Reflection mag march 2015 by Reflection W&R Mag

Is Life

Contents Editorial 1 Together: A Medival Tale Of Love Brian Wrixon 2 Poems By Abhijit Narayan 3 Hash Tags Emotions Ruchi Chopra 7 I Just Wanted To Let You Know Shazia Shaik 8 Cajun Dreams Charles Darnell 9 The Familiar Stranger Sheerin Nazn 11 Constellations Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo 16 Duet Poets Jen Walls & Dr. Ram Sharma 17 Interview With Christena Williams 21 Poems By Ceri Naaz 33 Knuckles Laura Cameron 36 Books Are Our Cultural Heritage Praveen Gola 37 Lifeline Ceri Naaz 38 The Groaning Wind Heather Jephcott 39 Sunrise Heather Jephcott 40 Athens Kostis Palamas 41 Tanka Melissa Seth 42 My Culture My Heritage Ramesh Rai 43 Set Free Spring Pitts 44 In The Name Of Humanity Jaffar Safwan 45 Innocence Vs Revenge Dr. Ruchida Barman 46 A Lost Love Letter Iram Fatima 'Ashi' 47 The Case OfThe Missing Boy Biswadeep Gosh Hazra 49 Ruchi's Photography 59 Poems By Susan Beall Summer 65 Paintings By Raj Verma 69 Love Letters For You Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo 80 Feel Of Love Abhilasha Kaushik 81 Why Do I Write? 83 Under Fifteen Zone 87 Nourish Love Shahid Khan 88 Mr. Willow Jack Campbell 89 Te Amo Jnika Tuteja 91 Your Reflection 92 Second Chance At Love Aarati Salian 93 Book Reviews 94 II

Reflection Advisory Board Chairman

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)

Editorial Borad Editor In Chief

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

Vasanthi Papu (India) Research Editor & Magazine Coordinator

Dr. Priyanka mathur Research Director

Ruchi Chopra

Associate Editors

Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee (India)

Dr. Sahab Uddin (India)

Dr. Ruchida Barman (India)

Dr. Ram Sharma

Dr. Indira Babbellapati (India)

Mr. Arnab Neogi (India)

Ms Jonali Karmakar (India) Art Director

R. K. Verma

Page layout

Team Reflection

Associate Art Director

Piyush Kumar

Contact At足 reflection18@ymail.com III

Dear Readers, Greetings! Firstly I would like to wish happy belated Valentine’s Day to all lovable readers and creative people. As love is still in the air, we come with the topic ‘Love is life’ for our readers. Oscar Wilde says ‘Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead’. We too tried to absorb this love element in our issue. I am so jovial to see so many creations around the globe on this universal feeling of‘love’. We proudly share this with you in the form of poems, short stories, articles, interview and paintings. ‘Together A medieval tale oflove’ by Brian Wrixon (Canada), poems ofAbhijit Narayan (Indian stays in Germany), Love letters for you by Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo (Philippines), Interview of young poetess Christena Williams (Jamaican) award winning author, Knuckles by Laura Cameron (Ireland) for under fifteen zone Zain-ul-Adidin Khan Alizai (Pakistan), reasons ofwriting by few establish writers, art section by our R.K. Verma and many fascinating pages will bind all our readers with the gentle touch of love. A humble thank you to each intellectual Advisory members, associate Editors, Editor Ms Vasanthi Papu, Layout maker Mr. Vikrant and his team, our artists and readers for their cooperation and making this creative endeavor possible. With Love and Blessing, Iram Fatima ‘Ashi’

(Editor In Chief) Saudi Arabia (NRI)

Together A Medieval Tale ofLove Brian Wrixon (Canada) The sun dapples the green forest path Where walks alone the fair Lady Eliza In a faraway land with sword in hand Fights the knight dearly loved by his lady Though they are far apart, they are joined at the heart Together Sir Robert and the fair Lady Eliza On her breast be it told is a locket ofgold With an image ofthe love ofthe lady Round his neck he doth wear and fastened with care The red scarfofhis fair Lady Eliza Each night she does call from the high castle wall The name Robert, the love ofthis lady And in a far offland he does raise his hand And waves to his fair Lady Eliza A gentle breeze on her face as she stands in that place The wave from the love ofthe lady A muted sound to him comes, cross the miles flies his name Called out by the fair Lady Eliza Now strife is aside and peace rules the land and tide And the two lovers will soon be together But fallen on the battle floor, Sir Robert lives to fight no more Slain in battle the lady is told, his body now lies lifeless and cold In death they are now apart, she feels a sword in her heart She walks in a trance to the forest deep, takes a draught and settles to sleep The sun again dapples the forest path but the fair lady walks alone no more No longer apart but now still joined at the heart Together in death, Sir Robert and the fair Lady Eliza

Abhijit Narayan (Indian stays in Germany) Abhijit Narayan is a corporate lawyer. He studied law in the USA and practised in India before moving to Germany. He started writing while he was in school. He was pre-occupied with professional commitments until he moved to Europe. That is when he took to writing poetry seriously. He describes poetry in the following words:

'For long, I remained a stranger to poetry and for long, I remained a stranger to myself'.

Autumn For long she suffered in silence The treatment ofhis indifference. He had promised to be with her always Yet, was not around to save her from disgrace. The bright red bridal dress Like her once beautiful eyes, Had started to lose its shine. And her days, her days had become Darker and gloomier; Than even the nights On a late evening in autumn When dried leaves Had decorated streets She thought ofgiving up. The loud, deafening silence, Which had engulfed her life Was broken only, By a faint knock on the door.

It was a familiar voice The voice she so eagerly Wanted to hear; One last time. She stumbled As she walked towards him. He rushed to her And said, 'I am here, With you, for you. She couldn't cry, Her tears had long deserted her Leaving behind a dark trail Under those beautiful eyes. She wanted to fight She wanted to scream Yet, all she managed Was a little smile. As she rested her head On his chest With her eyes closed.

Come back, please It was raining when we met for the first time, Your voice was like the beautiful melody ofa wind chime. Your dark long wavy hair, the glint in your eyes Were reasons for me to have a thousand dreams. You talked less and laughed more And I fell in love like never before. Now, it's been over a year since you left me Dreams are shattered, my life destroyed for all to see Every night when the glorious moon lights up the sky I think ofyou and it is difficult not to cry. Please come back, we will make it better Or turn back the clock to when we were together

Wish you were here When a lonely, tired sun sets And goes far beyond our sight When the sky glitters with stars And the moon dazzles with its light When a child-like dawn tiptoes Across the vast garden ofnight I struggle to rein in my emotions Darkness offading hopes remains in daylight

I am still there Ifin the stillness ofnight, When the glorious moon Hides behind dark clouds, And a summer breeze Blows gently, You ever read What I write for you And my poems Touch your heart. Ifthinking about me Makes you sad, And your heart Is filled with pain As a silent tear falls From your beautiful eyes. Ifyou read and again read, Every letter I wrote to you, Every text I sent you, And endlessly wait For me to call you. Then know this, Though we are No longer together I am still there in your heart. Abhijit Narayan (Indian stays in Germany)

Hash tags #emotions# Ruchi Chopra (US, NRI)

Few panicked gazes Few moldy greetings Down the memory lane Haunts me day and night Ruminating in its prolonged misery Punishing my soul for this treachery Reveling in creepy banished reality Resting in velvety touch ofyour forgone memories Silence mocking me in its unceasing glory I still reminiscence your lively fragrance The same velvety touch my soul recollects When I had touched your speechless cold body Kissed you goodbye making it one timeless story While you were gone I got busier too Building lovely tapestry ofour reuniting embrace Classified #emotions# that freezes till eternity Brandishing my pains and trauma for your loss How could anyone understand my #madness# and shock? My heart, my soul gave away inches and inches ofdomination Loosing my grip on #sanity# Seeking comfort in ions ofhibernated #emotions# In my madness personified and exemplified Your shady memories are my good luck charms What everyone calls as one #madness# game? Lost souls justified my #Emotions# #madness# I never wished for your #separation# #forever# Your memories will stay safe and sane in my #mad# frenzy.

I just wanted to let you know Shaziya Shaik (India)

Far away by miles you are... Yet I feel you I now know distance is just a word Let me embrace every thought ofyou I understand how things can go beyond control now You became every second ofmy day I tried but cannot avoid thinking ofyou Submerged in your thoughts I fly to sky I’m not so strong to resist this change in me Locked up I’m... don’t search for a key Ifthis is what you call madness... I’m mad. I agree My heart is averse my conscious when I warn it It takes me back to the place where I see you I just wanted to let you know...I’m thinking ofyou

Cajun Dreams Charles Darnell (USA) My heritage is Acadian or "Cajun". These are people ofFrench descent who originally settled down in what is today Nova Scotia in Canada. At that time it was known as Acadia. They were expelled by the British in the mid-1700's during one ofthe many wars between Britain and France. The majority ofthese refugees eventually migrated to Louisiana which was controlled by Spain at that time. The Spanish, needing settlers, gave land grants to these refugees who settled as farmers and ranchers in mainly south-central Louisiana. This area ofthe state is known as Acadiana.

I doze now on this bench swing on this high porch While the slow waters ofthe bayou that the Indians called the Teche Flow through and down to the Gulf. Its cadence was the same when my fathers Were welcomed by the Spanish. The English burned our farms and drove us out of Acadia. The Spanish feared them too, coming west, spreading Like a shadow when the sun sets. We joined Galvez to help the new Americans Drive them far to the north And away from this, our new land.

We made our homes here, Raised our children and our cattle,

Went to Mass here and built our towns.

Our French is still our own But only the old people speak it now. They speak it for the tourists on the square Or in front ofSt Martin ofTours Or at Evangelineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Oak, But that is just for show. Some day the last French words will be spoken Over some cafĂŠ au lait And crepes with powdered sugar. The last waltz will be sung at the last Fait Do-Do On some Saturday night. But I, when I dream, I will dream in French.

The Familiar Stranger Sheerin Nazn (India)

Amidst the chaos of life, we have had several encounters with people we don't know, people who are strangers. In trains, buses or at any random place, we meet people, sometimes we talk, sometimes just a few glances are shared and that's all. We never think about them again. But, have you ever met a "familiar stranger?"

him for ages. I hope this justifies my using the term "familiar stranger" for him. I know, your curiosity level must have increased a little by now. You must be anxious to know about him, about our encounter, and the intricate details about this "familiar stranger."

I know, this sounds contradictory. After all how can a stranger be familiar, right? If he/she is a stranger they can't be familiar and if he/she is familiar, they can't be called strangers! I can't say that I ever met him. We just shared glances and even that wasn't intentional. So the story begins here.

I can't say that I ever met him. We just shared glances and even that wasn't intentional. So the story begins here. My 1st semester exams had finished and after a brief holiday of three days, (three days? that sucks!), we were asked to return to However, these contradictions college for our second semester do not hold good in my case. I classes. After a month-long have met such a familiar torturous exam session, we were stranger. I say familiar because again made to attend those he never felt like a stranger to boring lectures and face our me. It seemed as if I had known obnoxious professors. (No

exaggerations, that's the hardcore reality). I know, you don't want to listen to a typical student's crap. (We all have been there and done that). Letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s come back to the story. So, my first encounter with him was on the first day of my second semester. I was waiting for my friend to pick me up as usual. I am a permanent passenger of her Scooty and we are infamous for our insane rides. (We sincerely believe in "why should boys have all the fun!" phrase). Traffic is usually at its peak during the mornings, so I had to wait a little longer for her. Unlike others, waiting does not annoy me. I can wait happily because whenever I have time, I get engrossed by my own thoughts. I observe people. I wonder what their story is because everyone and everything has a story. That's the perk of being a writer, you never get bored. We imagine, we weave stories out of ordinary people, and nothing escapes our eyes. (Sorry if I sound self-obsessed!). My friend was busy fighting the traffic. Meanwhile, I was busy finding a plot for my story and there I found "him". He

seemed to be someone new. I had never seen him before there. Yes, he was a stranger yet he seemed so familiar. There was something intriguing about his personality. He was sitting at a nearby grocery store. He was smiling and the curve of his lips highlighted the wrinkles on his face. His grey hair proved that age had done its magic on him. He must have been in his 70's. He was an old man, yet so lively and vibrant. A few of the school kids who were waiting for their school bus had gathered around him and he was busy talking to them. I was standing a few steps away from them. I was still lost when I heard the horn. It was my friend. "This traffic! I swear I will throw away my Scooty one day." She sounded irritated, but I was way too preoccupied to say anything to her.

"This traffic! I swear I will throw away my Scooty one day. " She sounded irritated, but I was way too preoccupied to say anything to her.

"Are you listening?" She complained. "Oh, yeah. Umm, I was just a little lost." I explained. "As usual. Lost in your imaginary world, Miss Writer".

We left our usual neverending arguments and sped towards the college. Our monotonous life had started with lectures, presentations, and assignments. Nothing had changed. Waiting on the stoppage, observing people, that old man being surrounded with school kids.

"I portray reality through my accustomed to each other's imaginations but ordinary people existence by then, we never like you won't understand." talked. I had this strong urge to talk to him but I am very bad at "I will get you later. We need starting conversations so I could to speed up now because getting never go up to him. late for the first lecture isn't something that we can afford." I remember, once while waiting for my friend at the We left our usual neverstoppage, it had started raining ending arguments and sped heavily. Before I could plan a towards the college. Our strategy, (that's how a monotonous life had started with management student talks. We lectures, presentations, and plan everything), he looked assignments. Nothing had towards me and said, "Beta, you changed. Waiting on the can come over here." His tone stoppage, observing people, that mild and soft, he pointed old man being surrounded with towards the shed of the grocery school kids. Everything was the shop. I found the gesture very same. By now I had learned that sweet. the man was the grocery-store ownerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s father. I could see that "Thank you, Uncle". I said the man tried to find solace with gratitude. among those kids. Old age had left him with little to do in his "You can wait here until your life and his son seemed too friend arrives," he said with a preoccupied with his work. Little smile. did he realize that he was ignoring his father at a time I was happily surprised that when the later needed him the all these days he had noticed me most. The old man's eyes had so too. My friend arrived just then much to say, but his lips were and before I could say anything, sealed once the children got in the man said with concern, the bus. Though we had grown "drive safe, beta. There is too

much water logging."

no stoppage, no shed and no Grocery Store Uncle. I did not My friend gave him a "who bother to think of him. Human are you" look. But I was deeply nature you know, we tend to touched again. I mean, who cares forget easily. After the long to advice a random youngster to refreshing vacation, when I went drive safe! to my stoppage, nothing had changed. The same people, same "Thank you for your advice, traffic, same noise, but there was Uncle. We will drive safe," I a strange kind of silence around replied like an obedient kid. me. It was suffocating. I went to the grocery shed in search of "Who is he?" My friend raised solace, but there was no Grocery an eyebrow. Store Uncle. "Well, he is the Grocery Store "May be he is busy." I thought Uncle". to myself. "Nice name," she taunted.

But, even after a few days there was no sign of him. I And I realized that my thought of asking his son. I felt a familiar stranger had finally been bit awkward doing so, but, I had named. Yes, he was my "Grocery to do it anyhow. Store Uncle". "Excuse me, where is uncle?" This became a routine now. I asked in a nervous tone. Whether it was raining or the sun tried to be a culprit or the chilling "Are you talking about my wind thought of being an enemy, father?" He questioned me. the Grocery Store Uncle and his shed came to my rescue. Though "Yes." we did not talk much, the silence we shared was profound. "He passed away few weeks ago," he answered reluctantly. Soon our summer vacation started and for a month there was

This became a routine now. Whether it was raining or the sun tried to be a culprit or the chilling wind thought of being an enemy, the Grocery Store Uncle and his shed came to my rescue

"I am so sorry," I said, my voice choking.

He is gone. My monotonous routine has not changed but there is something about that shed which makes me emotional. I miss him, my Grocery Store Uncle. Some bonds are beyond explanations. We just tend to get attached without any selfish reason.

I looked at the shed with teary eyes. I felt it was complaining that nobody was there to give him company during his last days. I felt guilty though I did not owe him anything. We did not even know each other's name, but we shared For some, it might just be a a bond; a bond of being familiar story. But for me itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a part of strangers. my life that I will never get back. Sheerin Naz (India)

Constellations

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo (Philippines) You were just a speck ofstardust in my sky Floating, lingering, a faded memory I can’t deny, The swirling galaxy in my head, my star from another universe. It’s been hundreds oflight years since joy dawned on me Didn’t notice you before as I’m too pre-occupied being captivated by Centaurus, You were just there, one ofthe lights in my own constellation but I was too blind to see. One day my life had a complete turn around By just staring at your serene face takes me to the Heavens, Like a light illuminating my path spreading good cheer Removing me from a dark hole ofoblivion. You’re like a Nebula which left my heart amazed And here I am standing right before my future, Andromeda is waiting for her Orion’s heart to awaken For them to share eternity in a lost world that is yet to be discovered. Your star and my star sometimes collide, But your beam keeps on striking me even from afar The fierce look in your eyes tells me something you can’t simply hide Yes, you are drawn to my radiant angelic glow. Destiny and space will let our souls meet time and again In a thousand reincarnations I have seen your many faces. There’s always something familiar about you anywhere we meet. My dreams would take me sometimes to a far away planet in the milky way Meteors and comets accompany me to the path leading again to you… You’re a beautiful mess ofneon hues circling my mind like the rings ofSaturn The son ofVenus Yes, it’s always been you in a trillion lifetimes, I have been following you My constellations will help me to tell you how precious you are, my Orion.

Duet Poems About The Duet Poets Dr. Ram Sharma is an accomplished poet and writer, who writes in English and Hindi; within his vibrant reach he uplifts many with his magnetic appeal in the field ofliterature. He is an inspiring and dedicated personality who has always been spiritually driven for utilizing his many gifts achieved within his studies, life work and travels. He was an exceptional student, who ranked highest in class from first up on his M. Phil. Dr. Sharma’s completed doctoral studies have contributed an intense focus on Post-Modernist Trends in Indian Novels in English: A Study ofAnita Desai, Arun Joshi, Amitav Ghosh and Vikram Seth. Jen Walls is a poet ofwide international appeal. She is a powerful voice in contemporary English poetry who is widely published and known worldwide for her poetic corpus. Jen reaches inside and brings love into a joyful heart’s radiance; pulsating deeper within such a personality ofrare positivity. Her words float into breaths, for singing expressively heart’s song, as only a passionate lover must. She delights in dedicating each word into a flow within its soulful resonance, bringing her caring touch upon the pen.

AWAKENING I want to dive deep into all music ofsilence. This outer world should become so dim. The business ofwords should also disappear. Only the pearl ofsilence shines with Divine Oneness. I want to sit here, hearing only this music ofsilence. Stinging woeful gales all the sorrows must leave so we can only come inside and openly laugh into all joy. Transforming through silence so resplendently clear and clean for blessing us all in blissful flows that blow onto peaceful breezes. Every heart has come here gathering in kisses; we must know love's truth is ever light-filling, divine heart's music so sings, an awakening.

NEWVITALITY Within song's longings, come into sweet air ofserenity. Floating far and vast come soar soul's wings. Inside a flight that brings each opening's unwrap. Lifting peaceful care ofjoy come touch sky's eternity. On soft welcoming cries an exalt shares all surrendering. Meeting happiness that lasts come melt now within joyful bliss. O! Divine life let's welcome a fertile world. O! Life so ever new -- and evergreen scattered, we gather now, honey through flowers. Awakening perennial eternal love amidst all life's breaths. We become eternal dreams ofpearls ofeyes that shine and gleam. We'll transform energies ofdead particles with a purely delicate and new vitality.

INFINITE BLAZING SUN i wish to try love want to accept you i wish to try all luckiest luck i want to drink only one cup ofpurest Divine wine i wish to forget all. Love is only our truthful song accepting calling breaths rise. Luckiest star shines on forever too; drinking nectars ofsweetest dew. Awaiting Divine's most sacred kiss remembering only God lives. Remembering God as truest love try to see, try to remember now remembering truth ofwho we are. Fly past canopies ofhidden stars climbing flaming ball ofwonderment bursting free in everything to be dancing cosmic ocean very far riding across wave ofwonderment blazing brilliant blessing's song. A million and one suns come firing so hot, so brightly does it matter how? Rise now, and be ONE Infinite Blazing Sun!

Christena Williams

Jamaican poet and award winning author Christena Williams talks to Reflection about her published works, including her debut book â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Pearls among Stonesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. Williams is the 2014 recipient ofthe Prime Minister's Youth Award in the Arts and Culture category, and has had her work featured in international publications. She is a History (major) student at the University ofthe West Indies.

Ashi: Greetings, Christena Williams! At the outset, on behalfof our team, I would like to thank you for becoming a member ofthe ‘Reflection’ family and for accepting my request to interview you.Tell us something about the place you belong to, your childhood, education and hobbies.

Greetings! I am from the beautiful island of Jamaica where the sun kisses the beaches magnificently. I hail from the ‘Sunshine city,’ Portmore. This country has produced talented people who’ve graced the earth with their talent and also corrupted ones who disgraced our land. All I can say is that I belong to a place of great and not so great. What makes us Jamaicans incredible is what our motto declares— “out of many one people.” I grew up in Portmore which is one of the largest communities in the Caribbean and also the most over populated in Jamaica. I was raised by a loving mother. My father abandoned us and my mother had to raise us on her own with the exception of God’s help. My father left her heart broken, straddled with four kids and with no means of survival. It was difficult in a country like Jamaica to survive with no money; nonetheless my three brothers made life worth living. They had to become industrious at an early age to help my mom while I was too young to understand. But I have some great memories of my childhood: I used to play football with limes, cricket, video games, and we had so much fun growing up despite our issues. I was always writing though I remember my mom always quarreling with me about marks on the wall and her curtains (chuckles); it is great to know now that something beautiful came out of it.

I am from the beautiful island of Jamaica where the sun kisses the beaches magnificently. I hail from the ‘Sunshine city,’ Portmore. This country has produced talented people who’ve graced the earth with their talent and also corrupted ones who disgraced our land. All I can say is that I belong to a place ofgreat and not so great. What makes us Jamaicans incredible is what our motto declares— “out ofmany one people.

I am very privileged to have received education at all the levels starting from basic, primary, High school and currently at the University. I attend one of the most prestigious universities in Jamaica and The Caribbean. I’m getting a History degree which also assists in my writings because history requires certain skills of analyzing, interpreting and writing well. It helps me to educate the people by fusing poetry and history. My hobbies include reading books; texting my friends; listening music; watching my favorite T.V Shows and sports channels; surfing the net; interacting on social media; hanging out with friends and reasoning on various matters with classmates and elders. Ashi: It is interesting to know about your life. Please share your writing experience - the age you started writing and what inspired you to pick up your pen?

I wrote poems on Bob Marley, Tracy Chapman, Nelson Mandela, Maya Angelou and Trayvon Martin. Even on that unfortunate incident involving Mario Deane in Jamaica. I write on issues pertaining to women and so on. Any event can inspire my writing.

My brother is the one who got me started. By the age of 10, I began to write songs. I think at that time music was something that got young people in the groove and it still does. But music was not working out for me, I did not know how to listen to a rhythm and write a song or how music was arranged. I still haven’t learnt to; probably one day I will revisit it. By the time I was fifteen my mom brought me a book, “The world of poetry.” It encouraged me to read more but it was not until I read Maya Angelou’s poetry, “still I rise,” that I began writing poetry of my own. It inspired me and then I began reading Louise Bennett, Langston Hughes, Emily Dickson and others. Musicians helped to stamp my love and passion such as Tupac, Bob Marley, and Tracy Chapman. All these events sparked my interest and even though I am a poet from birth, I just did not know it until poetry found me and from there on I have been spreading it with others. The reason why I write is that I felt pain and abandonment and I understand humankind in ways others do not. I have very keen eye in observing human behavior as well as nature and I have something to say and just hope my writing can be inspiring too. Ashi: Poetry is a medium to express one’s inner feelings. Is there any specific moment or event that made you write?

I write from the soul and it is my way of corresponding with the world— having a conversation with nature and creating scenery with words. I am deeply affected by injustice of any kind done on humanity. I wrote poems on Bob Marley, Tracy Chapman, Nelson Mandela, Maya Angelou and Trayvon Martin. Even on that unfortunate incident involving Mario Deane in Jamaica. I write on issues pertaining to women and so on. Any event can inspire my writing. I recall when I was robbed on Dec 20, 2011 and I wrote three poems that day about it and I have a lot to write about my experiences. I write about some stranger’s pain; that is the beauty of being a poet: going into someone’s world for a moment and writing what they feel.

As you can tell, I am not afraid; it has given me the freedom not only ofexpressing myselfbut also ofmind, which is one ofthe greatest accomplishments of being a human being. I write on social issues, as well as on personal issues oflove, pain, being fatherless, heartbroken, injustice.

Daron And I Ashi: Yes, writing is really a therapy ofsorts to emerge from all pains. What is your favorite topic to write on? And do you have a specific writing style?

To be a writer your life, emotions, thoughts and opinions will write itself in your work and it is up to you to keep it hidden or share it and face the critics. As you can tell, I am not afraid; it has given me the freedom not only of expressing myself but also of mind, which is one of the greatest accomplishments of being a human being. I write on social issues, as well as on personal issues of love, pain, being fatherless, heartbroken, injustice. I am a versatile writer; my style varies according to poetry from rap poetry, rhyme, free verse, classical, introspective, and radical. Guest columnist Glenville Ashby wrote about: â&#x20AC;&#x153;â&#x20AC;Ś sonnets, odes, acrostics, and other classical poetic styles, preferring to lean on a prosaic and narrative style, accompanied with a pulsating rhythmic brio. She uses dactylic metre with resounding impact and her line and beat are, for the most part, airtight.â&#x20AC;? 24

I love the late Maya Angelou. Her poetry is so real and makes me feel as ifshe knows me and is talking to me directly. It is something about her that draws me to her work.

Bob Marley Ashi: That is interesting to know, would you like to share something about your personal life with our readers to know you more closely?

Well, I am a 22 year old single girl. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not sure what my readers want to know more personal other than that! I am sweet and loving. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m a good listener. A realist, I love to inspire. I have a great smile and love a good laugh. I have great respect for others and myself and believe strongly in self-reliance. I am just a cool individual and hope to make a positive impact in the world in whatever way I can. Ashi: Who is your favorite writer/poet? That is a great question. I love the late Maya Angelou. Her poetry is so real and makes me feel as if she knows me and is talking to me directly. It is something about her that draws me to her work. I am a big fan ofTracy Chapman and I believe she is a poet on guitar. So is the late Bob Marley. The phenomenal Jamaican poet Louise Bennett, Langston Hughes, Emily Dickson, Tupac, Oku Onuora known as the founder of dub poetry and lastly poets soon to be known from Kolade freedom (Nigeria) Alan Jankowski (USA) Daron chosen Smith, Shanoye Norman, Kerione Bryan, Melsayda Murray (All Jamaicans). 25

Ashi: When was your first poem/story/novel published? Please share your feeling ofthat moment.

My writing was first published in the Jamaican newspaper Gleaner, in their arts and Education section on August 14, 2011. The title of my piece was â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Heart Surgeon.â&#x20AC;&#x2122; It was about love, heartbreak and triumph. Wow! That moment was unbelievable. I was very happy and so was my family and neighbors. It was a very humbling experience and little did I know it would be 30 poems in all for them and paving my way to be in international anthologies to publishing a book. Such an honor and great feeling and up to now I remember it as if it was yesterday and never forget my foundation and small achievement that will result in great achievements. Ashi: That is really great; tell us according to you, what are the most important elements ofgood writing?

In writing poetry or writing overall it should not be forced however be natural. There are some questions to consider such as Why do you write, what are the purpose of the writing and what is your audience and when you know why you are a writer you would know your style for me I am a morning writer. I write to inspire and be inspired also where you write will help for example I can write in area of nature; lots of trees and in my room and think about what inspires your writing is it music and so on. Let your poetry be true, let be a reflection of you or whatever you are writing on, know your weakness, work on it, and ask others for their opinions. Good writing requires practice and excellent use of grammar and elements of writings will do a lot in enhancing your piece. There is a lot about writing I myself I have not conquered as I am young and in no hurry it should be something to love and enjoy and be bless to be among great writers before and others who will come after you perfecting what others began. Some may say a bad grammar makes it bad writing I do not know because if you put your heart and soul on paper it should be congratulated just letting the writer know that next time get someone to edit it.

There is a lot about writing I myselfI have not conquered as I am young and in no hurry it should be something to love and enjoy and be bless to be among great writers before and others who will come after you perfecting what others began. Some may say a bad grammar makes it bad writing I do not know because ifyou put your heart and soul on paper it should be congratulated just letting the writer know that next time get someone to edit it.

Ashi: Did you always have full appreciation and support for your talent in writing?

Yes I always loved what I did and always used it any way I could like incorporating in school forum and being involved in competitions and clubs and being close to people who were like minded as me. My support system from my family is strong as well as my Friends who constantly encourage my writing. I am even encouraged more since I have received a national award and being interviewed by media in my country as well by you and others. I am so honored by the exposure as well as being an inspiration for other poets. 26

There is another poem such as “Remove The barriers” which was my first international publication which was shortlisted (Top 30) in a world competition for the anthology world healing, World peace 2012 by Inner child press, USA and Top 3 in India for radical global magazine in English and lastly This Poem loved by everyone, I drank poetry, featured In new Zealand issue 47 poetry NZ, Female first UK, Poem ofthe week gleaner, Jamaica.

Ashi: According to you, which poem ofyours is your masterpiece?

I really cannot tell you know as all my poems tell a story and They are so unique each has a part of me and for whatever issue or moment there is at least one that can depict it so it depends on my mood. I would however say that “out of many one people” which is Jamaica’s motto is a beautiful poem. It was shortlisted in Desmond O’Grady contest in Ireland and can be found on world poetry Canada site as well as is in the ministry of arts and culture in Jamaica catalogue. There is another poem such as “Remove The barriers” which was my first international publication which was shortlisted (Top 30) in a world competition for the anthology world healing, World peace 2012 by Inner child press, USA and Top 3 in India for radical global magazine in English and lastly This Poem loved by everyone, I drank poetry, featured In New Zealand issue 47 poetry NZ, Female first UK, Poem of the week gleaner, Jamaica. All these are in different competitions and Anthologies 27

Ashi: Please share any ofyour poems close to your heart. That would be an honor well

Afraid to love I am afraid to love as I have been broken too many times before Like the sun, I have lost its core Like the rain my tears pour I am afraid to love I fear to make a step offaith and walk through loveâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s door Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a linger ofa permanent soar. I am afraid to love as I have been broken too many times before I have had my wings patched up My eyes sowed in and my heart tranquilized with pain and regret I have been in this terrible nightmare like an induced coma That I am unable to be awaken from. I am too afraid to love To give love another shot A shot that might paralyze my soul and stop my heart Destroy my very existence Struck me dumb or mute with fear Fear to love and be loved I am afraid to love as I have been broken too many times before It hurts me right down to the core My heart pains me once more Like a fallen bird, I fail to soar Fail to find Paradise Island I am in the wilderness hoping to be rescued As I am afraid to love My Dear. All Rights Reserved. Christena AV Williams

Ashi: So beautiful and inspiring work. What is the best thing about being a poetess?

I wish to educate and inspire each human being also inspiring me. I am kind ofbias but to be honest it’s a great book with a lot ofemotion, soul , feelings, inspiration and radical approach it’s that good according to several critics and readers. They love that there is almost every poem for every situation.

Laughter’s well I can be a rebel you know and write down all my fears and emotions and be an advocator for others. Poetry is a natural expression for me and I guess I say things sometimes I cannot express any other way but through words, there are things that I write first on paper before it can be released through tears, smile and laughter. I feel no fear writing on paper sometimes. My writing is my first manifestation of emotions before I express through live actions. It is something amazing when someone can read your writes and they inbox you on facebook or walked up to you on the road and say Thank you or even they begin laughing uncontrollably you feel a sense of honor. You know you did something special you made their day and that is the joy I get. Ashi: Nice to know about this. Tell us something about your debut poetry book “Pearls among Stones”?

My poetry collection, “Pearls among Stones’ was first a poem which is in the book itself. This title was inspired by God through reading psalm 45 and the title came to me and when submitted my poems to the publisher, Canadian Brian Wrixon. He was the one who added an “S” To Pearls as it was pearl first so it was collaborative effort. What I hope my readers can take from my book is whichever way it speaks to them and that it may inspire a positive reaction transforming lives and country as well as a positive lifestyle. I wish to educate and inspire each human being also inspiring me. I am kind of bias but to be honest it’s a great book with a lot of emotion, soul , feelings, inspiration and radical approach it’s that good according to several critics and readers. They love that there is almost every poem for every situation. This book has ripened over time, fulfilling, and hope I can write many other books inspiring individuals. Ashi: Share your journey ofyoung and successful poetess. And tell us something about recipient ofthe Prime Minister's Youth Award 2014.

My journey into poetry has been a journey indeed with amazing blessings, doubts, pain, sadness, rejection then joy and happiness. I am overwhelmed with joy because the journey of poetry is the reflection of my life and family as well as my fellow countrymen. My mom told me of my birth that the doctors told her that she might have a miscarriage and that God told her before that she would have a daughter and that she would call her, Christena, as you know that’s my name and I survived. After this several agonizing things 29

occurred, my father left when I was one or two years of age and my mom with four children was left in poverty without any hope for survival. While there was sadness, God found a way to bless us that today my life and family’s life is a miracle and all my achievements I give to God and mother who did not give up. I have won the prestigious award, “The Prime Ministers national youth award in excellence for arts and culture”; I must say 'Thank God' for these blessings that I may be a blessing to others. My experience is so great I have been receiving interviews locally and internationally and being featured in magazines abroad and I continue to be publishing in anthologies. Every day is a joy for an adventure and so I know something is even greater in store for me these achievements are the building blocks for something greater. I feel honored that national awards of this caliber I have received, it means so much that my hard work and passion have not gone unnoticed by my country. I will use this award to open doors for others and I am just as honored as was an underground poet and to receive a national award it is amazing. I just say thanks to the office of the prime Minister, The office of the youth and culture, Judges, Gleaner and most importantly Brian Wrixon who gave me the opportunity and for that I would remain forever grateful.

I have won the prestigious award, “The Prime Ministers national youth award in excellence for arts and culture”; I must say Thank God for these blessings that I may be a blessing to others. My experience is so great I have been receiving interviews locally and internationally and being featured in magazines abroad and I continue to be publishing in anthologies.

Ashi: You are the youngest published poetess I ever know, what advice would you give your contemporary writers and poets?

There is no right or wrong way of expressing yourself. Just be natural and let it come out of you without forcing it. If your work is rejected , do not become demotivated as it is what every writer goes through. Writing is a learning lesson you never get anything right the first time even publishing so do not get upset it takes years of experience to know a lot and just do not be afraid to express your opinion as it is bound to upset someone. Stand by your writings and beliefs and for that your honor is earn never you become proud and arrogant when recognized maintain composure and humility. Prepared to be misunderstood and criticize even ostracized if you are not prepared to stand for truth and Justice and be a rebel with the pen then you are not cut out for this. Being a writer is not just pen and paper it is being an advocator. Ashi: This time our theme is on 'love' please, give your opinion on this topic.

Love is versatile in regard to love of family, people, lover, sexual love, romance love, love comes in different forms, shapes and sizes

and it has a universal definition as well as personal definition. It is something beautiful and can be heart wrenching and there should be universal love among us.

Ashi: Give your opinion on Reflection magazine and would you like to give any advice for improvement. I think it is a great magazine for young writers gaining exposure. I like each magazine with a different theme always appealing and colorful and well edited. I can see the effort and time put in this magazine. My suggestion for improvement is that like wine fermented it will get better but I do hope more promotion would be applied by readers and staff in making it more known.

Ashi: Thank you for sharing your true words ofwisdom in the literary field and for the improvement ofour literary magazine. The budding writers are sure to draw nourishment from the radiance ofyour spirit and your gracious advice would boost up their enthusiasm to create marvels from their pens. Hope to grow more with enlightening company ofyours. Profound thanks to you!

CAROLINE NAZARENO Caroline Nazareno, born in Anda, Pangasinan, Philippines on April 10, 1980, is a multi-awarded poet, editor, journalist, public speaker, linguist and educator. Ceri Naz recently won the concluded Frang Bardhi Literary Prize 2014 in Albania. She received the sair- gazeteci ( Poet-Journalist) award during the 34th KIBATEK International Festival ofLiterature and Arts in Tuzla, Istanbul, Turkey on November 8, 2014. She was a featured poet at Vancouver Word 0n The Street, World Poetry Canada and International and Poetry Around The Globe. She was awarded Empowered Poet 2013 during the World Poetry International Peace Festival 2013 in Vancouver, Canada. Graduating cum laude with the degree ofBachelor of Elementary Education, major in General Science at Pangasinan State University. Ceri Naz pursued higher studies in journalism, public speaking and leadership. She earned her post graduate studies in Administration and Supervision at Eulogio ‘’Amang’’ Rodriguez Institute ofScience and Technology. Currently, she writes for the Philippine Canadian Inquirer and Manila Bulletin.

Earth And Sky OfMine I look down on the earth to reach The sky above me I can see no boundaries In my love territory

A Day Without Youâ&#x20AC;Ś Is like a desolated horizon without a rainbow, Is like a dying twig, Is like a barren castle, in the sand ofmeaningless. for with youâ&#x20AC;Ś I can be a a rainbow, a tree, and a castle ofmeanings.

My Skylight Your eyes paint rainbows Over the fading colors Ofunwritten wishes. Your touch like dandelion fingers Lighten up Mornings without the sun. You are the skylight Sending fireflies To a dimming heart.

Ceri Naz (Philippines)

Laura Cameron started writing over three years ago, on her forty-fifth birthday. Since then she has had one short story and four poems published in local anthologies and on-line magazines. She has recently completed a poetry collection dealing with her experience ofbaby loss. Laura lives in a small village in Northern Ireland with her husband, teenage daughter and Shih Tzu.

Knuckles

Laura Cameron (Ireland) This is the twenty-sixth year And yet I still get butterflies. When I know you'll meet me at the station I entertain some BriefEncounter fantasy. But it's only you and me, Going to the supermarket Wondering what to have for tea. You ask me what I've gone offthis week I turn my nose up at pork, chicken, beef. I say I think I should turn veggie (We have this conversation weekly) But we buy the meat I cook, we eat. I forget I don't get younger, thinner As you run your knuckles down My lower spine Or slide both hands around Where my tiny waist once was.

Books Are Our Cultural Heritage Praveen Gola (Delhi, India) Books are our Friends , They attract us at a glance , Let others count them as a satire , But the real Lovers Keep them on Hire. Books are our need , to generate a new knowledge seed , Books are our supplement , to attain new compliment. Books convert a layman , into a good human , Books throw a new light , for future foresight. Some books contain theories , and some are for children stories , Some are based on common sense , while some create a shining lens. Everyone ofany age , Go on studying in a fit ofrage , As books take away their anger , and increase their appetite hunger. Books based on peace , are generally used to preach , Therefore books create new thoughts , as every thought brings a lot. Educational books are wonders , as they emerge thunder , Many new scientists throw new light , so that the coming generation makes their future bright. Books give us a new hope ,

therefore We learn to climb on a success rope , Books refresh our mind , and make us kind. Books are our soul , and play a new role , Books based on Luck , Prevent our mind from saturation suck. Books attain new achievements , as they work for mental treatments , Books which define crimes , act as the best pathway to learn new rhyme. Drawing books impart us an energetic sense , as a perfect hand and eye coordination relieve us from mental tense , Books meant for art and craft , save human to become a dwarf. Cookery books make us a perfect chef, and we become habitual to measure the depth , Books based on History , always have some mystery. Every country has its own culture , and these books describe their future , Books are the joyful ride , through which We enjoy our Life with a lovely Guide. Books are our Cultural Heritage , So We have to preserve them for a longer age , Books are those beautiful monuments , through which every age attain happiness.

Lifeline Ceri Naaz (Philippine poetess, stays in British Columbia) There are byways offormidable and invisible Like an evening primrose's scent the epoch ofdreams and realms In myself, the host ofoutnumbered consequences I beat the unsung hymns ofwhat's enough I find satisfaction through imperfect gasps I meet a pagan, sage and wanderer While merging in the race of the blinds I figure the true colors ofempty-handed gamblers Bound everywhere, marrying different tongues Where the hoods ofinnocence and mercy The morphs ofmy own existence, my undying legacy I make home-runs that equate sincerity With all the renegades ofridicules and mockery I don't need to pretend I am a perfect package For in truth, peace and hope I am naked I am a handicap when I am in rage I am a stranger in my own self When I fart with vain and treachery I smell the greases that reel my life I love the warts that make me whole I am a trenchant, a wayfarer in billow As I see wonders ofa resounding tomorrow.

The Groaning Wind Heather Jephcott (Australian, stays in Indonesia) Waking up from dreams to sounds strange not ofthe traffic I realize. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the wild wind speaking, Calling and groaning through the eaves, among the trees. Opening the curtains I see The trees bending backwards beckoning me to come out and join in the wild dance. The wind moans grandly, creaking and squeaking and meets me as I open the door forcing me to feel its touch almost lifting me up The wind continues talking giving out warnings as it spreads the clouds across the sky the gusts delivering the news that rain is on its way.

Sunrise Heather Jephcott (Australian, stays in Indonesia) Morning after morning the sun hurries to get up across this archipelago ofislands large and small everywhere and here in Sanur where Bali begins Morning after morning here in Sanur the sun takes its time dawdling to the horizon slowly dawning and making its way up to shine on us all Morning after morning here in Sanur a different beauty is displayed

distinct and unique untiringly creative never growing old splendor on a grand, non repetitive scale. Morning after morning people willingly wake up early people from all over the worldtourists, photographers, locals waiting to welcome and see what personal beauty will rise just for them assured ofa wealth ofstunning views capturing each heart's rapture.

ATHENS Athens stone of sapphire of ground the Ring… Years rooted here less than the rich sunlight Greek light stone chisel coalesce with the Gods with souls, with ideas and names *** Petals ofroses fall to earth Centuries browse under the marble sculptors invincible columns ofthe Parthenon *** With the golden armor hand and the sword Athena, goddess ofthe city pilgrims who searching for the way Immortal spirit ofthe Greek leads «Greece before the sort ofglorious years never fade

Kostis Palamas

why is unfading Sofia »

*** My friends and my acquaintances Flowers on tree clones flourished and matured all these years from the weight they fell in this ground where wounded bird in the fog from the current invaders it resembles *** Athens Eternal Beauty soil glorious lightning capture tools the cloud and the Star Atticus Sky each new day crowned with ancient ideals *** New Sun, New route A Golden City there always remains hidden the handful ofGod hiding

TANKA Melissa Seth (Philippine stays in KSA) *Rain with the wind* Rain makes me blessed I'm frozen by its coldness Its cold winds caress Its chillness wipes my sadness The wind pushes me the best

*Sunset* I pray, you bow too Your rays brighten my pain It renews my life Another sunset will come To remind me, there's tomorrow

My Culture My Heritage Ramesh Rai (India) I am born in the land where stream ofmulti religions are flowing constantly like the sunâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rays carrying aroma of multi colors with the significance of enlightenment, love and peace like the seven sound ofveena floating to pacify the atmosphere. I am born in the land where the root ofknowledge and wisdom spreads its wings to fly in the open sky and sing the song offreedom and enthusiasm. I am born in the land where there is no dispute ofrace, color and language. I am born in the land where the atmosphere is being constantly purified with the bells ofthe church, temple, guruvani, Aazan ofthe mosque and so many other spiritual hymn expressing the existence ofthe creator and praising magnificent divine glory. I am born in the land where art and culture survived despite several invasions. I am born in the land where harmony exists in every breath

where regards for each one follows the tranquility ofevery soul. I am born in the land where the seed ofuniversal peace sprouted proclaiming the world as one family. I am born in the land where the past sings her glory in the caves ofAjanta Elora and crying for her retrievement. I am born in the land which has introduced zero to accelerate the wheel ofprogress. I am born in the land which has introduced decimal to peep into tiniest particles ofcreation. I am born in the land where cloth was used first to cover the body. I am born in the land where every dawn brings rainbows ofjoy every dusk sinks spraying pleasures oflove and peace. I am born in the land where every creation ofthe Almighty is worshipped where cascade ofwisdom flows constantly . I bow my head before that land which has heard my first cry.

Set Free Spring Pitts (USA) Standing by my Grandmotherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s grave Knowing she was always so brave She taught me that Jesus could save And how his life he gave Also how I should always behave For to get to Heaven up in the sky Above the moon and stars so high You should never steal, cheat or lie And you must be saved Cause when we see Heaven we will be amazed This is how I was raised My Grandmother loved Jesus and she loved me And I have comfort that her and my father I will see I asked for forgiveness and made my plea As I knelt on my knee Jesus set me free From the chains that bound me.

These few poems are on tranquility, our Reflectionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s family pleads to Almighty that may this coming year would be more safe and peaceful for all ofus.

In The Name Of Humanity Jaffer Safwan (Saudi Arabia) IfI can look at all religions as one Or I can follow the teachings ofall IfI can preach for the unity ofhuman souls Or I can aim high to achieve that goal I shall not live in vain. IfI can stop killing in all lands Or I can do my share to stop war IfI can love all human races Or I can replace hatred with love and peace I shall not live in vain. IfI can feed one hungry soul Or I can uplift sadness from one saddened heart IfI can bring two friends together after fight Or I can forgive the one who stoned me with a stone I shall not live in vain. IfI can teach a human being a skill Or I can make him live on his own IfI can rekindle a candle at night Or I can guide a blind man to his door I shall not live in vain.

Innocence vs Revenge

Dr. Ruchida Barman (Jaipur, India) To jump, to run, to play To cry, to laugh, to say That is childhood. Who resents this golden period Who resents this innocent period That is adulthood. But the revenge from INNOCENTS? Revenge from childhood? Revenge from blissful unawareness? That is madness. It is inhuman. It is insensible. It is unfortunate. That is terrorism. Our heart goes out to all the families. Our heart goes out to all the mothers. Our heart goes out to all the fathers. Our heart breaks apart. Help them Lord! Save the world Lord! Spread your love Lord! Remove this hatred Lord! Please! Please! Please!

A lost love letter Iram Fatima ‘Ashi’ (Saudi Arabia, NRI)

I was standing on a lonesome sea shore, away from flock, trying to absorb the beauty of sunset. I saw a long packed bottle floating on the sea waves as if waves were playing with it and wanted to throw it towards the shore to reveal some secret. A bottle was struggling to go inside the depth of the sea and wanted to conceal itself like a pearl hidden itself in a seashell. My tendency of curiosity is now on peak and I rushed on rolling the sea waves bare foot and jumped to catch the bottle. I got that in my hand and held it as if I won a trophy, I moved towards the seaside and sat on the wet sand. It was wonderful to see a rolled paper inside a bottle, like a map of treasure or message, used to keep inside by ancient sails. I got indulged in opening of that bottle but it was so much tightly packed that I had to break it. Then a paper roll came out, I looked around to make sure that none was going to see this secret. No there was no one, except me. I opened that slowly. In a very first look it seemed as a message or letter, written to someone. I knew it was bad manners to read other’s letter but could not resist reading, it goes like this-

Dearest Peter, As you know I am the princess ofmy father, who brought me up with lots oflove, care and attention. I am the one who is trained to do all things ofher parental choice with their approval and for their contentment. I am not allowed to love anyone ofmy choice. I am born to follow all traditions and norms and to die within these borders. I saw you in social gathering, you were sitting next to my father. I observed you deeply and you were just a boy ofnext door then. God might have written something else for us and he turned all circumstances upside down. You and me came face to face then, a chance to know each other… to be friend or may be more than that. I had gone through the moment when I filled with the fear oflosing myselffor you and to fall for a person who had nothing common with me nor is acceptable by my family. I closed myself into a shell and came up as a dump for you. But it was late… I had already fallen for you. You flirted, played and then got soft corner for me. You were confused with so many mixed sentiments. Finally you discovered it was love for me. At last you dared to accept it boldly by holding my hand, to express into three magical words… I love you. First, I thought that, it might be your prank and you will probably laugh in second moment and make fun ofme. But the next moment I was thrilled by reading hidden note into your eyes; it was pure love for me. I didn’t accept it because I am not that much lucky to absorb that emotion in my life. These social norms would not let me admit nor you could dare to go beyond these borders. I have to

accept all facts and I had to leave. I want to save you from being hurt. I have to move from your world by accepting proposal ofmy family’s choice, to admit the blame ofcoward. I was upset shattered and broken inside, silently screamed and cried a lot. I tried my best to accept another Stranger in my life with my elder’s approval- physically, as soul was already surrendered to you. I am feeling some where I am losing my patience and breaking from inside, can’t cope up with these fake customs. When a soul had been already surrendered to you then how can I adjust with others? Ifthis body is made up ofthree elements ofsoil, water and fire then I want to submit this holy stiffto any ofthese. It is a holy surrender to join you from soul. I know you might be leading life ofyour choice but give an inch to me, to roam around you. There is something which I always left unexpressed and unsaid. A desire to touch your soul through my words set

me to fire and burned so much that I picked my pen in this moments and it started to bleed, out ofwarmth of my emotions. What are you to me? IfI start thinking then this thought takes me out ofthe world, inside the galaxy of sublime and that fades in the glow ofbrightness ofmy sentiments. When I try to measure depth ofmy love for you the ocean surrenders and seems high, mountains come down to bow their head, Clouds melt into water and cry in the shape ofrain. I always tried to hide my feelings for you in my heart just as a flower holds smell inside, a wind holds storm; earth holds trees and life, clouds hold water. My love is like a secret ofnature still to be discovered and revealed. The more you will be curious the more you leave unanswered. This affection has no reasons it might be one of nature’s mysterious mystery. I am unable to carry this warmth hold inside me and want to free my soul for loving you. I want to unwrap this secret emotions for you to let these float into universe. I am sharing through my pen, in the hope it might reach you. Now it’s time to go and to untie all bonds and to free myselffrom all worldly strings. Love you always. Yours ever, Julia Joseph I felt as if I had turned into a living statue by the thought that could so much ‘love’ be felt by someone for the other? Do these love stories exist in real life too? Will I be able to experience it in any phase of my life? I am feeling touched and left with my soul shaken…

The Case Of The Missing Boy Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra (Kolkota, India)

His dream was to become a detective,so he literally ate, slept and drank from any detective novels he could lay his hands upon. Hercule Poirot, Sherlock Holmes, Feluda, Byomkesh Bokshi, Shawn Spencer, Thomas Magnum were among his private investigator heroes, but he truly adored Clouseau from the Pink Panther as well.

Seldom have I seen a boy of my age (17 years) with so much intellect and natural reasoning as this one. He has the most excellent and logical ability of reasoning that could be compared to Sherlock Holmes. The boy I’m referring to is Zaid and yet he prefers to go by ‘Z’ for short. Why? One could ask him, and he would reply…“It just sounds sexy”. His dream was to become a detective,so he literally ate, slept and drank from any detective novels he could lay his hands upon. Hercule Poirot, Sherlock Holmes, Feluda, Byomkesh Bokshi, Shawn Spencer, Thomas Magnum were among his private investigator heroes, but he truly adored Clouseau from the Pink Panther as well.

Adler; and Natalie Cook (Cameron Diaz) in Charlie’s Angels and others as some of his favorite female detectives too.

Balaram Chakraborty’s family is like any other nuclear family that is small, happy and cheerful. But this was not to be for long. Balaram’s only son Bijoy, was a source of many of Balaram’s problems. Though Bijoy was fairly good at academics from the beginning, things soon began deteriorating during the boy’s high school years. It was here that he figured out that his son was heading down the slippery slope instead of accelerating upward in life. His grades began dropping and getting poorer as each day passed. His temper was always on the rise, as he arrived “What about me?” Well, I home late in the night after wanted to be an author too, but hanging out with boys whom now I am diving deep into short many parents would consider to stories, so presently, I will write be outcasts. Being a government what I can call a “karname” of Z! servant, Balaram tried everything What really instills a sense of within his meager salary to get pride within me while being his son’s attention back to his “Z’’s friend is that he never studies but this was of no avail. disrespects anyone. And this Balaram’s wife and Bijoy’s especially is true for those of the mother, Madhumita even left her other sex. He holds fondest job so she could remain closer affection for the likes of Irene beside her son for giving him

morale and vital supports. Again Meanwhile on the Other Side these results were far from improving. It appeared that this Exams were over and we all scenario would be going on until heaved a great sigh of relief. doom’s day arrived! Little did we know what would befall upon us soon. Bijoy was a good student and though everything made sense to “Well, look at me, I forgot to him, he was not one of those love introduce myself to you! My crazy boys running after girls name is Rishi and I am in the that wished to waste time. He same class as Z. Ok enough chit was a nerd and even scored quite chat! Let’s resume our story!” well in class. But all hell broke loose when his parents wanted One Sunday morning Zaid him to try even harder and be the and I planned that we would go top student. Buried with and roam amidst our society expectations, Bijoy soon realized friends (it so happened that me he had no desires for and Zaid lived in the same advancement or good friends, society and we studied in the which were so plenty in other’s same school too. Soon, we lives. He did love one girl, she became the best of friends. But would not pay him any heed and we also had a swarm of other this only made Bijoy a whole lot friends in our close society from more frustrated too. His parents different schools that included had almost surrendered when the Bijoy. Soon he was one of our unthinkable came to happen. good friends too. We soon became worried about him, not He was on the edge of the because he wasn’t doing well in roof and the sun was setting. It studies; as most of us were would be dark soon and then no awfully good at studies except one would bother looking after for Zaid. He used to get top him. Soon, he would disappear grades in his favorite subjects but and finally pursue anything he failed (or just barely passed) in really liked. He had grown so almost all his other subjects. He frustrated being a mama’s boy carried out rough and tumble and wanted to re-live his life, but approach to studies by studying within more adventures. Another only a few days before the step and he would soon vanish exams! Such were my friends’ into the dark. prowess and power. Sometimes I wondered if Z was human or a

One Sunday morning Zaid and I planned that we would go and roam amidst our society friends (it so happened that me and Zaid lived in the same society and we studied in the same school too. Soon, we became the best of friends. But we also had a swarm ofother friends in our close society from different schools that included Bijoy. Soon he was one ofour good friends too

greenish, sludgy alien type of species that had become locked into a human camouflage that was just freely spending his last days in exile, here, on earth!

Yet it was little to their knowing that to leave their humble abode, they would be actually helping Bijoy to fulfill his destined plan. This boy was already planning so very cunningly to be successful within another machinery of thoughts that he had already begun preparing.

mouth.

Mr. Aggarwal and Mrs.Aggarwal lived in the flat just opposite to Balaram Chakraborty. They were a kind As Z always wanted to roam couple who loved Bijoy a lot. and have some ‘adda’ (which is a One reason for this deep small-talk among friends that has affection was that they were a no real agenda) with our close childless couple. Mr. Aggarwal friends. Among these close was a retired marine engineer friends were Debu, Rohan, and and Mrs. Aggarwal was a very Baccha (we called him so, nice housewife. They too because even though he was became worried about Bijoy. about our age, his parents always Apparently, the news of Bijoy’s treated him like a two year old downward slide was fast baby). We were hanging out in spreading like wild-fire the society park when suddenly throughout the whole society and we heard the sound of a police the community. jeep approaching. Zaid was quick enough to throw his Apparently one day Mr. cigarette from his hands. Zaid Aggarwal thought that for one looked at me and said “these last time he and his wife should raids are becoming frequent in make a trip to Kashmir to revive our society, aren’t they?” I then their old honeymoon memories replied angrily “It is none of again.After many days of your business Z! Let the police debating with his wife, Mr. do their work!” Aggarwal finally decided they would go to Kashmir. Yet it was It is at this point that I must little to their knowing that to tell you Zaid had a very bad leave their humble abode, they habit of smoking. But I would be actually helping Bijoy personally found it not so to fulfill his destined plan. This surprising either, because Zaid boy was already planning so was the perfect figure of a very cunningly to be successful detective as he was tall and fair. within another machinery of He did have a few extra pounds thoughts that he had already on him, but I felt that was okay, begun preparing. perhaps,because he was full of logical thoughts most of the time and could be found with a One Week Later: Golden Flake alit and always burning, that was attached to his Zaid and I were aimlessly

roaming about that day, when suddenly another police jeep came and soon stood right beside us (I was mostly happy too that Z didn’t have any cigarette attached to his mouth at the time). A bulky police officer asked us in his authoritarian manner “Boys do you know where AL-256 is in your society?” Zaid locked our eyes together before we began our reply. I first managed to ask the officer this question. ”Uncle what has happened?”The officer then replied in the most disturbed and irritated tone“There has been some case of suicide and a robbery attempt, perhaps…” He then continued on with this “Okay, why do you guys need to come along with us. Hop in now!”

Kakima began crying over and over and fainting every now and then, for Bijoy lived with his parents on the top floor and the apartments in our society were G+four floors or rather five story floors. Some people from the second floor were presently up on the terrace now. According to their account, Bijoy had been sitting on the edge of the wall of the terrace and he was just inches from falling down and dying. They tried to warn him, but he rejected their cries and Mr. Das, at that point blurted out, “He must have jumped later on.” and at this point Bijoy’s mother in her fit of rage came and slapped Mr. Das of the second floor and started crying on and on and saying “my son can’t have done What you say you have seen Upon reaching Bijoy’s house, this! we became shocked in our awe. is definitely wrong!” Here is a brief description of All in contradiction’ Zaid what happened. Yesterday, after a recalled the root of all petty fight with Bijoy’s parents, problemsbecomes like these.The bulky Bijoy escaped without telling police officer made an attempt to anyone and went to the high Madhumita but Mrs. Seth terrace. His parents did not give stop next stepped in as she knew what this much thought either, as mom was going through Bijoy went to the terrace often. It Bijoy’s in this bleak moment. “Let’s go was normal for him to behave and inspect the roof” the bulky like that. However, when he inspector next announced. In the didn’t return even after three of the roof, I could see that hours Madhumita called him on light name on the badge plate was his telephone, but his phone had his Officer Biswanath Maity. been switched off. From that to his name, his time until now there had been no Compared coolness was nowhere visible or trace of Bijoy.

Zaid had a good look below the railing and became pensive inside for just a moment or two.Next, Officer Biswanath came to Bijoy’smother and asked her more than a handful ofquestions that hammered away at her hysterical and sobbing figure. “Was he a bright student? Was he about to give boards next year?

Had anyone decided to take him offto get counseling? Had that effort failed? She could gasp her reply to him “he had finished class X with 92% aggregate and often he felt that he was the king…he is six feet tall, fair and thin…” Next, Officer Biswanath replied “Have you made an F.I.R or diary ma’am?”

to be seen. Mrs. Das went along with all of us most reluctantly and began to show Officer Biswanath the very place from where Bijoy must have jumped from. Directly below, was the railing of the roof that was four to five feet below where a sunshade appeared and that was Mr.Aggarwal’s place. Zaid had a good look below the railing and became pensive inside for just a moment or two. Next, Officer Biswanath came to Bijoy’s mother and asked her more than a handful of questions that hammered away at her hysterical and sobbing figure. “Was he a bright student? Was he about to give boards next year? Had he recently been rolling among any bad company? Was he stealing any money? Had anyone decided to take him off to get counseling? Had that effort failed? She could gasp her reply to him “he had finished class X with 92% aggregate and often he felt that he was the king…he is six feet tall, fair and thin…” Next, Officer Biswanath replied “Have you made an F.I.R or diary ma’am?” The bulky officer asked her patiently…but then a male voice interrupted her reply with a hoarse voice that cried out “no!” Turning back we then saw Bijoy’s father approach inside the roof door. This was the first time we saw Bijoy’s dad. He was a short man and his eyes were sore and red looking behind eyeglasses.

In his business class seat, Mr.Aggarwal appeared very tense seated alongside Mrs.Aggarwal.He had been one of the first to hear of the news of Bijoy. There was another bad news too, as someone had broken into his house and set about stealing around 3000 rupees. What perturbed Mr. Aggarwal the most was that his other valuables had remained intact, even though they were not locked up in the safe and were strewn all over the bed. And he was also feeling sure of that no one could have broken into his house unless he/she made a duplicate key. Mrs. Aggarwal continued looking through the small window and watching the sun set. She could not bring herself to enjoy this site, but rather something kept coming up repeatedly to speak in her mind, and her face clearly showed all signs of stress and utter pensiveness too. “Has Bijoy has fallen into bad company or rather was he really dead? Whatever the answer might be, she kept on silently praying to Lord Ganesh to assist in keeping the lovely boy safe too, whatever the case might be.

Back home, we quickly refreshed ourselves and again went outside. Zaid found and lit his patented Gold Flake Light and said was aimed directly at me“What do you think?”“Who me?” I asked, surprisingly. Well according to me, it’s very clear Bijoy didn’t die!’ Then I continued on“For God’s sake he is missing now! “How can you say he didn’t die?” Quipped Zaid.“Oh come on…” I said I think nobody’s going to roam with his body on his shoulder…’ just to make it look like the body has vanished.”I was about to continue speaking on this more, but soon Zaid stepped up with his new tone of excitement. “Come on, we’ve got some work to do!” Zaid announced as he pulled me so very hard, I nearly fell down. “Back again to investigate? ”We both turned sideways and beheld the fast approaching forms of Debu, Baccha and Rohan. I next heard Zaid mutter under his breath “they only add to the very coming commotion, I guess.”

examine the lock. He next put his hand in his pocket and for what seemed an eternity, he slowly pulled a small plastic bag and scrapped something into it with a small stick. After that, he went to the terrace and before I could shout he went over the railing swiftly and sat down upon the sunshade. I could barely whisper, but Z understood and smiled at me reassuringly. But then we were not much reassured. Suddenly I saw Bijoy’s mom and her white face, but Z next climbed out of the railing and smiled above saying, “I have solved it!”“The police couldn’t solve it then, but how could you?” Asked Bijoy’s mom within her questioning look.“Well,” I said getting agitated, ‘I suppose the police department didn’t go about reading Feluda, Sherlock Holmes or HerculePoirot!’ She could only offer us her faint smile.

Z continued with a question to Bijoy’s mom,“Does he go to the Upon reaching Bijoy’s house, terrace often?” ‘Yes, yes!’ she Zaid straight away told Bijoy’s cried… “Okay, then that explains mother, he might have a solution this easily!” said Z within an air for all of this. Bijoy’s mother’s of satisfied face lit up within her expectantly, accomplishment.“This could be but Z showed no signs of life in possible!””, said Bijoy’smother his. He mundanely asked a couple next.“Well then”, Zaid answered; of basic, routine questions and ‘please call the police if you walked straight to Mr. Aggarwal’s wish, but I do not think Bijoy is door. He carefully began to dead, otherwise you would be

Upon reaching Bijoy’s house, Zaid straight away told Bijoy’s mother, he might have a solution for all ofthis. Bijoy’s mother’s face lit up within her expectantly, but Z showed no signs of life in his. He mundanely asked a couple ofbasic, routine questions and walked straight to Mr. Aggarwal’s door. He carefully began to examine the lock

planning for his funeral now… wouldn’t you?’ In a short blink of an eye, Kakima was placing a call to Officer Biswanath. But, ifthe answer is far from satisfactory and foolish as many boys of your age try on! But mind you, you will have to spend one night in jail and I myselfwill also beat your degenerate ass to the third degree ifyou lie to me!”

Being gifted with such a high IQ appears to have rendered Zaid to be without many emotive feelings.. He never empathized with anyone nor did he appear to feel passionate about most things within his calm and centered energy. It was no wonder to us why he did not have a girlfriend yet, for this reason perhaps. After an hour or so, the police arrived and again I saw the doubting and loathful Officer. Biswanath… He appeared to look narrow eyed and directly at Zaid, as he began with his question. “Aren’t you the boy…?” Zaid completed his words for him… ‘Who showed you the way?’ “Yes, I’m Zaid and I’m solving, rather finding more revealing clues that can help you guys unravel this mystery.” Mr. Biswanath looked at Zaid now, from toe to head and growled “Looks like you found out the solution to the problem we’re facing…”Zaid replied, “As a matter of fact, I have!”Officer Biswanath become red hot inside and joltingly sparred on further “What you are saying? You are so wise to insult now the whole damn police force?” Biswanath was furious and his face became

hued in tones of red; as he became insulted inside of all of this. In fact, anyone would be so, especially if they belonged on any police force too. As they think they have such gifted minds to solving any case. With his full anger aflame, Officer Biswanath jettisoned forth his looming threat to Zaid. “Do one thing, give me your answer within tomorrow morning and if the answer is satisfactory then I won’t say anything. But, if the answer is far from satisfactory and foolish as many boys of your age try on! But mind you, you will have to spend one night in jail and I myself will also beat your degenerate ass to the third degree if you lie to me!” “Ok I won’t mind”, said Zaid confidently. Something told him he was right, it was his gut feeling that spoke as it does for all detectives that must intuitively feel while taking a major decision, and Zaid felt now that he too knew this feeling so very well. Suddenly something happened to me, I don’t know what, but with the looming prospect of Zaid was going to jail and getting beaten made me so very furious. I began shouting directly at Officer Biswanath. “I myself will go with Zaid”. I boldly announced aloud to Officer Biswanath. He only eyed me and laughed, as he injected

his sarcastic growl, “Growing up know. Come quickly to Bijoy’s aren’t we now? Showing up for house and be there just as fast as your worth little boy?” you can!” Back at home later, I scolded into Z with my simmering boil inside “Like hell! ‘What the shit man?’ as I was still fuming over all of this.Just tell me, have you figured this all out?”“Yes, I have,” replied Zaid, I could being to see some light now…”stop this, Zaid… please!”

Bijoy’s mother was astounded at first, but hesitatingly she again called Officer Biswanath. Minutes later he arrived again besmirched with his full grumpiness too, as if it were we who had done something wrong and were calling him to yield his judgment forth. ‘Tell me, young boys, what have you figured Zaid replied next “Ok, let me out?’ Zaid stepped forward think quietly now, would you confidently now with his new mind closing the door behind “Well to begin with, Bijoy is not you, as you leave?’ dead, but is alive and happy too…”Officer Biswanath next “Yeah, sure”, I muttered, then interjects with, “not to disrespect inside, “so much for the you, ma’am at all… but do tell us friendship.” It was Zaid’s all, Zaid, can you prove this and thinking time and all he wanted let us know that he is alive and was that I not disturb his free well?’ flowing thoughts. And as he was a stubborn ass more often than The Description of the not, I did exactly as he requested Scene: and left the scene. “Of course, I can, I met him I didn’t see Zaid in the entire just yesterday too, and we talked whole evening. The next day I in fact! He is quite aware of his was beginning to worry about mistake. “But how?” Officer him, but then his call arrived. Biswanath asked as if he was “Where are you?” His excited now spellbound Zaid appeared to voice asked me. I replied be enjoying every second of his abruptly too…”In my house you last statement too; for this was idiot, why didn’t you meet me his moment of glory and a yesterday?”He quickly took glowing indicator that he had command and retorted to me won with his great detective “Leave those,’ I think I’ve work. Z went to the railing and figured out everything we need to climbed up on top of it and the

“Yeah, sure”, I muttered, then inside, “so much for the friendship.” It was Zaid’s thinking time and all he wanted was that I not disturb his free flowing thoughts. And as he was a stubborn ass more often than not, I did exactly as he requested and left the scene.

But since there is an air conditioning unit in the grill a small opening had only to be made on the grill for conducting the machine’s regular maintenance. After saying all ofthis Zaid showed a small opening that had just enough room for Bijoy to pass through. But again another problem presented as this lock needed to be duplicated too.”

next moment he was down upon containing a piece of shirt. the sunshade. Bijoy’s mother gave an astonished cry. “I also founded He then started on describing this sticking to the grill aloud for us all the scenes as it yesterday.” Said Z. “Go on”, said would have been to Bijoy that Biswanath who was visibly day.“Bijoy, an extremely impressed. And Zaid then added intelligent fellow gathered the one question to Bijoy’s mother, duplicate keys of Mr. Aggarwal’s how did you know there was a flat. Since he visited there often thief in Mr. Aggarwal’s house? he was able to manage to make ”She replied, ‘I think in the dark an impression with this dough I heard some noise and saw a kind of thing and saying so, he dark figure… for the previous pulled out from his pocket the week every day we had been small packet in which he had having load sheddings and each scrapped the pink colored day without fail the current went substance and handed it to off at 11:00 pm.” Officer Biswanath. Given too, that Bijoy is quite tall he will be “Thanks!” said Z and on he able to move easily from this resumed ‘so taking advantage of sunshade to the adjoining grill in the situation, Bijoy crept out of which was situated conveniently Mr. Aggarwal’s house and beside the sun shade and was just deliberately made some noise. a little lower too. But the He knew his parents would be problem is, Zaid resumed for dejected and would not care so some time and continued, there much about any theft. But Bijoy is again a grill and it seemed as if was just being careful; he any entry would be impossible. combined the two events to fit But since there is an air together. Last night I met him conditioning unit in the grill a and…’ before Zaid could small opening had only to be complete there was a sharp ring made on the grill for conducting of the bell. the machine’s regular maintenance. After saying all of I opened the door and found this Zaid showed a small opening Mr. Balaram (Bijoy’s father) and that had just enough room for Bijoy standing together now, side Bijoy to pass through. But again by side… Mrs. Madhumita ran another problem presented as towards her son and out of sheer this lock needed to be duplicated joy started crying out. ‘Well, too.” isn’t this a happy family reunion?”Officer Biswanath said And after saying all of this moving alongside of Z. He Zaid handed over a small packet smiled at us pleasantly surprised

by all of Z’s detective logic. Bijoy while hugging his parents and crying too, turned and gave his thumbs up to his friend, Zaid.

faster day by day.” He shot out at me as... he laughed a little... and added ‘well you know there are certain facts about this case, that Bijoy actually went through over Zaid just edged out a slight the process of a couple of days smile and as we moved on quietly before he attained perfection, he out of the flat. even brought his luggage through the process. Even Bijoy's “Well… well… I did so to mother's necklace was missing underestimate you, young too. “Now how the hell do you man…” Officer Biswanath know all of this?” I exclaimed. conceded in a jocular tone as he Zaid continued on with “Well, smiled at Zaid.“That’s quite when you wear something on alright, inspector.”Zaid said your neck and go out too often smugly. Biswanath continued his you could understand the questions though. “But how did difference because the area you manage to actually find covered with the necklace is Bijoy?”Officer Biswanath asked. partially white.”“To hell with all “Well, you know what… said Z your observations, I said. satisfactorily ‘it is quite lucky too that I’ve still got friends in low Zaid lit his last cigarette of the places.' Well, you are an asset to day (he had a definite quota he us though and quite a useful one always stayed within) and then he too!”...he next exclaimed. He told me smiling “well, all’s well smiled wrying at Officer that ends well.”“Sure I said now, Biswanath with a sheepish grin why not give me a fag too?”… Z next, that only a sly detective reacted as if he had fallen from could actually pull off after the skies as he replied, “And solving such a deep mystery too! since when did you start smoking?” He asked smiling and I had finished writing the releasing the smoke from his story... (Actually Zaid solved the mouth, at just the same time. case only just yesterday)... “Right now!” I blurted and suddenly I saw Z beside me quickly took the salvaged treasure now.“Well, you are becoming to light from him.

Zaid continued on with “Well, when you wear something on your neck and go out too often you could understand the difference because the area covered with the necklace is partially white. ”“To hell with all your observations, I said.

Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra (Kolkota, India)

Photographs By Ruchi Chopra (USA, NRI)

Susan Beall Summers Susan Beall Summers has been writing poetry from a young age and has published a collection of her poetry, Friends, Sins & Possibilities. She is active in the poetry community around Austin, Texas including Austin Poets International, Austin Poetry Society; Writerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s League ofTexas and regularly attends several open mics. See www.tidalpoolpoet.com for more details.

Starella Kissed by the tendrils ofthe morning sun Infused with starlight memory radiating warmth ofspirit from her center transmuting ordinary trials into lessons ofwisdom, freedom, and personal God-power Gracious in her celebrity status, a true star shining a clear beacon toward dimensions beyond space, time and gravity where all true Dreamers awaken and bask in heavenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s universal love and light she remembers she comes from starlight and knows the way home.

Skyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Awakening eyes oftranquil seas sun kissed skin radiant smile sending ripples ofhigh energy vibrations beseeching a higher purpose to awaken inside the dream to achieve community ofspirit to see love and appreciation in every action ofevery person and to be as liberated as the sky.

Love ofmy Life You are my love and every day you are a surprise. Every look and touch familiar, fresh as the first time. When our eyes lock â&#x20AC;&#x201C; whether nose to nose or across crowded places, I see you as a bright light, with renewed desire. When you enter a room or we meet by accident, My heart leaps and my eyes sparkle. Though we have endured arguments, moments ofmisunderstandings, loss ofloved ones, broken promises, separation by distance or emotion â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Or perhaps because ofthese trials, we are togethersharing love, history, and the treasure ofeach other.

Most ofAll You should know by now I love all ofyou, Even - and especially - the dark places you try to hide. I know and love those most ofall. They speak to the pain oftrials, wrecked marriages, war, Times ofbeing misunderstood, unappreciated, disrespected. The darkness is just your shadow trying to stay deep In the cave ofself-preservation, But I know it’s there and love it too. I wish I could bring enough light so you can see you’re not alone. I know you’ve always done your best and even though There are things that you won’t tell me, I know you through and through and I love the secrets as part ofyou. Show me who you are, tell me where you’ve been What you’ve seen, experienced, and learned the hard way, And know that I love every step ofyour journey that led you here with me Together: exposed, honest, scared and scarred, but never ashamed. There is no room for guilt or regret when who you’ve become is just a reflection Ofthe path that helped to create ‘you’ in this moment. You are safe in this sacred embrace; Share your dark spaces, your fears, your dreams, For I love them most ofall because I have darkness too.

Susan Beall Summers (USA)

Art Section

Love Is Life

By Raj Verma

"So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all ofyou, forever, you and me, every day…" – Ryan Gosling, The Notebook 70

"It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be togetherâ&#x20AC;Ś and Iknew it." â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Tom Hanks, Sleepless In Seattle 71

"The best love is the kind that awakens the soul; that makes us reach for more, that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s what I hope to give you forever. " â&#x20AC;&#x201C; The Notebook

"Don’t forget I’m just a girl, standing in front ofa boy, asking him to love her." – Notting Hill

"Your heart is free, have the courage to follow it." â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Braveheart 74

"I’m scared ofwalking out ofthis room and never feeling the rest ofmy whole life the way I feel when I’m with you." – Dirty Dancing 75

"Pleasure oflove lasts but a moment. Pain oflove lasts a lifetime." â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Bette Davis 76

"Love is a promise; love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear." â&#x20AC;&#x201C; John Lennon

"Love is blind. It will take over your mind. What you think is love, is truly not. You need to elevate your mind." â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Eve

"I refuse to let what happened to me make me bitter. I still completely believe in love and I'm open to anything that will happen to me." Nicole Kidman

Love Letters For YOU

Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo (Philippines) The Love Smith captures each and everyone's soul, with intricately-woven words well-crafted, poetic lines, which could tame even the hardest ofhearts. Like magic, sprinkled with stardust captivates everyone who reads, until their eyes produce dewy drops offragile tears. Many ofmy readers think these letters were written for them, assuming they have enamored my innocent heart and that I would be theirs. They'll never know these love letters were especially composed just for you though the emotions I truly feel, are just all locked up inside yes, even ifI know for sure it is real. These love letters would somehow find their way to get to you, perhaps in your dreams each night when an angel whispers sweet nothing to your ears. I might also store these love letters in a bottle then toss it to the sea while I walk barefooted along the shoreline, with only the seagulls as witnesses to a love I chose to hide. I'll just let time let you find these love letters from me for I still believe that where ever you may go soon, Love would find you even ifyou will not search or wait for it.

Feel Of Love Abhilasha Kaushik (Jaipur, India)

It is something far beyond the word Tis a matter where not allowed any third His presence makes you feel coy You want to hide though heart is full ofjoy Your eyes chase to see your Mr. Right But irony lies in the scene, when you catch his sight Always you want to listen to him, without letting him know But when face-to-face, your eyes really bow You want to touch him once and feel his smell But in case he does you totter and fall Ifhe comes and talks, It comes as a shock Although very rough, very clumsy and tough Still you find him soft, his care seems enough You want to tell him this -He is water you are fishOnce you gain your dare and try to tell him fair You go to him and ask, that you have an urgent task You try your best to pour out what is next Your voice goes dim, eyes donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t look at him Still he gets your feel, assumes your appeal He holds your hand, to show that he understands Tis called the feel oflove Innocent like a dove.

Why do I write? Ruchi Chopra (US, NRI)

Why do I write? When someone asks me this question, I always have a cheerful smile on my face with words- “When I get tired of my psyche babbling, I write.”This statement is not rhetorical but indeed is my sincere response.

I used to pick up the books ofAgatha Christie, R K Narayan, Roald Dahl, Dr.Seuss, Ruskin Bond and The Famous Five series; Nancy Drew Series were just a few of my favorite ones. I loved reading poetry from famous poets around the world too; including Robert Frost, E. E. As far as my memory goes almost 23 years Cummings, Emily Dickinson, Oscar Wilde, Maya back, I wrote my first small couplet on my Angelou, and Tagore. Dwarika Prasad Maheswari father’s birthday. Since then, I remember I have poetry “Veer Tum Badhe Chalo” is one of my allbeen writing whenever I have found inspiration. time favorite pieces of poetry. Since my College But mostly these words, verses and inspirations days, this list became more and more had been safely put away in my Dear Diary, until comprehensive to encompass authors within the my first official published article for the HT likes of Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Satyajit Ray, Youth section occurred at the age of 18 years. Khaled Hosseini and many more to fulfill From then onward, I have been writing for online delightful literary treats. All of these gems have websites, online journals, newspapers, been inspirational for me in so many ways for documentaries; and now books. penning down my thoughts and words to create silhouettes within a framework and title. Since my early childhood days, I had been an avid reader, mostly gobbling and surviving on Literature (Writing) is a powerful precursor of comics and children’s books- Pinki, Chacha every great successor. It’s a feeling of gratitude Chaudary, Champak, Nandan to name few, were when someone gives you the “eternal baton”, to my first books buddies. This was the best propagate and become a part of this beautiful motivator for me to keep reading my school text journey within the sharing and communicating of books also. Slowly and gradually I developed a words, verses and thoughts through writing. sense of picking books from the school library for my first introduction into the vast literature arena.

But the “responsibility” also comes within this great feat. You can’t just opine your thoughts, views, rationale based on judgmental and emotive responses. You would not be doing justice to yourself or to this beautiful “god gifted” yet powerful mechanism of expression.

moral contraption and psychological terror which has made all of us, go somewhere deep inside to look for and to take refuge in the comforting world of imagination that blends with a flawless mix of realism and idealism. I feel safe within confinement of my writing world where I can revel in my reverie; while not imposing my Communication has two sides- verbal and wishes and perceptions I can readily share my non-verbal. For non-verbal, writing is one of the message with the rest of the world. I am very most beautiful and an elegant medium in which to passionate about reading and writing poetry in propagate and share your thoughts, talks, views, English, Hindi and Urdu. What better thing could jibes, jaunts and verses with all of rest of the exist for me, other than writing wherein my “little world. messengers” in the form of sweet and vivacious What you write should be free from words can easily come alive and do the rest predispositions, objectifications and within writing’s wonderment? mortifications of anything too. As in my views, We must be responsible in our ways, be polite we all can agree to disagree most of the time, but with our words and be virtuous to communicate “freedom of expression” should not be negated the messages that we wish to share with the rest within the “duty” toward others for being kind of the world.So I am now sharing a few lines with and respectful of their opinions. my amazing readers too! Words Writing has taught me• Persistence Cheering all petite words • Courtesy Lingers in my notebook • Imagination Making one new sentence • Consistency I am learning every day with these • Being Passionate Words amazing calculations As the saying goes, “Pen is mightier than the sword”. We see lots of intolerance, violence, and terror around ourselves. I feel it’s a congested

Durga Patva (U.P., India)

Writing is the mother of literature and literature is the compendium in which all kinds of customs, traditions and culture, (knowledge of all sorts) remain stored safely. Different persons have different aim of their writing. Some write for their pleasure, others for using their free time, somebody’s writing is for pleasing somebody or his/her inspiration or for expressing dedication and tribute. In view of this, there is not any single aim or objective of writing. It is so because all the writers write according to their conscious, unconscious or sub conscious levels and to their grasping power about the fact. Writing also plays an essential role in the development of civilization; it

adorns anybody’s personality because it is the source of achieving knowledge. The existence of literature can never be imagined without writing. The significance of writing beautifully expressed by Francis Bacon, Father of English Prose; “Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man.” As for as my writing is concerned, I write because I wish to immortalize all my thoughts, ideas, feelings including my love, culture, true knowledge and tradition. As we all know very well, alteration is the rule of universe in which as Tennyson wrote: “The old order changeth, and

yielding place to new.” So writing is such a connecting link that brings closer or together the old generation to the new generation or both in a tandem. It is my writing through which I do wish to remain ever connected with the coming generations. Through my writing I shall always take breath in new future and this thing always pleases me, though after the death just as all the dead authors are still alive in their writing. No one can defeat death but it is my writing that will help me to save my precious things and companions from the destructive hand of time. Last but not the least, I must say I write because “pen is mightier than the sword.” Writing is more powerful than a dangerous and fatal weapon, we have the example of Pope’s satirical poem; An

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot in which he indirectly condemned the character ofAddison although it is named as the portrait ofAtticus. Here, to validate my point it would be imperative to quote William Shakespeare’s: “…that in black ink my love may still shine bright”. “Through writings such as poetry, novels, or whatever, feelings, desires, and all the strong emotions, written inside, due to inhibition, get purged and are expressed in a refined way”. Simply I write because I think that writing has all kinds of remedy- a perennial panacea to all ails, diseases or maladies gripping our society and environment.

Under Fifteen Zone Zain-Ul-Abidin Khan Alizai (Pakistan) I am thirteen years old, live in the town ofWah Cantonment. I have been writing for a couple of years now. I write in every genre and every style. My work has also been featured in other magazines. I’m also the still-to-be-recognized youngest person ofPakistan, writing both poetry and short stories and acclaimed also in both.

I Will Always You made a brave, roaring leap And just made my road so steep I've crossed halfofthe world for you Still you made me fall in the abyss; deep But still, I will always love you, no matter you love me or not. I will always care for you, no matter you care for me or not Just look for it, there's a place inside You’d have to search, you’d just have to find All ofmy love; it is up to you Ifyou dearly want it too Come with me! We'll go again there But only, ifyou come back here Look, love! Moon is in sight, I’m entangled in your thoughts and mine Oh yes, we'll bloom in the times Enjoy, till the clock for midnight, chimes Please come once more! Please come once more! I will always wait for you, baby! I will always wait for you!

Nourish Love Shahid Khan (India) Nourish the plant oflove And you will find – your heart As fragrant as a blooming rose. Let the roots oflove grow And you will find – it is deeper Than the deepest ocean in this world. Ignite the spark oflove And you will find – your life Shining brighter than the sun. Let love be the anchor And you will find – the ship ofyour life Sailing smoothly amidst the worst ofstorms. Free the bird oflove in the open sky And you will find – the flight ofpeace Conquering every corner ofthe earth. Let the feeling oflove float in the air And you will find – the reign ofhate Falling down like house ofcards.

Jack Campbell Jack Campbell grew up in the oil fields ofSoutheastern New Mexico. A land ofmany contradictions where stark flatland vistas give a sense ofemptiness and desolation; it's a desert after all. Yet, there is hidden beauty in the landscape. There is majesty in the towering thunderheads that cross ranchland and derrick fields. The people are contradictory, at once kind-hearted and hardened by difficult lives. The people and the land is a great source ofinspiration. Mr. Willow is an example ofthat. There is a city park with a small lake. Many trees surround the place, but near the edge close to the water is the willow. Trunk is thicker than two longed armed men can reach around and it stands close to fifty foot high.

Mr. Willow Jack Campbell (USA) My old friend, it's been far too long. How are you, now that the years have rolled by? You are not that much changed; a little more girth, perhaps? But, ain't that the truth ofus all, these days. This place, your home, it's still familiar in memory. Comfortably so, it has evolved very little over the years. It's the memories you see; the reason for the visit. Memories ofthe early years, when we were young. When my wife and I were first dating new to each other. We would come here to your home and spend hours planning our future, dreaming ofwhat would be. I remember your gracious patience as we stole kisses under your roofofgolden leaves. Our wedding--simple, nothing fancy. Just the pastor and a couple offriends to witness our joining with joy. Afterwards, we came and told you more dreams; How when things were better We would come and hold a celebration to renew our vows beneath your roofofgolden leaves. The years for the most part have yet been kind. Though some have been bitter and filled with sorrow. No matter though, folk always have trouble and you've shown us how to bend, but not break. You've taught us how to make the wind our friend. It's that kind ofwisdom that keeps us rooted in good ground. Still, sometimes it be difficult to drink deeply and not lose sense ofthe now and all that is at stake. I need to ask you a great boon ofno little import; to impose upon your hospitality and kindness once more. I would ask that you do not depart your home by this lake that you would remain until such time as I may return with my bride; hand in hand to fulfill our promise made so many years ago; to come again and celebrate our vows beneath your roofofgolden leaves.

Te amo Jnika Tuteja (India) May be some day baby, I'll hold your hand baby! At a concert grand, We'll be canned, on a holy land Then offwe'll go and get ourselves tanned And spend all the cash in hand. May be some day baby, We'll break away baby! For a field day And won't return till a solar day. It won't be a child's play To stay along till our hair is grey But our love will not fade away And every day would be a new year's day. May be some day baby Together we'll stay Blessed like that May be some day baby, I'll hold your hand baby!

Your Reflection I liked sketches from Raj Varma sir more than paintings .Shahid bhaiya's work is very beautiful and so apt to the theme. Raven Snow has given an insight into Middle East, Fascinating interview. I enjoyed reading interview; this one was different from past ones because it was mostly writers who were interviewed. Shaziya Shaik (India) A wonderful magazine! The writing and the art in this magazine is beautiful and the layout is better than before! You guys did an amazing job! Everyone should be very proud! Angie Blake (USA) Two years already? May it celebrate many more. I wish had given more time! Stay blessed Ashi and team... Indira Babbellapati (India) Super lovely! Thank you for another very fine publication! Jen Walls (USA)

Second Chance At Love Aarati Salian (Mumbai, India) Hey there, are you feeling alone Hey there, are you a bit forlorn? Maybe I could brighten you up And make you smile like the sun. I watch as you wipe your tear-laden eyes. I hear you make that sad little sigh. Maybe I could cheer you up. And bring you all that you desire. I can feel your sadness crowd on you. I can touch your empty heart. Just give me a chance to mend you. And I will make you a blooming flower. I can see you counting the stars, catching broken dreams from below the sky. Let me just come closer to you. I promise, I will be with you until I die. I know I cannot change your story, Or bring you back your past memories. But a happy ending I can give, For you to revel, love and cherish. Accept me as a friend or a guide Or as a soul-mate or lover. And I promise, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll stay by you, For now, for after and forever.

Guidelines For Submitting Your Manuscripts 1- You should have a proper pen name, pen name like 6- It is advised that you must send your manuscript fully girlie2000, lifeisadream, will not be accepted. Ifyou use edited and grammatically checked. Our editors will not your real name, it will be highly appreciated. be able to edit or amend it so they have the right of rejecting your manuscript. 2- You can send us stories, poems, essays, interviews, reportage, novel summaries etc. 7- This is a free online magazine so we shall not pay any money for any ofyour published work. 3- Be original, plagiarism in any form is unbearable so it will be your responsibility to deal with, ifsomeone 8- Presently we are doing only six online issues a yearr. claims or complains about your work the editor and the publisher will not be responsible for any ofthe 9- Our long term dream is to publish unpublished published work. writers, please do your best to provide us with your best work. 4- It is necessary to provide your contact details with your manuscript. But ifyou like your contact details will 10- Our publisher MOPH is determined to publish the be published under your work so that it will enable the print versions ofyour novels too. Ifyou have a novelist readers to interact with you directly. in you please send us the summary ofyour novel. 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 offour letter words is not permitted.

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Pencil Sketch By Piyush Kumar 96