation is different. Here, even media has started spreading awareness about the need to save the little sparrow from extinction. Since last two three years events/campaigns are organized where clay nests and bird feeders are distributed to those people interested in saving the sparrows. “Save the Tiger campaign” has many supporters, but people especially those living in the cities cannot do anything about the tiger. The sparrows could be saved, because they live so close to us, in our surroundings. So if serious efforts are made by people themselves by selfrealization, awareness and doing their bit, the house sparrows could be saved.

Here it is the house sparrow which is facing the threat of extinction. In other places it might be some other species of wild life which might be facing similar fate. Every species of plant and animal has special importance in the ecosystem in which they exist. But human activities like urbanization, deforestation, industrialization, unplanned development余 pollution etc. disrupts the ecosystem and threatens the existence of plants and animals living in it. We should introspect and realize that how our thoughtless activities affect the nature and destroys its beauty. We should show some

compassion and care for the plant and animal species which co足exist with us in our environment. If we continue to remain lackadaisical, the day is not far when the plants and animals which exist around us would get imprisoned only as lifeless pictures on google and books and our next generations would get to know them through that sources only. Then how shameful it would be when our children and grand children ask questions and we would have to hang our heads in shame for not being caring enough for the environment and the animals living it.

Recycling The Dumpheap Jaffer S. Safwan (Saudi Arabia)

There was a meandering road that cut unequally the village Samira was living in. Huts built of Palm fronds and leaves were scattered haphazardly on both sides of the dirt, zigzag road. Dumpheaps were the only place people dumped their leftover. Only dogs, cats, chickens, sheep, goats, donkeys and some strayed animals ate what it was left for them and thrown on those dumpheaps. Small kids used to play also with the rest of the animals. They were like one family, roaming around and playing in total harmony. Love and peace between animals and kids.

He looked at her but she could see sadness in his eyes. He said: “If I could find enough fertilizer, then things might change in the farm. But those people who have cows in their houses won't sell their cows' dung at a fair price.”

Samira was born in a very poor family. She was very bony, tall, beautiful, long hair, big eyes and her moon like face was invested with smallpox, but everyone in her family and surroundings knew that she was very unique and different from the rest of the kids of her age. She was brilliant and gifted in many ways. Her dreams were bigger than her age. She was dreaming of changing her lifestyle, her envirnoment, and moving forward to make a place for her and her family in a world, the only real thing in it was and still, change.

“If you look outside our hut” Samira said and then added, “you will find a dumpheap with all kinds of animals roaming and feeding there day and night, and dumping their own dungs.”

One morning, she was sitting with her father in the shade of a palm tree in the open part of the family's hut. He was smoking Nargile (Water Pipe) and drinking black, plain coffee. She asked her father if his small farm was giving him fairly enough food and income to feed his family.

Samira smiled. Then she said to her father, “I have an idea and this idea will make you get all the fertilizer you need for free. Let those people keep their dungs in their cowsheds.” “What do you have on your mind?” her father asked his daughter. Samira.

She took a long breath and added,” the dungs create bad smells and those smells end in creating sickness to us, here in our family and to our neighbors and bring poisonous insects to our homes. As matter of fact, one of the insect bited my skin last night and made me cry. Plus they make our envirnment dirty and insanitary.” “So what do you suggest?” her father asked. “Well,” she said, “You can ask the kids outside to help you gather all the dungs the animals drop on the dumpheap and take all the

leftover and recycle it.” She stopped for a second and added, “Recycling the leftover is one way to get your fertilizer and to make the envirmoment clean. This way, you can be a poineer in saving our society of many diseases, that many people are infected with and you can have your own fertilizer for free.” He smiled. “I think it is a good idea and cost nothing,” he said, “I will try to get help from our neighbors' kids tomorrow and I will use it in the farm. Hope it will spare me from buying dungs from those ones who raise cows at their homes.” The days that followed, he started to apply the idea and day by day, he saw it working in his farm. The trees got greener, stronger and bore lots of fruits. His neighbors thanked him for lefting over the bad things from the dumpheap which lead to no more bad smells and decreased the number of people infected with diseases. Other people in the same village heard of what he did, and started doing the same. In one year or two, that girl's idea eliminated almost all the sources of insanitary in the village, helped the people recover their health, and the poor farmers found an alternative fertilizer to use instead of the cows' dungs, and the dumpheaps vanished from the road.

Let’s Nurture Diwakar Pokhriyal (Delhi, India)

Dancing frames are polluted, Lively water is now dead, Soothing sky breathing heavily, Pearly sea has turned red, Yet a mysterious smile subsists, Soaked in monetary gains, Blindfolding the “Truth”, Enjoying unattended cavernous gains, Whose error is this? Having repercussions on innumerable souls, Why the chaste heart suffers, Due to few tainted goals?

Let’s keep personal gains aside, To create the mansion of prosperity, Let’s pledge to join hands, For waking up “The Humanity” Let’s rise to the occasion, Become Careful, Determined and Accommodating, Let’s nurture the pure environment, Giving Humanity the highest rating

A Greener Earth Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo ( Philippines)

Lush greeneries abound Sweet smelling scent of blooming flowers in Spring As children play around a beauteous prairie, The Earth used to be a cooler place to live in Fresh air we breathe, not much pollution, When we walk out to enjoy a Summerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s day. Can we still have a greener Earth? Despite all these toxic things around us, Man was designated by God to look over His creations But due to greed for power and money, He forgot whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s his real mission on this planet Can we ever reverse the amount of pollution? A greener Earth is what we all dream of A breath of fresh air when the dawn sets in, To be surrounded by tall trees with branches Spreading towards the Heavens as if praying, For rains to come and shower this arid land A greener Earth is still possible if we simply take the initiative!

An Obligation Neelam Dadhwal (Chandigarh, India) Nectar of life flows through the plains, pure, sweet, in curls like the sound of a santoor, the peaks shine straight and the sky glances at its shape with an occasional cloud and must be eager for a journey as the stream gets lost in turns of a terrain. The trees on the edges, the flight of herons in the yonder sky return to the curve of leaves余 fresh, dark in the vigor scent of the earth where butterflies, snails and earthworms create a heaven furthering more. The herds till dusk, the laughter of children sweep through the slope in bondage with the rise and fall of the sun and shadows, of air and water

and the stories of the passageways till it is made sterile. The damp potholes, the thorns passing through each the shade of a tree, a small hill, no ways are left a leash of vines and jute the fruits of forest entangle how beautiful it is to belong. Such a joy on this earth shelter the mankind with its friends, only seemingly foes steer in spirited design with a little obligation to take care and respect the environment so subtle and cardinal.

Angela Marie Blake, a poetess, a writer, a novelist...

Angela Marie Blake from U.S.is a poetess, writer and novelist. She is now one of the Advisory board members of Reflection. Angela wrote a poem in 1984 for my writing class, and it was read in front of the class, and she received an A+. The instructor said she would have graded it higher if there was such a thing. This was a start of a journey into creative world. She wrote articles for the college newspaper while majoring in Journalism for two years. In 1986 several of her poems were put into an anthology book and read during a poetry reading in front of many college students. Throughout the years many of her poems have been in several anthologies. She joined an online group called "Booksie" in which I still belong and started self publishing them on there. 'Elisabeth McBride' was her first novel. It was published in July 2013. She had four books since then.

Interview By

Iram Fatima 'Ashi' 24

Ashi: Greetings to you ma'am ! At the outset, on behalf of ‘Reflection Magazine’, I would like to thank you on being family member of Reflection and for accepting my request to interview you.Tell us something about the place you belong to, your childhood, education and hobbies. I was born in Pocatello Idaho in 1963. I have two brothers and one sister. When I was two years old we moved to Independence, Oregon. Then when I was twenty five years old I moved to Salem, Oregon and have been residing here ever since. I lived in a family where family traditions, beliefs and holidays were very important. Spending family time together was also important. We enjoyed camping, fishing, hiking and, other outdoor activities. I try to instill this with my children and Grandchildren. Now I have three children; two girls and a boy. I also have two grandchildren. I am very proud of each and every one of my children. Ashi: It's really interesting to know about your life. Now please share your writing experience the age you started writing and what inspired you to pick your pen? I started writing short stories and poetry when I was twelve years old. It was always hard for me to express myself by speaking so I picked up the pen and started to write. I wrote for several years. I got married at an early age, and my first husband passed away when I was very young. I picked up the pen then. I wrote again in the year 2000 after I got my first computer. I got busy raising kids and didn't pick up the pen again until my mother passed away in the year 2011. It helped ease the pain to write and she always loved my writing. I promised myself never to put down the pen again. Ashi: Kindly tell us something about any other hobby of yours. Every year my husband and I go camping up at Fisherman's Bend here in Oregon. It's near Detroit Oregon. There I love to hike, camp, fish and take pictures. I also do a lot of my writing up there where it's peaceful and there is no hustle and bustle of city living. I also love to go explore old lighthouses. Every year my family and I pick a lighthouse to explore. It's interesting to learn about, and I've learned many stories of history through the lighthouses that we've explored.

For several years I have been involved in the family research of our family. My father of the Italian descent and my mother being German and from Peculiar, Missouri, has made this an interesting hobby to endure. I learned of many historical people that grace our families history (some good, and some not so good) and the many interesting people that make our family what it is today. It has been an interesting journey to say the least! Ashi: However, poetry is a medium to express oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s inner feelings. Is there any specific moment or event that made you write? Yes, there is. I write a lot when I am hurt inside. When my mother passed away three years ago is when I really started to write. Ashi: I am sorry to know this but writing is really therapy to come up from all pains. What is your favorite topic to write on? And do you have a specific writing style? I love to write Paranormal/Ghost stories. I also like to write a lot of things from the darker side. My favorite topic to write on is being cozy mysteries, suspense and history. Ashi: That is really interesting to know, would you like to share something about your personal life with our readers to know you more closely? I have taken many twists and turns in my lifetime. I think it only makes a person more interesting and helps a person to grow inside. I've made several decisions in my life. The only benefit was learning a hard, lifelong lesson from them. It took a long time for me to learn about true love and family. I'm hoping it doesn't take over forty years for other people to find true love and happiness. Ashi: Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s true. Who is your favorite writer/poet? My favorite writer would have to be Stephen King. He inspired me to write about the dark side and things that go bump in the night.

Ashi: When did your first poem/story/novel get published? Please share your feeling of that moment. My first poems and short stories were published in an online magazine called 'Animal Ways'. They published several stories and poems and gave me the confidence to go elsewhere to seek publication as well. I was elated when my first stories were published. I'd never thought that anyone else would appreciate my writing, and want to publish it. It built confidence and self足esteem. I will never forget the moment of happiness when my first poem was accepted. Ashi: That is exceptional feeling, I can understand. According to you, what are the most important elements of good writing? A good strong story. Give your readers something that is all unique, and all your own. If it's a good strong story and an entertaining plot they will not only remember the writer but they might over look some things that aren't so perfect. Give a little bit of yourself to your readers. Personalize your stories. Even in a horror story you can give the reader something or someone that they can relate to. Someone they'll want to cheer on or someone they will love to hate. Ashi: Very well said. Did you always have full appreciation and support for your talent in writing? My mother supported me with my writing the whole time I was growing up, and my husband and kids support me now. My mother was always my greatest fan. Ashi: According to you, which poem of yours is your masterpiece? My poem about my mother is my masterpiece. It tells exactly how I feel about her going to heaven.

Ashi: Please share any of your poems close to your heart.

Every Time I Close My Eyes I hear you during the morning hours singing with your music when you get ready to go to work I hear you cooking dinner in the kitchen every night after you get home from the office. I hear you saying "Love your grandchildren" unconditionally because they are a part of you and because you are a part of me. I hear you every time I close my eyes. I smell you when someone wears the perfume you liked so much or the sweet smell of the bath spray you loved to put on right after your bath I smell you when I stop to smell the beautiful roses every day when I go for my daily walk because I know how much you loved them. I smell you when I hold your blanket close to me when I feel like cuddling. I smell you every time I close my eyes. I see you every Christmas eve hustling around to make it so special for everyone in the family. Sitting on your bed doing puzzles or crocheting hats and scarves for the homeless people. I see you every time I look into my children's faces and know that a part of you is there. I see you every time I close my eyes. I miss you Every time I take a breath. Every time I blink my eyes. Every move I make during the day. And, every love I give my children and my grandchildren. I miss you every time I close my eyes.

Ashi: It is really a touching piece from your pen. What is the best thing about being a poetess, writer and novelist? The best thing is to be able to share my writing with other people. I love hearing from a person "I couldn't put your book down," or "It was so scary," or "How did you come up with that?" Ashi: Share your journey about poetess to novelist. And tell us something about your Novel. I've been writing poetry since I was twelve years old. My mother always insisted that I should get some published because she said they were that good. She also insisted that I needed to try my hand at writing books. She said I had the talent to make a good author and I should put it to good use. I didn't believe her. After she passed away I made a silent promise to my mother that I would write a book and get it published. 'Elisabeth McBride' came to life after thinking of a story I'd heard from one of my friends about a ghost. I reiterated on the story and started creating a character and a story line. Thus, 'Elisabeth McBride' was born. 'Elisabeth McBride' is a story of a young girl. She was born to a rich family in the 1800's. She was trapped in her room for almost 18 years. On the eve of her 18th birthday she escaped the only way she knew how. Now Elisabeth haunted the halls of the McBride mansion preying on her next innocent victims. Read the story of Elisabeth McBride. Will five investigators escape the wrath of Elisabeth McBride or will Elisabeth win hands down again?

Ashi: That seems very interesting. Please share your future plans with us. I will be editing and making changes to 'Elisabeth McBride' to get her publisher ready. I also have several other books at Amazon.com, as well. I intend to write more paranormal/ghost stories, and publish them on Amazon. I will also try my hand at writing articles hopefully for this magazine and other magazines, as well. Ashi: Sure, we will love to read your upcoming novel and articles. What advice would you give your contemporary writers and poets? I would ask you to never give up if you have a dream of being a published writer. Keep writing. Keep pouring your heart and soul into your writing. Be kind to everyone you meet and introduce yourself to everyone. The more people you know the better. The more admissions you send the better off you'll be. Someday someone will read your writing, and they'll love a particular poem or story, and may want to publish it in their magazine. Ashi: So true. You are now the Advisory Board member of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Reflection Magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, Kindly give your valuable views on our magazine for improvement. I must say this is one of the most beautiful magazines I've ever read. I adore the artwork, the poetry and the stories. There are very few things I would improve. I've been looking over past issues, and I could see a few spots for improvement. On some of the publications it is hard to read the poem or story because the background behind it is so vivid and bright. As much as we all love backgrounds, I was thinking that maybe you should fade the backgrounds behind the poems or stories so the poems/stories stand out more. Maybe change the text to a different color and make it a little larger text. For instance on one of the stories I was reading there were blue markings going through it, as a part of the art work. It was distracting from the story. If you just fade the artwork a little and make the font a little larger on the stories it may be helpful. I love the March issue where you did the story of The Awakening and how the artwork set in that story and the

poem before and afterwards. It did not distract from the story or the poem and yet, we could see the beautiful artwork in its entity. I love that. I don't know who does the art work for this magazine but it is gorgeous. I love it all. I wouldn't change a thing on the art work, except for maybe some of the backgrounds behind the stories. I, as well as others I am sure, have bad eye sight. In order for me to read a magazine I have to press on the magnifying glass or the 'zoom' button to make things larger. The problem with this is when you press on the 'zoom' button it takes out half the story and half of the artwork. I am wondering if there is any plausible way to make it so that doesn't happen. I don't know. Since we are all from different countries I was also wondering if we can do an issue those talks about life in other countries. I think it would be nice to familiarize ourselves with how other people live and their family traditions, etc. I think it would be a good addition to the wonderful magazine you guys have already published.

Thank you for letting me be a part of your magazine. Author Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/angiesbooknook My author and family website:

http://angieblake.wix.com/angieslibrary My Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00EIQU3EU My Amazon page is where all my books are published. I would love to have you there Ashi! Thanks so much for the interview! Ashi : Thank you to share your true words of wisdom in the literary field and for improvement of our literary magazine. The budding writers are sure to draw nourishment from the radiance of your spirit and your gracious advice would boost up their enthusiasm to create marvels from their pens. Hope to grow more enlightening company of yours. Profound thanks to you!

Notion Sourav RC (India) In the midst of a concrete jungle Where dreams live and life tangles I hunt for a spot with my finesse Where I can see life’s acetic face. Where there is calmness of heartstrings, Melodies of birds – joy they bring, A feeling free from poisonous brace How lovely would be my loneliness! Yet life exhibits its cruel act, A Fallen race’ dismal facts, A belief of mine lacks the space, No place for Eden on earth’s base.

Thrown out of seasons Dr. Indira Babbellapati (India) Trees stand there like dummies lifeless as if painted on a dead canvas. People come out of their heated ovens only when the sun throws them in an illusion of setting. The body is as if emerged from a dip in salty sea waters... The earth sits by a country stove even when it's time to rest in the cool shadows of the moon足tree... Open the tap, and lo, you've water from natural hot springs... Even before it gets dissolved in the earth, the body attains a coat of it dotted with salt particles as a dress rehearsal... In his own making to satisfy his greed, how man has extended the seasons to his own peril .

On Possible consequences of transition to democracy John Xu (Hangzhou, China) Most of city boys and girls in China have already been abroad. Even those who haven’t are constantly after American mass culture. Boys spend their free time with vehement discussions about whether Kobe Bryant was a better NBA player than Lebron James. But they are not the only advocates of that magically appealing culture an ocean away, oldtimers, moreover, are also regarding the United States of America as a lesser political enemy than as an institutional model. Those are the people who have lived through the disillusion of sixties and the brutal oppression of 1989 and for them, America means something symbolic: the hope of freedom and democracy. For average middleclass people in China, they see food price going up nearly threefolds in the last eight years and are constantly worrying about their pensions; many cannot keep up with the scale of mounting inflation that is

watering down everything people have saved, even if they have saved a far higher portion of money than their European counterparts, an estimated amount from IMF says that Chinese people saves more than fifty percent of their incomes, the highest in the world. Amid the growing agitation towards the future of China, both politically and economically, people seem to have not really asked themselves: What is democracy and what it means to them. Democracy exists and can only exist under certain conditions and its results are far from all being good. It is thus in my opinion necessary to point out the inadequacy in importing the western democracy, especially when it will entail in a major transition in the structure of power. Democracy is the fruition of a particular regional and cultural influence which will find

itself not in line with culture of other states. The dictionary definition of democracy is a form of government where all eligible citizens of the country participate through elective representatives in the creation of the common law. The typical form of democratic society sprang into form in 1620 when the ship Mayflower carried with it 102 passengers and crew members of about 25—30. Most of them were English puritans and separatists who escaped the persecutions from the British government. The subsequent establishment of Plymouth colony ensured the birth of the first democratic society in the American continent. Among more than 100 inhabitants of Plymouth colony, most of them were members of welloff families who chose to dwell on the new land so they could worship as they saw fit. This means most of them were members of similar ranks and held no privilege upon any other member. Their longheld ideal of religious freedom

also forbade them to meddle with other people’s beliefs. In this case, the seed of democracy had already been embedded once Mayflower anchored on shore, and indeed, democracy usually embeds on societies of small size. Ancient Greece preserved the tradition of freedom and democracy by operating in small and separate citystates, so was Roman Republic until its increasing geographic scale and military rendered such an institution incompatible. The United States, though having a central federal government that regulates overall pictures, has no power over state governments in executing the orders federal government issued. Tax will be levied only by state government and programs to build public infrastructure will only be executed through state government. There are two reasons Americans favor such arrangement: First, it is not possible for the federal government to oversee every project by itself. Regional differences will definitely have to be taken into account and

different cultures mean that people from different regions may display totally different reaction towards the same edict. What follows will be misallocation of resources and public resentment towards bureaucracy. The other reason is less about practical utility but equally important in terms of preserving democracy. The tradition of American society revolves around individual townships. Citizens in towns are responsible for organizing affairs of their own towns through public associations and elective representatives. The whole idea is that citizens, by engaging in towns’ affairs, either politically or economically, can foster equality in political rights or reduce the inequalities that may occur through chances. This arrangement, though, compatible with American culture, can still risk a comeback of tyranny. The biggest enemy of democracy will be idleness of citizens who fear that their efforts have become only drops of water in a bucket when every one has equal right and power to exercise the public

conduct. If they recourse to isolate themselves from the public affairs and choose instead to focus on small and trivial issues that will have shortterm effects on themselves, the power of the central government will greatly increase and will ultimately result in breach of individual’s rights. The idea of democracy and capitalism was the keystone for European nations during the Cold War. But the democracy they adopted was a lot different from that of America, and Europeans did not trust their supposed allies across the ocean any better than Soviet Union. One of the main reasons was attributed to the damage from the World War II. European economies after the War had lost most of their financial preeminence if not all. England, for example, lost more than a quarter of its national wealth and had to rely on the LandLease Aid from US. Other Europeans economies faired even worse. The agricultural production level in Europe was 83% of its 1938 level,

the industrial production level 88% and export level merely 53%. The reconstruction could not continue without enough economic growth and many European civilians had to rely on aids. Under such a condition, with millions of people going hungry every day, the freedom from democracy became no more than blank talks. People wanted a sense of security. They wanted to make sure that their families would have a place to live, have enough food to spend the day and a secure job. Indeed, job creation became the top focus of most of European nations. Welfare benefits sprang up to make sure that unemployed people could enjoy state benefits and aids. It will be worth mentioning that all of the economic reforms could not have carried on if US did not generously provide the Marshall Aids to European countries. Marshall Plan was provided in the form of grants which meant that Europe would not endure the typical national debt many of developing countries are now facing. Although it forced European nations to

conduct free trade with America, the benefit largely surpassed the drawbacks. The newly acquired fund was used to repair damaged infrastructures and provide social securities for citizens. So it can be argued that the playing field was leveled for every body, but at the expense of years of strict rationing and the devastation of the World War. The Eastern Europe, though, had no such luck as their western counterparts had enjoyed. Having suffered the damage from the War, it was further reduced to the command of Soviet Union, one of the two mightiest nations emerged from the War. It would take Eastern European nations four decades to extricate themselves from the claws of USSR, and the result wasn’t the one they had been looking forward to. It’s interesting to take a close look at the Soviet Bloc, and the idea of communism itself. Communism is an imported notion from the western world. Its founder, Karl Marx, envisioned a society after the overthrow

of Capitalism which he said caused the widening gap between the bourgeoisie class and the proletariat class. In his opinion, the excessive division of labor was meant solely to exploit people of the working class and should be abandoned. Moreover, Communism operates under the centrallyplanned economy where production plants are all nationally owned. A typical example will be the collectivization of farmlands. It would seem as if Communism was another way to reduce inequality and enter the “classless” society: the absolute equality among every body, and the ultimate democracy. But history said otherwise. USSR was the most oppressive regime in the twentieth century, not one of. There are distinct differences between USA and USSR. USA was created from members who had been practicing religious tolerance when they reached the new land, and the number of people constituting a typical American town was not many. The practicing of political freedom had been carrying on for more than

a century before America decided upon its ultimate separation from its mother country. Democracy had been deeply rooted in American lives before the creation of the country. The idea of equality and communism in Russia, however, was brought about through the bloody revolution. The storming of the Winter Palace overthrew the monarch system that had been existed for hundreds of years, but the ordinary people didn’t really have a clue of what liberty was, and thus had no idea how they were to exercise it. This ignorance was abused by the central government evident by the misleading propaganda and massive purges and persecutions in 1950s. When the power of the individuals was equated and limited, they were helpless against the monstrous institution that was above them. 1989 would be a year when everything fell apart. The old colossal institutions would shiver for the first time and collapse eventually. The name behind this institutional dissolution was Mikhail Gorbachev,

the President of the Soviet Union from 1990 to 1991. A rising star that was significantly younger than his predecessor Konstantin Chernenko, he was different from the old guys who adopted the conservative old communist doctrines, in which free speech was banned outright and the economy operated through strict quota and collectivization. Gorbachev’s initiative would be to restructure the economy of Soviet Union by inviting creative endeavors and market elements, but his policy backfired. The institution of Soviet Union was itself an inhibitor of economic growth because land collectivization and quota system discouraged incentives to innovate. Why would any one bother to reduce the cost if the surplus production was not allowed? In order to create a market economy, certain key cores of the Party’s doctrine had to be abolished, which would be a precipitator to the dissolution of the Party itself. Property right, free speech and the expansion of private sector would further hinder the power of

the Communist party. Gorbachev initially believed that it was possible to find a balance between Communism and a limited privatization of economy, but what he created instead was a chainreaction that brought down the empire. There are numerous similarities to be identified between the history of modern China and the history of Soviet Union. Sharing the same belief of Communism, advocating that the party should be the vanguard of the society, Communist China experienced the same purge of the party members during the Cultural Revolution. Mao Zedong, the Chairman of the Communist Party of China, had a nature of cruelty and suspicion no less than that of Joseph Stalin, if not more. The economy of China during the later half of the twentieth century took the same trajectory as USSR’s economy. Land collectivization was also widely adopted which resulted in the same situation Soviet Union ended up in the widespread famine that

starved millions of people. Free speech was limited and people were under the strict surveillance from the government. So would China have followed the path Soviet Union had it taken the path Mikhail Gorbachev took? The answer seems to be yes. There problem of Chinese economy was largely systematic. Land, if privatized, would render the Communist Party, no longer the voice of the proletariat and would precipitate the party’s illegitimacy. If the chain reaction dissolved the Communist Party in USSR, it would have dissolved the Communist Party in China too. Although the immediate dissolution still seems remote, the openingup policy issued by Deng Xiaoping and the increasing contact with the western world through either trade or personal relations, and as the wealth of the expansion of trade accumulated, the bourgeoisie class will for the first time be on the rise. This stratagem will be the one most exposed to western culture and value and most resented to the political oppressions the party imposed. It does not

demonstrators at will. The brutality of the crush down was repugnant, but the consequence of thrusting a country with almost a billion of population into anarchy does not look right either. The dissolution of the Communist Party would cause severe regional conflicts and even civil war, which may drastically alter the political configuration in East Asia. The history of China is always a history of either regional unity or regional conflict. Nothing like church and king system in Europe existed in China that could check and balance different powers. In Islamic world, god is Caesar; in China, Caesar is god. So if the central power loses its legitimacy, multiple regional powers will fight toothandnail to restore the topdown central system. Moreover, Chinese culture is a culture of Confucianism Mikhail Gorbachev flinched which promotes the abdication of personal when facing the sheer liberty and rights for the scale of political chain wellbeing of the general, reactions that spun out of which stands for the well his control; China, on the being of King, Emperor, or other hand, had no any ruling family. Regional problem sending tanks to the Tiananmen Square and cooperation was unheard of. You were either shooting down mean, though, that bourgeoisie will be the backbone of the potential social reform, the western idea of democracy and equality will be mostly disseminated by people from this class and received by the same group with enthusiasm. Since the working class people were too poor to mind anything other than their mere survivals and elite class people stood to lose from the dissolution of the existing political structure, it is the newlysprung middle class that is likely to speak out the injustice. Just like vehement student demonstrations in Warsaw or Prague during the 1960s, the student demonstration in Tiananmen Square was also a testimony to the role of the middle class. Only the welloff young people would have the nerve and the energy to stand up against the authority.

nothing, or everything. So if the ruling ideology were to be relinquished, there would be a huge ideological vacuum left. If we are not the proletariats of the Great Communist China, who are we? The identity issues created by the turbulence of the ruling state would spread across the nation, resulting in the instability which would, if accompanied by the loss of economic growth from the structural transition of Chinese economy, completely destroy everything China had ever accomplished. Soviet Union saw with gaping mouth its satelliteÂstates secede one by one, from Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia to Baltic States. China, if it ever experienced the transition witnessed in Russia, would stand to lose a large amount of its territory. Tibet would claim itself independent, and so would the relationship between the majority Han and the minority ethnic deteriorates. Just like the bloody war fought in the Balkan, war could have swept across Chinese land, with astonishing brutality. If the shift in ideological

structure is the lighted match, the potential economic slump will be the haystack that catches fire. Although China has started adopting from 1980s capitalism, it expanded the role of the private sector and inviting global competitions. The government still has a huge influence on the economy. Chinese government has always and will always retain direct control on some of industries it considers strategically vital, which include energy, finance, defense, telecommunications and railways. The government in China exercises expansionist fiscal policy in order to maintain 8% GDP growth which can allow more people to get employed. Although this New Deal type of policy ultimately can only result in higher inflation rate, it still provides job opportunities for unskilled workers and inexperienced college graduates. If the large public sector is to be removed, and China transformed into a real market economy, the unemployment rate will skyrocket, creating a sense of insecurity fueled by

inadequate provision of welfare benefits. The poor would see their hardÂ earned jobs be swept away by the kaleidoscopic transformation of economic structure that they could in no way understand. What they could understand would be that they would even not afford to live in shacks. Capitalism always had the tendency of creating winners and losers. The famous French historian Alexis de Tocqueville envisioned that democracy would lead to capitalism by rendering the temptation of quick fortune inevitable. Capitalism would then create the distinct working class and the elite class. The working class, by devoting every second of their lives into mundane works like making pin heads, would in the end lose their foresight necessary for rational thinking which should have been the embodiment of the democratic idea. Tocquevilleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s statement was in some respect exaggerated but it did coincide with the trend of the social development. The poor working class people were always susceptible to radical

propaganda. History had given more than enough examples from the rise of Nazi Germany to the rise of Bolshevism. In both cases their countries were subjected to internal strifes. China during the Cultural Revolution had experienced great losses both in intellectual integrity and culture heritage. If similar turmoil is to happen again, China will be sure to lose all its cultural roots it has been proud of. The way forward for China will not be through mobilization of the mass public. On the contrary, it will and should be through the strengthening of the middleÂclass by providing universal welfare benefits. This will also become the first step if China is to further its simulation towards the capitalism. I

have said that capitalism is about risk and risk creates winners and losers. The only way to nip the social discontent in the bud is to make sure that losers wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t lose any thing, by guaranteeing that they are able to try again. To reduce the inequality in the society, progressive taxation will have to be implemented so that the rich can shoulder more burdens than the poor. What is currently hindering this process is the prevalence of corruption in government offices in which bureaucrats receive illegitimate money gifts in exchange for helping people bypassing the law. This can only be corrected by a stronger and more encompassing common law, which curtails the power of individual bureaucrats and render

the whole money gift scheme pointless. To achieve this requires smart maneuvering of political power, for a quick transition to democracy by slicing the power of individual elites that will create a power vacuum resulting in anarchy and social turmoil. By maintaining existing political system, however, it will be hard to effectively stamp out the act of corruption, for the power is more centered on people rather than law. What we can now be sure is that the path towards greater political freedom will be the one that demands welfare reforms and the strengthening of the middleÂclass, not the one that requires the overthrowing of the state itself.

Red Dawn Cry not for me, when I discard my shroud, Make no epitaph, for timeless is my soul, Just scatter my ashes, on hills and seas, For I atone, for all humankind. Cedars and pines whisper, About the audacity called humans, Friend I was to them, but of late, Their silence says it all, Earlier their leaves brushed against My face, For friends I was to Nature, Sentinels of timeless rise and fall, Of empires big and crowns dethroned.

Hence let my shroud, be my human swansong, Of selfish gains and coffers filled, Most obsessive species Lord made, Hope they forgive, give me a chance, To grow into a flower, nurtured by my cold flesh, A little debt shall be paid, To the savage harvest, Bled by the superior species. Sharique Jamal (India)

Black Poltergeists Fahmid Hassan Prohor (Dhaka,Bangladesh)

It was 2014 when the weather changed between humid and hot, during the summer time. Four friends, Khalid, Shurjo, Zubeen and Faaroq were drinking juice at the near Café and they agreed to go to their hometowns. Suddenly, Khalid came out with the idea of inviting them to his hometown. They thought that his place was haunted but Khalid denied it. After their argument, everyone packed his bag with tension and fear. They came out of their apartments and saw an auto

rickshaw stood in front of them. As Khalid took them to the auto rickshaw, they were expecting something fearful. As the sun was about to set, suddenly, the auto rickshaw stopped. “What happened?” asked Khalid. “Sir, I have seen something,” said the auto rickshaw driver. “What have you seen?” asked Shurjo. “There are four black shadows with red eyes." Said the auto rickshaw driver. When Khalid came out of the

rickshaw, he saw nothing. But when he looked back, he saw the red eyes with a transparent black body. It was a shadow. Khalid ran off to the rickshaw, he told the auto rickshaw driver to drive fast. As fast as the rickshaw was driving, the black shadows were chasing. They recited the verses to prevent the supernatural element powers by closing their eyes. When they opened their eyes, they saw that they

reached Khalid’s hometown where it was surrounded by huts and lights. The rickshaw driver sighed with relief. When Khalid came out of the rickshaw along with the three others, a man came near them. “Uncle!” said Khalid. “What happened, my boy?” asked the man. Then Khalid and the other three explained the story. “You shouldn’t have gone to the shortcut. Do you know what really happened there?” said the man. “No” said the four guys at once. “So, rest and wait until morning” said the man.

The man welcomed them to his little hut which was big inside. Meanwhile, the Rickshaw driver was doing his home chores. Then he asked permission if he would go to the toilet. As he went to the toilet, he saw three black shadows with red eyes. The rickshaw driver was scared to death. The shadows laughed. He ran towards the bamboo forest. The shadows went after him and flinched him to death. His body was cut as he bled in the forest. His wife found his body, she took him to the shower. It was almost dawn, Khalid woke up and saw the four white clothed people whose

eyes were transformed from red to the white light. He heard a sound, he looked back, but when he looked at the window, he saw the white clothed men vanishing into the woods. The sun rose from the east, four came out of the hut and saw the group of people gathering. The four were asking themselves what really was going on. When they came near the dead body covered with white cloth along with the woman who was crying it was the autorickshaw driver. At night, when Khalid asked his uncle about the black shadows, he first avoided it, but as he told about a plan, he revealed:

“Ten years ago, there was a man named Fahiuddin an innocent but retarded person. No one gave him any importance due to his mental instability. He fell in love with a girl named Singara who never liked him. Her beauty led him to be kind and gentle. Until one day, he went to Singara’s house to give her some of the flowers. But his fiancé, Sharif quickly came and harassed her. When Fahiuddin was trying to save her, the villagers came with the torches. Sharif blamed Fahiuddin for the harassment that the villagers burnt him alive. Singara also died after the sexual harassment. As their spirit could not harm Sharif, they sent djinns to kill most of them who were injured”. Khalid was surprised. He told his uncle that he had a priest to set their souls free. As Khalid’s uncle permitted him, Khalid called him over phone about it. At night, the priest came to the village. The priest told them to go to the field beside the graveyard. They went accordingly. The priest did the wudu, a ritual; (cleaning faces, hands and rest of the body that is to hold a Holy Book) he held and recited the verses. The black shadows ran away but were captured by the priest into the bottle then he threw it in the river. The light came out and spirits flew up to the sky. The villagers were happy and celebrated that the djinns were no longer harassed. They went to the mosque and prayed that the future of the village should be better in terms of supernatural powers. Khalid and his friends returned to their home and found out that everything became more stable and safe.

Safe Haven Shahid Khan (India) Run, run, run as the sea level is rising, And the ice caps are melting at a faster rate Soon small islands would disappear As greenhouse gases continue to accumulate. Find some place like a mountain range But that too is the captive of climatic change Even cities are fuming excessive gas Leaving environment in utter mess. Run to the forest for fresh air Only to find greenery is rare Barren land with no plants or trees As if our earth suffered from strange disease. There is no haven as good as the earth Before it’s too late, realize its worth Pause, think and contribute Do your bit, don’t stay just mute. There is no time left to hesitate As our nonchalance could seal our fate Ignorance is now, no excuse Time bomb is ticking, let’s defuse.

The Savage Harvest Sharique Jamal (India) So much has been written and so much said but unfortunately, the clock is ticking. If we pan our outlook, its carbon footprints, Kyoto Protocol and all sorts of cookies doled out by the developed nations. And the smaller nations are content in their list of Climate control by small acts as recycling, rainwater harvesting and so forth. But when we pan out the focus, we are in reality, taking three steps and slipping two,

if not three!! For the balance of Nature, which had held each and every thing in control, by self rectification, is broken and unfortunately irreversible. In the timeless scale of evolution, human species have just existed for a second but done more damage than any other entity. We have mutilated, plundered, raped, chopped and literally made Earth as our God forsaken right! We tamed and caged animals, which catered to our whims,

the wild ones' we robbed them of their habitat, we designed in brutal callousness, things which would look good in our rooms! Bonsai we made of giant trees, crossed animals for sport, hunting or satiating our palates. In our mindless, selfish and obsessive motive, we scarce realize that we are digging our own graves and ironically patting ourselves for making Earth a "better place"! We fain realize that we are pygmies and ruled by our ego, which makes us feel

God player, while God just shakes his Head at our ignorance. Even the tall trees, whose limbs we chop off, and who have been sentinel to timeless rise and fall of powers and events, we never bother that they too are living things, but their silent screams we are deaf to, as in all cases. Tribal like Masai Mara, know how to live in sync with Nature and animals but even that, we have hunted for our pleasure.

The end is inevitable, unless a miracle happens, for the Titanic we have built, does not need a glacier to rip it apary the curse of all things that were before us and are now a taxidermist delight, is enough to make us meet our nemesis soon. We can't stop the damage done, but our "superior species" tag, shall have the epitaph."No one needs a Mink coat more, than a Mink".

On Window Pane Basilia (India) Rain, drops its little pearls on window pane While my fingers dance on keys, black and white Trying to recall a tune from the memory lane Sings my piano, taking my thoughts to flight. Those raindrops adhere to the glass Unnoticed I remain rejoicing the weather. The day seems to be perfect with no flaws A gush of wind, drops onto piano a feather. Smooth feather obstructs the joyous dance Eyelids mourn as they open, on separation in agony Slows down the jump and hop at a glance Of little drops draining in harmony. Creeping down the pane, like tears from eyes They wash away the dust, one by one The glass turns foggy as every drop dies No traces of their existence with the arrival of the sun.

Environment Bhavuk Mathur (Jaipur, India) Scenario 1 – A woodcutter dedicatedly chopping down a forest. When exhausted, he searches for a place to relax. He looks everywhere in vain. Finally he spots a tree he somehow left uncut and thanked God. Then he saw his axe and felt ashamed of himself. Scenario 2 – A boy unable to find a place to disposeoff his snacks’ packet outside a theatre finally decides to throw it in a corner. A second person faces the same dilemma, but is appealed by a packet in the corner. Soon, the place has a heap of garbage. Scenario 3 – Mr. Neighbour preferred an electric geyser over a solar one as it was few hundred rupees cheaper. Till today, he’s paying a thousand rupees extra per year on his electricity bill. The world around us unfortunately is full of such scenarios. (This is) The world, whose degradation would mean digging our own grave. This world is perhaps the only known planet endowed with an environment and it has to be passed on to our future generation as their legacy. However, it is our negligence which is making it unfit and therefore, there is a need of rise of consciousness about the need for environmental protection and ecological preservation. It’s known to everyone that the quality of land, air and water is getting contaminated continuously. China, for example, lost more than 14.5 million ha of arable land between 1979 and 1995 (ICIMOD, 2008). It is estimated that one in three people over the entire globe are already facing water shortages, almost onefifth of the world’s population lives in areas of physical water scarcity. Globally, some 20% of irrigated land (450,000 km2) is salt affected, with 2,500–5,000 km2 of lost production every year as a result of salinity (UNEP, 2008).

Aquaculture, freshwater and marine fisheries supply about 10% of world human calorie intake – but this is likely to decline or at best stabilize in the future, and might have already reached the maximum. While the world is making “development” its watchword for progress, it is neglecting the need of maintenance of the greenquotient simultaneously. A small step is taken every year to remind the people about this necessity by celebrating the “World Environment Day”. The theme of 2014, Raise Your voice, not the sea level' retold the world that our small, but sufficient steps can help in the resilience of the environment. A small contribution in repetition can create a large impact on all the major threats like ozone diminution, global warming which leads to polar caps melting, and depletion of natural resources. The issue is that we tend to ignore this as natural degradation doesn’t bring a “Sudden” calamity. But those which occur are directly or indirectly related to the ecological balance at that point of time. As goes the theme, we just need to mend ourselves and our activities which are as simple as closing taps when not in use, minimal use of polythene bags, use of recycled goods, shunning all nonecofriendly products, and many more. The steps are known to you, the mandate is to give attention and respect to Mother Nature as it is the only place, where our lives thrive.

The Great Dying

Charles Darnell (San Antonio, Texas) Before time was counted, Millions upon millions Before the continents divorced, Of years passed, The first oceans lost Our nescient world was Most sea足loving life strained, And the land was Too young to cope Scared by death. With changes.

The Great Dying, An imbalance of gases Toxic to most animals And plants, Crushed life except For a resourceful few.

These fortunate ancestors Adapted to the new And passed on To us the tools Of survival And we grew successful And dominate the land.

Our ancient ancestors Look through The long mists of epochs And wonder if we Shall at last use The tools they left for us.

Yet our success Now threatens us. We pollute our world With gases of our Own making. The climate changes Before our eyes.

We must be determined To harness the sun, An energy clean Of deadly gas, Our brains have conceived its use It is our will that is Questioned.

The Tree Hugger Arie (India)

Here, these are the same hands that played swing with me. You know not how small and tender your hands were, now rough and worked up. These are the same legs that climbed up my shoulders and played pirate. You never realized you were so light and a fun to carry, but now you're all grown up and into a powerful man. The same head that once used to recline at my feet receiving all my love and affection now had grown big too, but has lost the innocence it was embedded with, as a child; the listless hours your head spent with me; the careless little brain you had had. This is the same man—you—who I was

seeing for the last 31 years grow. Until 4 years old, you never came out of your home. I had occasionally seen you on your mother’s bosom, when she carried you out to the freshness of the outside and handfeed you, calling out to birds—mostly crows—who never responded to her calls. I disliked this aspect of the crows, though my friends too—I don’t know how they perceived me, but I did, always. Your mother would stand next to me and I wanted to embrace the child that's you! But she wouldn’t even consider my presence, only she needed me standing there so that she could be safe!

I have even seen your father grow. Your grandpa built this house before mine did, this—turn and look at it. This same house, he built some 50 years ago—my memory fails me; my senility took back my ability to remember, I think. Your father was some 5 years old when they moved in here. He adorned me. He used to play with me all the time. Back then, there was not much technological advancement. Unlike kids these days, they actually came out in groups and roamed everywhere; played all the time in mud; did everything physically; and used their brains!

I was so happy then. Your father, along with some 15 kids—who're all fathers now, most of who had moved to some distant place—used to come and play with me. I so wished time to freeze when their innocent shrieks and laughs would enter my ears. Your father who is now no more appreciated my presence with a gentle touch. He would kiss me at times. My loneliness just would disappear.I’ve seen everything, my dear boy. Your unacknowledged cars, cell phones, computers and such were once a wonder! I saw them all. I know them all. I’ve seen the population increase. I’ve seen settlers, I’ve seen plunderers, I’ve seen priests, I’ve seen numerous village heads, I’ve seen all. There is no one who knows this village better than me. I’m now

worn out and tired. I also know that I would not die soon. All my life, I’ve been of help to everyone. But this is going to be my end. The end of my longrustic breath! Though accustomed to walking on mud with bare feet, you decided that a tarpaulin is all you needed now! Fine, son, fine. I’m hapless, and all I can do is to shudder with fright—which, to those human erroneousness, may look like I sway! Perhaps, they take it as my accordance? Perhaps, I should stop this shudder.

pathetic? Oh you too belong to the blatant Homo Sapiens! I cannot call you “my friend.” But then, it is my flair to consider everyone my friend. I never complained nor disturbed. I never stopped giving. I received so little from you. I gave you everything I can, all my life. You are such a selfish creature. You, if not remain grateful, would, at least, be not a hazard to me. But you are! Shame on you! Shame on you! Oh here you raise your axe! Live long, my child.

But then, this wind, this best friend of mine who takes away my worries, gives me fresh breath, because of his nature, keeps me swaying. Why is my situation, my friend, so 58

The Environment Sehnsucht Purnima (Bangladesh) The environment is such a lovely thing, so natural, picturesque and queer... you can mix a bunch of moldy bacteria together and voila you are drinking beer, perhaps some fermented grapes instead may do the trick for you but just remember drinking them can lead to rash decision from you余 If drinking does not do the trick there are alternative natural highs, a few puffs here a few puffs there And you will appreciate the greenery everywhere 59

And on the way if hunger should call, go out and try a few mushrooms, I guarantee witches are not the only creatures who can fly on a broom...... A few sips of peyote and you may chill out with the dead, but pop too much poppy and you will be the one chilled dead instead... So please keep the environment safe and fresh for future years, for what will future generations understand of any such allusions from Coleridge to Jim Morrisonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s masculine tears? 60

Save The Planet…..Save The Earth Praveen Gola (Delhi, India) Hey Kids! Come this Way Where We are celebrating Our “World Environment Day”. Look at the park Where the trees’ barks are utilized frequently, as diminishing mark of this century . Come to the Malls, where the waste is dumped near Halls, to make our cities A hawker’s stalls. Birds…. they are diminishing, Due to felling of trees, And loss of habitat. Now coming to the Earth, A planet whose worth…. is declining due to, tremendous pressure of too many births. Our Wild Life Santuaries Are losing their identity, The “King Of Jungle” is dying due to man’s brashness. The “House Sparrow” too declared, as the “State Bird Of Delhi”, as they are too extincting, to serve the people belly. A huge amount of food waste, is too increasing in society and a large number of poor people are dying due to starvation policy.

So come this way As we are giving the tips, to generate new ideas in a tray, To celebrate our “World Environment Day”. Go Green in meetings, Use projections to display e agenda, Save Paper as it can be recycled to write “Memoranda”. Bore Well is being used for irrigation in the Compound, Save Water as it can quench the thirst of thousands. Solar lights have been installed, which are best suited for Environment, Save Electricity to Save the Pressure of Planet. Use the technique of Xeriscaping, which is an EcoFriendly Way Save Water to beautify your Garden in a new Way. Replace the Diesel maintenance Vehicles into CNG Vehicles Save Petrol To meet our Ecological Goals. A key role in our battle against climate change, are the Forests that covered onethird of the Earth’s Land Mass, Save the Forests that release Oxygen and store CO2 to retain us for long. This Planet is Unique. In this World, So Save the Earth To Live for Future Worth.

Then And Now Dr. Sangeeta Ajay (India)

Sitting on the sea shore, seeing the imprints of footsteps of bygone times, Reminiscing the years of childhood, churning and milking the vivid thoughts, Running in the alleys and corridors as a child,(can) visualize the tiny steps running into the sea Little girl with two pigtails flying in crisp winds, loaded with a bucket, shovel and a spade Determined to build a dream castle……. Tiny hands digging up the sand , collecting shells and grass blades, Making a castle with repetitive efforts, The winding stairs rising high and challenging the sky, The courtyard studded with shells , putting the sky full of stars to shame, Crystal blue waters running deep, wind tussled hair set right in this mirror, Sitting on the beach, amused witnessing the struggle of the waters to raise my castle, The smile of victory finding its rightful place on my face, With leaps and bounds flew the time…….. Years ago, this was the place to quench my thirst for adventure, The efforts to relive those moments would be minimal, I thought!! As tiny hands had grown into large skillful assets, The ideas of a new home zooming through the sluice of brain, An impulse overtook and digging my hand into the sand…… I explored for my first handful, came along a strip of polythene….I discarded, I dug again at a distance, the efforts brought along a piece of rag too, Is it that my fingers had lost the golden touch in the sand or am I at a wrong place? Tirelessly I made a number of fruitless efforts, Discarding pieces of coconut shells and shells of peanuts, Saddened and defeated I decided to retreat……. To get rid of the remnants on my hands, Approaching the sea….. anticipating the blue waters, The sight gave me a fright, a black shadowed figure staring back at me, What had happened to the clear blue waters? Where had the clean sand disappeared? The nature is paying the price for the evolution of mankind……. The gushing repentance and rushing remedies blurring my vision, The sound of droplets falling into the waters bringing me back to reality, Droplets, I realize were the TEARS from my soul…… Merging into the sea in a maiden attempt to clear the waters again…….

Long Live Kolkata Ratan Bhattacharjee (India) From Garia to Dum Dum Kolkata is a spread of brown highrise Ganga looks crimson near Baghbazar during sunset and sunrise Winding highways raddled by the the geology of dirty shanties Men of dust, ugly horns of the public bus and drying panties Ancient cruelty, hurried footsteps and the touch of perennial rose Where the sun kisses the top of Victoria Memorial , a lover knows In the rainy season , the metalled roads allow boats to ply The rain drenched Millennium Park of Babughat, four lucky birds look sly The Oleander glimmer in the Cossipore Rani garden makes a class The amber throne under the moon looks like lips of a time of glass The great gash of summer pierced by monsoon blister in the dusk The fiesta of Eden, the dew drenched rose, like a vast kiss , the musk Metro runs fast like a fairy in the poem of Stevenson , the nursery rhyme The city of harmony,boasts of Howrah Bridge,the triumph of timeless time Dominique's 'city of joy' Rajiv's 'dead city'Mamata's'blue足city,a roopkatha The poor suburb,snail足paced tram,double decker bus 足Long live Kolkata. *Roopkatha means FAIRY TALE

A Tribute to all Photographers Ganesh Narayan (India) It is not often that the work of a photographer is applauded or appreciated. We take it for granted the pain and passion behind this art form which is not known to many. I am NOT a photographer because I know to call yourself one余 your pictures should speak more than your words. And my pictures are pretty dumb when compared to the many works of my friends who are photographers. This is a tribute to them. Tributes to all photographers who have made me look better in pictures than in person. Thank You! Pictures speak a thousand words in a silent language. Some entertain us. Some make us wonder. Some make us smile. Some inspire us. Some even

touch our hearts. But nevertheless they have some impact on us. Love them or hate them, you just can't ignore them. Like pieces of time frozen on a sheet of paper they take us to the past while in the present and make us ask ourselves "Is that me? Oh my, I've changed a lot!" That is exactly the reason why many of us love photographs than real people, because people may change for various reasons, but despite the change of seasons and assault of time, a photograph remains as it is. Unchanged in emotion. Unchanged in appearance. Unchanged in its perspective. The splash of a water drop, the smile of a child, the greenery of nature, the

growl of a tiger, the grandeur of a monument, the shimmering beauty of the moonlight sky, the rays of the morning sun, the anger of a protester, the fury of wildlife, the pose of a dancer, the strength of a wrestler, the pace of a sprinter, the normalcy of daily life. All this and more, the lens of a photographer never misses to shoot real life that surrounds us which we often miss to notice in a hurry to earn money. A salute to all photographers for framing this world in beautiful pictures. May your cameras keep clicking, May your photographs live beyond your ages, May there be more photographers. 66

This beautiful poem and attractive pages were sent to us by our U15Z poetess, Chitra Dheer. We are including these pages without making changes in them. Please don't forget to leave comments if you like this beautiful poem and attractive pages. Managing Editor

Why Do I Write? Quite often I have been asked why I write. Different people have different reasons for writing. Some write for the sake of writing. They write invoices, official letters, and sometimes even resignation letters. Others, the real writers, write for the love and passion for writing. They donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t write romantic love letters, but letters with loveÍž love for them and for the art of writing. I am proud to share such passion although it is not right to call myself a writer of the truest form. As for me writing is the simplest form of selfÂ

pleasure. I just put into words those thoughts that flood my mind during most parts of the day. It is so amazing to imagine how the English language with just twenty six letters can be used in multiple combinations and permutations to create meaningful words. And these words when used together in a sentence, like beads of a necklace create beautiful stories and phrases. Stories that entertain, amuse, enlighten and sometimes even inspire us to adopt a better way of living.

As for me, I write about anything that comes to my mind. Being a nature lover my thoughts usually rhyme like why the sky is blue, why the rainbow has a hue, why water is formless and colorless and such thoughts that normal people otherwise resign as useless and childish. Else I get into a war of words that demolish and destruct the goodwill of political parties. I love nailing the wretched political barbarians of this otherwise divine country with my words. That little defamation is all that I can do as a powerless citizen. Ganesh Narayan (India)

Landscapes By R. K. Verma

Adisory Board Of Reflection Chairman Mr. Brian E. Wrixon (Cananda) Poet/Author/Publisher/Business Consultant Brian Wrixon is a retired business executive who, after serving over 40 years in the financial services industry, now devotes his time to creative endeavors. In addition to writing and publishing his own poetry and prose works, he has been instrumental in assisting hundreds of young and emerging authors from around the world get published, either personally or as contributors to group anthologies. Brian is the founder of the almost 1,500 member international writers' group "Poets with Voices Strong". He is a member of the advisory boards of "Writing For Peace" in Colorado USA, and “Express Journal” in Moradabad (U.P.) India. He is also a member of the senior editorial board of Bharat College of Commerce and Science in Kulgaon Badlapur, India, and serves on the editorial board of The World Peace Mission in Kankerkhera, Meerut (U.P.) India. He likewise functions as an editor and reviewer for publisher Melinda Cochrane International. Brian has contributed to several journals, scholarly texts, anthologies and other publications around the globe. Members Ms. Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo (Philippines) is a Professional Feature Writer/Creative Writer/Journalist/Blogger. She is also a Published International Author and Poet. Her published books include "Seasons of Emotions" from UK and "Inner Reflections of the Muse" from USA. Elizabeth has also coauthored more than 40 international anthologies in the USA, UK, Canada, Africa and India. Mr. Charles Darnell lives (San Antonio, Texas, USA) He is past winner of the San Antonio Poetry Fair Prize and the Tempie Skerritt Hickman Award. He also won the "On Fire" poetry competition in Bangalore, India last May. He maintains a blog of his poetry, Speaking In Colors and posts his new work there regularly. Mr. Sharique Jamal (India) is also one of the Advisory Board Members of Reflection He is a well known published author, poet, reviewer and Sr. Director of a US org. Ms. Angie Blake (USA) a poetess, writer and novelist is also one of the Advisory Board Members of Reflection . Ms. Marilyn Reandino Cañete (Manila, Philippines) is one of the Advisory board members of Reflection. Academic Qualification: College graduate, BS ECET She is none related to professional writing but she did serve as a content contributor then later on managed to be the Associate Editor of our school magazine a long time ago; currently she is working as a Financial Advisor with one of the top Financial Services Company in the Philippines. Her passion is undeniably writing.

Editorial Board Of Reflection Managing Editor Ms. Iram Fatima ‘Ashi’is an Indian (living in Saudi Arabia) BA Honors in English and psychology, MA (English), Diploma in creative language and Diploma in basic computers. She is a writer, poetess, painter and artist by heart. Her articles, short stories and poems are published in Indian magazines, newspapers and internationally her work is published in Canada, US and in India. Editor Ms Vasanthi Papu, who hails from India is a poetess, writer and a teacher. She who holds the degrees M.A. M.Ed. M.Phil in English has been the resource person for various seminars organised by the Tamilnadu Educational board, India. She stepped into the teaching field in 1992 and since then is rendering her service to the society as a devoted teacher and presently manages her school as Headmistress (In charge). Associate Editors Dr.Ratan Bhattacharjee (India) The bilingual writer and academician who is at present the Chairperson of the Post Graduate Dept. of English, of Dum Dum Motijheel College, Kolkata and Guest Faculty of Rabindra Bharati University is the distinguished member of the International Advisory Board of International Theodore Dreiser Society, USA (http://www.dreisersociety.org/). He is the Founder Director of the newly inaugurated Dattani Archive and Research Association (DARA), Kolkata. He who edits the Journal VIEW, is a brilliant writer, poet and editor. He was formerly associated with the Indian Association of American Studies (IAAS) as a member of the Executive Body and now He has to his credit nearly five books on British, Indian and American literature and nearly 650 articles on social and literary issues.

Signature, Synthesis, Anthesis, Aatish, Wordsmiths in their verse, Survivor's guide to bedlam, Reflections on a blue planet, Muse India etc Print volumes Inspiration (2007, offset printers), Beyond the silver lining (2013, Sanbun Publishers, ISBN: 9789382393214) Featured poems & articles Pioneer India Ltd, Hindustan Times Ltd Awards won/nominated Rabindranath Tagore Awards for excellence in poetry Nomination 2012 & 2013, Azsacra Award nomination 2012, RaedLeaf Poetry award Nomination 2013

Dr. Ruchida Barman PhD, English (India) a dedicated teacher, poetess, writer, associate editor has twenty three years of dedicated teaching experience both at the school level and at the undergraduate level covering various aspects of teaching and of school administration. Fathima Al (Lebanon) She is BA in English as well as studying another major, Law. She is a lovely young poetess and writer.

Dr. Indra Babbellapati (India) M.Phil, PhD Professor and formerly Head, completed 20 years of teaching language to technical undergraduates at AUCE(A) Affaire de Coeur, publishamerica.com, Baltimore, 2010 Vignettes of the Sea, Monfakira.com, Kolkota, 2010 The Night of Nectar translation of Devarakonda Balagangadhar Tilak’s Amritam kurisina raatri, Sahitya Akademi, 2012 echo…Global Fraternity of Poets, 2013 many poems have been anthologized during the last three years in national and international publications.

Mr. Arnab Neogi (India) TCS Software engineer, Borges Key Account Manager, Poets' Corner Subeditor & Project coordinator, The Times of India Ltd Freelance columnist, Creative

Dr. Sahab Uddin (India) PhD in English is working as Associate Professor. He has published Research papers in the books having IBN numbers Ed. Captain Dr. A. Nawale,

Collaborations CoFounder & Managing Editor More than 2 dozen anthologies. Important ones among them are: Inklinks, Taj Mahal Review,

Dr. Bishwanathan Bite, Dr. Sheba Rakesh many others.

Guidelines For Submitting Your Manuscripts 1 You should have a proper pen name, pen name like girlie2000, lifeisadream, will not be accepted. If you use your real name, it will be highly appreciated. 2 You can send us stories, poems, essays, interviews, reportage, novel summaries etc. 3 Be original, plagiarism in any form is unbearable so it will be your responsibility to deal with, if someone claims or complains about your work the editor and the publisher will not be responsible for any of the published work. 4 It is necessary to provide your contact details with your manuscript. But if you like your contact details will be published under your work so that it will enable the readers to interact with you directly. 5 You can write in any genre but vulgarity, erotica, profanity is not allowed in any form. Besides propagating any religion, an ethnic group or terrorist group in your work is strictly prohibited. Our magazine is for general reading so the use of four letter words is not permitted. 6 It is advised that you must send your manuscript fully edited and grammatically checked. Our editors will not be able to edit or amend it so they have the right of rejecting your manuscript. 7 This is a free online magazine so we shall not pay any money for any of your published work. 8 Presently we are doing only six online and three printed issues in a year. 9 Our long term dream is to publish unpublished writers, please do your best to provide us with your best work. It may go to the printed version of our Magazine. 10 Our publisher MOPH is determined to publish the print versions of your novels too. If you have a novelist in you please send us the summary of your novel for publishing it in the online version of our magazine. If our editors and critics like your novel we will send it to our publishers for printing it free of cost. 11 By sending your manuscript to us you simply give us the right to publish it in our magazine. You continue to own the rights of your work in your name and Reflection does not make any claim or restriction on the ownership of your work.

Information To Be Provided With Your Manuscript

Please include the following information with every manuscript. If you are submitting as a word processor file, such as Microsoft Word, the best approach is to add points 1 & 2 to the top of the manuscript and the bio information to the end of the article. Please supply a separate file for the image captions or add them to the end of the article after your bio: 1) Your complete name, mailing address and telephone number, which will not be published without your approval. 2) Your eÂmail address, which will not be published or disclosed to anyone. 3) Supply captions for all images, illustrations or photographs you supply. 4) Supply a short biography of yourself in about 40 to 50 words, if you like weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll append it to the end of your work.

Important Some writers show their reluctance to provide their personal details. That is okay, you can still submit your work to the editor of the magazine. It will be editor's sole discretion to accept those entries or not. Besides such entries will only be entitled for the online issue of the magazine.

Your Reflection Congratulations to the team of Reflection for rolling out fantastic May 2014 issue. It feels good to see more and more writers from all over the globe contributing with each issue of Reflection. The quality of contents is excellent and layout,presentation have become more appealing. Keep it up!! Shahid Khan Thank you so much Shahid Khan for such a wonderful feedback. Congrats to you too on being part of its success. Reflection has attained such a massive progress in quality only with the spectacular contributions of our skilled writers and artists. Kudos to all those talented guys! Vasanthi Papu (Editor)

First of all congratulations to everyone on getting your creative works published through Reflection. May Issue is composed of beautiful poems and short stories and art. Heather Jephcott, madam your interview is very interesting and it depicts how beautiful person you are from inside and out. Nice too see you..Mr.Vikrant , you are back with a bang brotha.. I loved all the poems they are very beautiful. Ratan sir, I liked your short story Shahid bahiyya, Nice pencil sketches and poem too, Richa di..your why I write is inspiring.. I cannot mention everyone here but still you people were amazing! Kudos to the team for compiling such lovely issue on parenting. I missed being a part of it this time due to my hectic schedule Basilia Just read the issue. Congrats Ashi on bringing this amazing mag. Since this is parents issue, each piece is just splendid. Neelam Dadhwal

In The Name Of Love

Kumar Vikrant Seema, narrowly escaped, is now about to face the biggest menace of her life. Will she escape? Find it in the concluding part of this story.

August 15th, 01:15 AM Jafar saw that woman has come out of the shop and there was not a single soul outside the shop now but she. He fixed the cross wire of his guns telescope on her head and pulled the trigger. Suddenly his mobile phone vibrated. Damn it….. 01:15:20 AM Jack saw the woman going out of the shop, his eyes followed her for a while and he also stood up to leave. The convoy was about to proceed. He just came out of the shop, then he heard a strange sound. Swooooosh…….. He saw a bullet hit the shop wall and scratched down some loose plaster from it. “Lie down!” he shouted and he pulled out his 44 magnum revolver. He darted at slowly walking Seema jumped over her and pulled her down with him and fired three perfect shots in the direction of a firefly which was probably an indicator of a infrared scope. 01:15:22 AM The vibration of the phone has distracted him and he missed his target. He aimed again, but that devil Jack came out of the shop pulled down that woman with his and fired in his direction. He knew the game was over now and he was going to die. All the three bullets hit their targets first bullet smashed the barrel of his rifle and other two bullets ripped his arms, perhaps out of their armpits. He cried in pain, tried to get up, but his arms gave up and came down, tumbling from the mound of the debris. The devil hasn’t killed him, but he wounded him fatally. He collected all his strength and got up his arms were hanging loose. He saw there was a pickup truck coming from the other direction, he ducked down in the dark. The truck was his only

chance, he waited until the truck passed before him, he recollected all his strength again and moved his right arm and hold the iron chain hanging at the truck haul. He dragged with the truck for a while and then he jumped like a rubber puppet, and the next moment he was lying in the empty truck haul. The mission was failed and he was badly wounded. That devil of a man has failed him, failed him for the first time in his life and wounded him. That man was a pro, he wounded him deliberately, he would have killed him. The man was a real devil, he don’t need infrared to look through the darkness of night, he could shoot anything with his bare eyes through darkness. That man is a true menace, he must die. The truck was moving towards Will City and Jafar was pulling out his revolver to take over it. Who knows, the police or that devil may come after him trailing his blood smell. August 15th, 01:25 AM “Who the hell fired?” came the Dudha police check post in charge shouting, there were a few constables who followed him. He looked around and saw, Jack was standing there with a revolver in his hand and a woman was lying on the ground. “What the hell is going on here?”said the in charge looked at Jack suspiciously And that very time another bullet smashed a truck’s front screen with an ear deafening sounded. The in charge heard the sound and he ran towards the shelter of his police check post along with his allies. Jack gave a hand to Seema and helped her to get on her feet. She hadn’t come to her sense yet, she was surprised to see the agility of the man standing beside her. He was still alert and staring through the darkness. “Come with me,” said he, and moved towards his jeep.

Seema stood there standstill. Jack looked back at her perplexed. “There is a danger to your life here, please come with me, I’ll leave you at any safe place,” said Jack. “There is no safe place for me in this world, they are before me, they won’t rest until they kill me. There were two attempts on my life during the last twelve hours, I’m surprised how they missed me? I’ve never been afraid of death, I’ll kill that beast Ranjeet anyhow or die trying.” Retorted Seema. The police check post in charge came out of his hiding place and looked at the two people standing alone in the open area. He swept sweat drops from his forehead and pulled out his service revolver from its holster and targeted it towards Jack. “Jack, you have crossed your limits this time, you are firing in front of police and endangering innocent peoples’ lives, you are under arrest, I won’t spare you this time,” shouted the in charge looking sheepishly around. “Don’t worry Daga, whoever fired at us must have fled so far, send your men to check it out. And as far as your wish to arrest me, is concerned, please keep it away for a while, because I’m also a citizen of this country and has my right to protect myself from the gunslingers. Perhaps that is why government granted me this weapon license. But if someone files a complaint against me, I’ll come myself to you to prove my innocence.” Retorted Jack. Daga was about to say something, a highway patrol car came in with the screeching sound siren. The car stopped in front of them and subdivision Commanding Officer Of Police appeared from it. All the police constables and the check post in charge saluted him. “What’s going on Daga, what you are supposed to be doing with Mr. Jack?” CO asked from the check post in charge. Daga explained everything.

“What did you do to seek that gun man?” “Sir, I’m going myself after that man.” “Be sincere Daga, I won’t bear more foolishness, I want that gunman at any rate, got it?” “Yes sir!” said Daga and left with his men. CO turned towards jack and shook hand with him and said,”What was all this Jack sir?” “I don’t know, someone started shooting here, I fired in response.” CO thought for a moment and said, “I don’t believe Daga, I’ll personally look for that gunman. And he left. Jack looked around there was no sign of that girl, she has gone. Jack fished out his cell phone and called up Raut, his farm manager and started giving him instructions. August 15th, 01:35 AM Seema saw all the brawl and saw that the police in charge might also get her arrested along with that gun fighter Jack. She decided to leave at that very moment. She slipped off stealthily and started moving fast towards the taxi which was still waiting for her. She entered the taxi and told the driver to go to Raj Nagar. That man Jack is really a daredevil, he lives up to his name, the legendary warrior. She was surprised to see the way he forced her down the ground and shoot simultaneously. No one knew what happened to the assailant, whether he’s fled or killed. But one thing was sure that Jack took him by surprise and outwitted him. She checked her satchel, the gun was safe. August 15th, 02:00 AM The truck driver has realized that there was an injured man lying on the haul of his truck, but the man also had a gun in his hand, a very dangerous situation for him. The man was bleeding profusely, there was blood all over the haul.

“Ramu, we are in danger, there is a man lying in the haul with a gun“ he said to the cleaner. “Ustad (Master), let’s get rid of this truck. “You are right, let’s run this truck into Kali and jump off.” “Great, we’ll do it.” Soon the long bridge of river Kali was dimly visible. And the driver pushed the gas paddle to increase the speed of the truck. The driver took an iron rod and fixed it between the steering and the driver seat of the truck that the truck could run straight. Then he signaled his cleaner to jump off and they jumped from the truck simultaneously. They hit the concrete road and their bodies rolled on the road before they gained any sense. They saw the truck was running towards the river bank and after a few moments the truck broke the brick railing and went straight into the stream of the river. The driver was very sad to see the truck going straight in the river. But the insurance company will compensate and he will be able to buy another truck soon. “Phew, a narrow escape! Exclaimed the driver. “Ha ustaad bach gaye, “ (Yes, master we are safe now) said the cleaner. “Who said it to you?” A third voice echoed in the atmosphere and the man in the haul standing before them with a gun targeted towards them. “You idiots, tried to kill me, now it’s the time for you to die.” Jafar chewed his words. “Sorry sir, the truck was out of control, we ourselves jumped from the truck to save our lives,” blurted both of them in unison. “I believe you both, now stop a vehicle.” “Sure, sir, we’ll do it.” Jafar was feeling very week, the constant loss of blood making him dizzy. He sensed the danger when the driver increased the speed of the truck and he jumped off the haul before the driver and the cleaner of the truck. Now they were both trying to take a lift from the passing vehicles. None seem to care about the filthy looking driver

and cleaner. But suddenly a car stopped and Jafar ran towards it, he pulled open the rear door of the car and sat in it. “Who are you, what do you want?” said the elderly looking driver. “I’m injured, sir, please take me to a doctor,” said Jafar with a lot of effort and flashed the gun before the face of the car driver. The car driver understood and start moving slowly. The driver and the cleaner didn’t make any effort to enter the car. “Please move fast, I need medical care badly.” The driver pushed the gas paddle to increase the speed of the car. August 15th, 05:00 AM DIG Shahil Khan had a very little sleep at the night, and the little sleep he had was full of nightmares. He got up at the 04:00 AM, got through his daily routine had some tea. Went through all the information his allies collected on Seema all through the night, but there was nothing remarkable. There was no news about the whereabouts of Seema. She has vanished suddenly. He went through the news of Killing of a police officer in Devdurg, the shootout at Colonel Pass. He talked to the SSPs of both the districts, but they also had no answers to his questions. Will City police tried to trace that gunman, but without any success. He tried to put all these events together, but there wasn’t any possible connection between all these events. The flag hoisting ceremony on the parade ground was about to take place between 07:00 to 09:00 AM. All he could do was to tighten the security of the minister at the parade ground. He called up all his sub inspectors to follow him to the parade ground. August 15th, 05:30 AM Peter was not happy to see the early morning light

at Raj Nagar, he instructed Jagir to drive to his outer city den where he kept all the weapons he often use. They crossed airport boulevard and took the outer ring road towards the Lumira Colony, where his den was situated in an isolated alley. The den was actually a duplex which was leased in the name of his wife and he used to keep all his illegal weapons there. Jagir stopped the car in the porch of the den. “Want to drink something?” said he to Jagir. “I’m dead tired, I need something strong, very strong.” Said Jagir with a big yawn. “Gone crazy, we don’t have time to get booze over our heads, we need to work all the day. I know that crazy woman, she’ll not miss a single chance to kill the minister. I’m dead sure our reunion with that woman will be at this city, and I have to wipe her off before showing my face to the minister. So go ahead and make a strong coffee for both of us, you’ll find the coffee powder and dry milk in the upper cabinet of the kitchen.” Retorted Peter. “As you wish boss,” said Jagir with a little irritation. August 15th, 06:45 AM The booze has taken over Ranjeet’s head, but he couldn’t sleep at all but kept lying in the bed until his wife announced that it was time to get up.He cursed her silently and got up. Soon his wife served breakfast on the table for which he had no appetite. He sipped the hot coffee and tried Jafar’s number, which was obviously out of service area right now. He also tried peter number, but there was no answer from the other end. Then he called up Mukhiya his henchman to his residence to accompany him to the parade ground. He was supposed to on the parade ground at 07:30 to hoist the national flag at 07:40 AM. What the hell should I do? Why the hell should I

hoist the flag? I need a break, someone please give me a break. There is a killer outside looking for me. I haven’t touched a woman outside of my marriage since that fateful day. Oh, what the hell, where has all my killers gone? Why don’t the comfort me with the news of her death? Useless bloodsuckers! Why the hell didn’t I get her killed at Zoura? “What are you murmuring, is there a problem?” said his wife, looking at his face. “No, nothing, please leave me lone.” He barked at his wife. His wife looked at him with disgust and left the dining room. He looked at his wrist watch, time to leave. He came out and saw that Mukhiya and his men were waiting for him at the porch. Mukhiya, a tall and strong man, was looking at the private security of the minister. He was a man of great strength and was well versed with every weapon. His men were also ruthless killers. Ranjeet indicated him to get into his car and sit beside him. Mukhiya followed his order and suddenly a sub inspector came running towards the car and said,”Sir, I’m supposed to travel with you to the parade ground.” “Daroga ji, minister saab ki security aaj hum dekhenge, tum peeche peeche aao,”(We’ll look after the security of the minister today, you better come trailing us.) said Mukhiya. Sub inspector looked at the minister helplessly. The minister nodded in approval and he ran towards the police car to follow the convoy of the minister and his men. Soon they were on the roads of Raj Nagar. The heat outside was unbearable it might rain today. August 15th, 06:55 AM DIG Khan, took a quick tour of the parade ground. He ensured that all the snipers were at their place and alert. He briefed all the police units that

there may be some killers to attack on the minister. Make sure there should be no armed man inside the parade ground, no matter the man is with the minister or not. Take special care of any single woman comes near the parade ground. There should be no unknown face in or around the parade ground. “But there are several women members of ruling party who are participating in the program,” informed Deepak, the sub inspector at district headquarter. “Ugh, that is a big problem.” Said Khan and called up the IG. The IG was frustrated, he barked like a mad dog, “Look Khan, if anything happens to minister, I’ll take it personally and won’t let you go with it.” “I’ll make it sure that the minister reaches his hope safely,” said Khan and let the screen of his cell phone went blank. “Deepak, where are the female party workers? I want to have a word with them.” “Come with me, sir.” There were at least twenty female workers who were clad in pink cotton sarees. They were all gathered at the parade ground gate with flower garlands to welcome their leader. Khan looked at them carefully, they were all in their late twenties or earlier thirties. “Do you all know each other?” said Khan, looking at them with his piercing eyes. “Yes, we do,” said an elderly looking woman, but there was no confidence in her voice. Khan sensed there was no confidence in her eyes. “Won’t you mind if our female officers frisked you

them. And that very moment someone shouted outside that the minister’s car was approaching.

a little?” said Khan to her. “Not at all officer, we are ready to do anything for our leader.” Chirped the elderly lady. “Kamal, get it done immediately, the minister is about to come.” “Okay, sir.” Said Kamal and he waved all the female police officers and constables to come to him. Soon the female officers hoarded all the female workers to a close tent where they started frisking

“I’m not sure that the woman will dare to come here, if she comes here, we have enough force to take care of her.” “Okay, sir, by the way, if she comes and attack on the minister, what will you do? Arrest her or shoot her?” “I’m not sure that she’ll ever come near this parade ground, but if she dares, I’ll make it sure that get punished.”

August 15th, 07:25 AM Zoya and her crew were reporting live from the parade ground. She was reporting diligently, but her eyes were darting here and there in search of any suspicious person who might attack on the minister. She was describing the weather which was very hot and humid at this time. The sky was overcast and it was likely to be rain. She looked at the sky and went on reporting. Suddenly DIG Khan appeared from the parade ground and looked at the NEWS people, he almost knew everybody and he greeted them. Zoya rushed towards him with her crew. Soon both of them were face to face. Khan was preoccupied so he tried to wave her off, but her cameraman focused his camera on DIG. “Sir, I saw there is a lot of force all over this parade ground, there are some snipers who are deployed on the roofs the adjoining buildings. Is there any danger to minister’s life?” “Not at all, this is just a routine practice to avoid any miss happening.” “Can you kindly tell us something about Seema’s menace?” “What menace? You news people are really inventors of new terms.” “You are avoiding my question.” “Not at all, there is no menace.” “Don’t be so sure, sir, you know Seema has been released from the jail and she may attack again.”

“Means, you are going to shoot her at sight.” “Did I say so?” “I understand your notion, take care officer the TV media will be looking at you closely.” “I know, please excuse me now.” And that very moment the sound of a hooter announced that the minister has arrived. Zoya looked at the convoy of cars coming close to the main entrance of parade ground. And all of a sudden it started raining.

their triggers and they cursed themselves. Khan heard the commotion outside the security room, but the rain was hindering his view. The women were all over the minister who was standing under a big umbrella and was accepting their garlands. Khan felt uneasy, there was something wrong and all of a sudden a pink clad woman came running towards the main entrance. She had a big pistol in her hand, Khan looked at her through the heavy rain. And his hand moved towards his service pistol automatically.

August 15th, 07:30 AM Seema took her garland and rushed towards the main entrance. She has wrapped the garland all over the mouser. Devyani had informed her that there shall be some female party workers to welcome the minister, they always wear pink cotton saree and pink cotton blouse. She has already bought the dress at will city and there was no problem mingling with the pink clad party workers at the parade ground. But the police officer had put her really in a fix by ordering to frisk all the female workers. But the announcement of minister’s arrival ignited all the female workers and they all ran towards the main entrance of the parade ground to welcome their minister with their garlands. Suddenly the garland slipped from her hands and fell on the ground and the metal sound alerted the security guards. “What was that, stop.” Warned the security guard. She didn’t heed him, she tore the garland and

August 15th, 07:35 AM Seema came towards the main entrance running and she saw the women crowd around the minister. She made her way to the minister by pushing the women around him. Suddenly women saw a woman standing among them with a gun in her hand. All of them screamed and scattered and now Seema and Ranjeet were face to face and then Seema fired. First bullet smashed the face of the minister and other bullets bounced back from his bullet proof vest. The minister fell like a heavy tree and the blood from his face started changing the color of the rain's muddy water. Khan raised his gun, but a fleeing woman clashed with him and both of them fell entwined. He saw through the rain that the minister had fallen dead and the killer woman was standing there with a hope to see any sign of life in him. Mukhiya and his men saw the fall of the minister with a fear and they raised their weapons at her direction.

took the pistol in her hand unlocked it and ran towards the main entrance of the ground. The distance between the security room and the main entrance was 100 yards, she was running like a mad woman. The first gust of heavy rain damped her clothes and her hair. The security guard alerted all the police force and now there were several policemen running behind her. Some of them took their position on the damp ground and fired, but the rain jammed

All the policemen came running towards the main entrance and were mesmerized to see the minister’s fallen body. Some of them shouted,” Shoot her.” They came out of the shock and started firing in her direction. But all of a sudden a LPG gas tanker came crashing all the cars and police vehicles standing before the parade ground. All the bullets smashed on

the heavy metal body of the tanker. The tanker driver lost control and then smashed it in the main entrance of the ground. Khan was standing like a fool, his gun was hanging in his loose hand. The truck has hindered the entrance of the ground. It has smashed all the police vehicles, including his hightech vehicle. Zoya was mesmerized to see the pink clad Seema, she was a real beauty and the man lying dead has snatched all the happiness of her life. She saw the gas truck was leaking now and the people were running all over to escape from the gas. It was raining heavily when a white van came screeching it brakes. The side door of the van splits open and a boney hand dragged Seema into the van and the van was gone in a few seconds. Shahil Khan IG Jeevan Anand cussed and cursed Khan for his incompetency to save a state minister. He even used four letter words, he personally called up the chief minister and forced him to suspend Khan immediately and start a departmental inquiry against him. Khan immediately applied for the long leave and left the town immediately. Zoya Chief editor looked at the interview she filmed with DIG Khan, he frowned and abused her. “This is the interview you want me to telecast, it seems all your sympathy was with that murderer woman. I run this news channel to earn some money and you are ruining my relationship with the government and the chief minister.” “Sir, do I have any right to differentiate between the wrong and the right, do I have any right to show the truth to this country people?” Chief editor clenched his teeth and blurted, “The chief minister is my friend and I’ll not run a program against his dead minister and his government. Let me tell you a truth, there is not a single news channel which could run a program against the dead minister, we will not glorify her.”

“Are you a newsman or a government agent?” said Zoya. “What did you call me? A government agent. Okay, I’m a government agent and you are fired at the very moment. Don’t worry, I’ll make it sure that no news channel takes you in.” “Thank you, sir, I cannot be a pawn of a corrupt news channel, you don’t need to fire me, I’m resigning myself.” “Get out,” shouted the chief editor. She surrendered all the belongings of the channel, including her cell phone, laptop, tablet computer and office card. She came out of the channel building. It was still raining and there was rain water everywhere. Streets were inundated. She waited for a while and then came out in the rain and walked across the road to take shelter somewhere else. Seema Raut managed the escape of Seema from the parade ground. They changed the van with a sedan car after a few km. Seema was sitting silently and her clothes were still full of mud smudges and water was dripping out of them. “Did Mr. Jack send you to help me?” “Yes, he wanted to get you out of that mess.” “Please thank him for his kindness and now let me go.” “I can leave you wherever you want to go.” “Thank you, I don’t need your help anymore, I’ve committed a murder, I want to surrender.” “The police won’t spare you now, they must be looking for you to kill, the minister was a close friend of the chief minister. They’ll kill you in a fake encounter.” “They can’t kill me, I’m dead long ago. The corpse was just seeking the revenge, which I took today. Let me go now.” Raut looked at her expressionless face of the woman, shrugged and opened the car door. She went out of the car in the rain, she was walking like zombie. Rout waited until she disappeared in the thick rain.

Peter The news of the minister’s death eased Peter a little, but his mentor was dead now. He’ll have to start it all again. He

wall. The wiper of his car was wiping rainwater from his front screen. He saw Seema was lying on the road and a burly man was stabbing her. He stopped his car and pulled out his gun and ran was sort of unemployed now. He was the one who towards Seema. was the hammer of the minister and he was “Hey ruffian, leave her alone.” Shouted Raut. looking after all the illegal operations of the But the man sitting beside Seema pulled out his minister Ranjeet. pistol and fired at Raut. Rout dodged the bullet He cursed himself for not killing that woman at and fired back. His bullet hit the burly man’s the culvert near Devdurg. broad chest and the man fell down near Seema “What are you thinking boss?” said Jagir. and started creeping towards a standing car. Raut “Nothing, just go on driving, we’ll have to seek let him go and looked at Seema, her lifeless eyes another mentor, that filthy woman has put a were open, but there was no life in them. Raut question mark on our lives too. If that Julfi come clenched his jaw and looked at the creeping man. to power, he will finish us off to control all the He went near him and aimed at his head and fired operation. Damn it, that woman has really ruined and the bullet blasted his head. Suddenly another us.” man came out of the standing car, he also had a Jagir heard all his cussing, he concentrated on the gun in his hand. inundated street. Suddenly he saw a woman Raut looked at him with his burning eyes. The walking in the rain, her pink clothes were man shuddered and his gun fell down from his drenched with water. She was walking like a dead hands. Raut spat rain water from his mouth and person. Jagir cleaned the car’s screen with a walked towards the dead body of Seema. newspaper and looked at the almost familiar face Jafar of the woman. Yes, she was the one they lost at The surgeon looked at the man lying on the bed. the culvert. He had to cut both his arms to save his life. The “Look boss, who is walking in the rain.” man has turned his face from him, perhaps he “Who? Okay, good work jagir, we got her, but was weeping. The elder man thanked the doctor unfortunately after losing our mentor.” Said Peter and left his private hospital to continue his and pulled out a bowie knife from his long shoe. journey. “I’ll cut her into small pieces.” Said Peter and Jack jumped out in the rain. Jack saw the fire flames which were sky high at Seema could hardly see anything through the this moment. The flames were consuming the rain, but she went on walking. Suddenly a burly remains of Seema body. There was no rain man became visible the man was walking towards at the Pike peak. Jack saw Duke neighed, her with a long knife in his hand. He was one of Raut patted him. it was time to go to her assailants. She closed her eyes, it was the protect the convoys from the invisible time to leave this world and meet her husband assailants. He glanced at the pyre last and her little son in another world, if there was time and went close to his horse, took his one anywhere. She felt a powerful hand wrapped reigns from his farm manager Raut and around her neck and a sharp knife opened her started walking through the labyrinths belly. She gulped some rainwater and fell down, of the River kali valley. Raut also her assailant also bent down and went on followed him on his horse. stabbing her. The lonely pyre was still burning. Raut moved a little ahead through the thick rain

Join Reflection Contact The Managing Editor @ reflection18@ymail.com

Dear Readers, Greetings to all! Any great accomplishment is eventually teamwork. We hold our heads high with the publication of each issue which is the outcome of the combined efforts of many talented persons. I usually run on a hectic schedule and at times make my team wait long to get my work done. They are kind enough to hold on with patience till I get back to them. It is this genuine understanding of Ashi and Vikrant that spurs me to commit myself in enhancing the status of Reflection and work towards its perfection. In fact it has been a challenging experience to edit the best creations that have been unfurled from the radiant minds of our beloved writers. My thanks are due in abundance to such writers who leave us stunning with their splendid works and I need to admit that every issue of Reflection sparkles with their brilliance. ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever.’ R.K.Verma’s art is no exception. As a cherry on the cake, his art adds beauty to the whole magazine. My special thanks to this great artist who adorns the pages of Reflection with his fabulous sketches. I would fail in my duty if I do not thank the readers whose massive support provides us the much needed zeal and zest to bring forth an impressive issue with an exceptional standard favored by all enthusiastic readers. Thank you. Regards, Vasanthi Papu (Editor)

MOPH