Reflection wr mag january 2014 by Reflection W&R Mag

Reflection W&R Mag January 2014 Editorial

The Dowry System

Richa Dixit

Vincent Van Ross 7

Unaccompanied Baggage Hitchhiker

Yamunai Thuraivan

One Soul

Anupma Dafre

Janet P. Caldwell, poetess, writer, publisher.....(Interview Of The Month) 19 Responsibility Cannot Shirk

Sangeeta Ajay 27

Sham Of Equality In Society

Dr. Ruchida Barman

Cherry Street Girl

Charls Darnell

Sizzling Change In New Year

Diwakar Pokhriyal 33

The Darkness Raven Snow

Social Distance Iram Fatima 'Ashi' To You My Darling Love A Warrior Woman Story Of Nobody

Jaffer Safwan

Kalpana Shah Arie

Bhanu Mannava

What it's like?

Anam Arfeen

I love yummy chocolate Cry From Inside Women

Lisa Ayers

Jaffer Safwan

God's Grace

Basilia Leva

Praveen Gola

Letter Of Sacrifice

Fahmid Hassan Prohor

The Story Of Army's Lost Love Suicide足 Never a solution

Shahid Khan

Vasanthi Papu

(Art Section)

(Book Review)

Oh, Please give me a break Mystery And Misery

(Under 15 Zone)

(Novel Section)

Paintings By R. K. Verma

My First Poetry Book

Why Do I Write? Guidelines

Your Reflection

Associate Editor Note

Managing Editor

Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

Associate Editor

Vasanthi Papu

Magazine Artist

R. K. Verma

Page Layout

Reflection Team

Front Page Painting

R. K. Verma

Back Page Painting

Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

reflection18@ymail.com

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Beloved readers, Greetings to you all! Firstly I would like to congratulate you all on completion of one year of our international online literary magazine â&#x20AC;&#x153;Reflectionâ&#x20AC;?, this could not be possible without our enthusiastic writers, poets, artists and encouraging readers from all over the world, cheers to all of you!! Our journey was interesting since starting and we did better with each and every next issue . We tried to fulfill all your expectations with your suggestions. We kept experimenting on different themes to explore our writers and artists, to come up with unique artistic aroma for our readers. This time we came with the theme of burning social issues and we proudly present the poem of Mr. Charles Darnell's (Texas) 'Cherry Street Girl' showing the pathetic condition of a prostitute , a bold article showing mirror to the double standard of Indian society by Dr. Ruchida Barman, a hope giving story 'Sizzling Change in New Year' by Diwakar Pokhriyal (Delhi, India), an inspiring interview of poetess, writer, publisher Ms Janet P. Caldwell (US), pain of broken relations is nicely depicted by Ms Vincent Van Rose in 'Unaccompnied Baggage' and for the sake of awareness Basilia (India) has composed a

lovely poem 'Suicide-Never a solution'. Our regular column, 'Under fifteen zone' for projecting our new crop's talent, 'Why do I write' to let our writers expressing reason for picking their magical pen, 'Your Reflection' to present our readers views and love for literary magazine form part of this issue.. Special thanks to my amazing associate editor Ms Vasanthi Papu for her continuous support and help to come up with the best work, Mr. Kumar Vikrant for dreaming such an amazing project and putting life into it with his hard work and fascinating layouts with the help of his team, Mr. R. K. Verma for contributing wonderful art and making 'Reflection Magazine' a complete fascinating creative package. Keep reading and suggesting for betterment. Congratulations again!! Love and blessings,

Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

(Saudi Arabia, NRI)

The Dowry System Richa Dixit (Gwalior, India) Historically, this system was willingly followed by the parents of the bride in many parts of the world, but now at many places (especially in India) it is it is being forcefully asked for. Earlier the system was prevalent only in the wealthier families but now unfortunately the greed of Dowry actually is a cultural dowry has struck to most system where the parents ordinary families and has of the bride give away become an unspoken some money, expensive gifts to her so that in case of demand for marriages. Marriage is a big occasion lack of resources she can for a person and his/her lead a comfortable life family members. There are ahead after marriage. lots of dreams and The dowry system is so deeply rooted in Indian culture, that sometimes one feels that there's going to be no way out . Dowry is an evil, evil system and all of us, at some level, condone it and even contribute to it.

ambitions associated with a marriage. All the dreams and ambitions are spoiled when a married female is slapped, beaten and abused for sake of some money and property. She is asked to come at her husbandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s home with a bag full of money and some property papers. Dowry system is spread in the society because of some greedy people and uneducated parents. A girlâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s parents think that their daughter doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get any kind of problem in her married life.

Hence they fulfill the demands of boy’s side family members. They don’t know that by doing this they are actually increasing the greediness of bridegroom’s family members. I just hate these kind of parents who fulfill the demands of a boy’s

family. The underbelly of the dowry system revolves around the treatment of brides. Referred to as “bride burning”, the act of maiming or even killing brides whose family cannot or will not meet a groom’s dowry demands is a

worrying practice in India. We can find some normal heading in news papers like “Woman suicides due to abuse and tease from motherinlaw”, “Motherin law burn her daughterin law for dowry” and much more.

Government Intervention

Another flow on effect of the dowry system has been the practice of female infanticide and feticide. The birth of a daughter can be a cause of great concern for families, particularly those from poorer demographics, as they must then start to figure out how they will pay a dowry when it comes time for the daughter to marry. It is alleged that this concern leads partially to female infanticide and feticide in India, The blowout of the dowry system forced the government to take action in the middle of last century, introducing the AntiDowry Act in 1961 which outlawed the giving and receiving of dowries. After its introduction, the act received little support and was not strongly enforced, leading to a rampant and thriving illegal market for dowries.

It wasn’t until later in the twentieth century, when women’s rights groups were campaigning strongly against dowries and former Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi organized the marriage of her son without accepting a dowry from the bride’s parents, that the public really took notice, leading to an amendment of the AntiDowry Act in 1989 and public enforcement of the law. Among other initiatives, the government established an allfemale police taskforce in 1992, set up with the sole purpose of investigating dowry disputerelated abuse or deaths. There are now more than 300 of these police taskforces across the country. there is still need of some good measures ,that could eradicate Dowry Evil from our society. And Gender equalism prevails.

Measures Against Dowry

The foremost measure is correcting our thought process. Just need to understand that life that’s given by the Almighty is every one’s chance to explore there share of happiness, ‘Even for a girl’. When a girl gets married and comes to a boy’s family, she brings along celebration, her devotion, her love her care, her emotion her every little priority to his family, leaving behind all her identity. She needs to be welcomed not embarrassed. This is that treasure that just never gets empty if respected. In my opinion Young boys could play a vital role in this mission in present scenario. Just stand for no to all evil against women, be a Man, be a power to her,not a fear for her to escape from as somehow male domination is the vital cause for women exploitation, that our society takes pride of.

educated, and made independent to move in society, so that she is no more a weakness for herself. Education system at school level should be tailored, as to revive it with such material, that could build up a healthy thought process among kids (specially boys) that they foresee there female counterparts with due respect. Understand her presence on humanitarian grounds not on barbaric former values. For a country like India where a woman is worshipped as Goddess , it is shameful to see such inhuman behavior towards her identity and existence. “Thought “ is the only matter of substance that could change the society’s view. Analyze it before its too late, behave like humans.last but not the least ……………..

Also it's necessary that every girl is

“From a Girl’s Side-“ I am not an issue to be discussed, I am a life for a life to be conserved , I am a rose to adore in the garden of your heart, I am an identity to your character, I am nevertheless a power !………… It’s high time our society understands the worth of a woman in all aspects , and better make the boys learn to respect women.

Richa Dixit

Unaccompnied Baggage Vincent Van Ross Within Six months Of their wedding, Their marriage Was on the rocks! They wanted To go their ways But, The society would not Let them be. So, They are staying Under the same roofâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; Living Separate lives. Like The two sides Of the same coinâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;

They are always together But, hardly ever see each other.

Like The twin rails Of the rail tracks They run together But, hardly ever meet! On social occasions, They travel separately One following The other Like unaccompanied baggage!

Yamunai Thuraivan (India) The moment he realised he was pressing down on the break, he felt it was not a good idea. But that didn’t stop Mike from turning on the indicator and slowing down his car as he rolled down the window. “Hi, can I have a lift?” the young man asked, shouting over the howling wind. “I am kind of stranded.” Dressed in a soiled and slightly rumpled white shirt, the man looked like he was just coming out of his teens; face clearing up from the last batch of pimples and the jaw line finally starting to take shape. Sandy brown hair enveloped his face. With a rucksack thrown over his back, he looked a bit of a tramp.

Mike sat looking at the stranger, standing with the expectant smile on his face. He had been driving long and a little company, even from a stranger would be a welcome one. The interstate highway stretched on for miles before it crossed into any civilization. “Come on man, help out a brother here”, the man said stretching the smile into what he hoped was a pleasing one. Mike found himself unlocking the doors and the man jumped into the passenger seat at the back as the front was occupied by his guitar case. Mike turned back to the long road ahead as the v6

revved up pushing the car forward in a fishtail. “Hi, I am Daniel. What’s your name brother?” the man piped up from the seat. “Mike” the man behind the wheel replied curtly, throwing a glance at the rear view mirror. “Hello Mike, where are you headed to?” Where was he heading? Mike had no idea. The last 4 hours of the drive had been devoid of the usual tantrums that filled the trips. “Daddy, Daddy… Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

“You are not alive Mike. Even now, you do not get angry? Say something!” Cindy shouted. “Just take good care of her, Cindy. All the best for your new life.” “I will. Goodbye Mike. Take care.”

“Just heading over to my summer house.” Mike replied, taking a sip of the coke resting on the cup holder. “It’s the middle of October man?! the place has got to be deserted now!” Daniel exclaimed from the back seat. Mike’s reply was just a non committal nod as he drove the Honda, rolling down the driver window and letting the wind play on his hair. Riding with the wind in your hair has a purgatory feeling. The feel of peace was eluding Mike today though. “I am exploring you know. Been here and there.Just moving across the country. Now is the time, isn’t it brother?” Daniel ploughed on, his enthusiasm undaunted and the worried look on Mike’s face unheeded. “So? Where do you wanna get down?” Mike asked brusquely. “Just a few miles ahead bro, I will tell you when we reach there, by the way thanks for the ride. You are a good man.”

“You are a good man Mike, but it’s just not working out.” Well, yeah, Mike was a good man. And as Cindy always said, the only chink in his character was that he never could say no. Not even when Cindy had asked him for a divorce. He had silently accepted the fact. He had known for a while that she had been seeing someone else, but all he cared about was little Abby his angel. He never wanted her to know anything was wrong.

Mike was on his way to his only “home” now. The wind blew away the tear that flowed out, leaving behind just a wet streak. All that would be left behind is the streak A streak of vague memory. “Good night princess. I will see you in a week okay?” Mike kissed the little girl’s forehead.

“Daddy, Daddy… Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” He was such a nice guy that he had written off his entire share from the divorce on Abby’s name, to be handed over to her when she turned 18; everything except for his old car, the summer house and his guitar. And the last few grand he had left in his bank. Of course he doesn’t get the custodian rights or his visiting rights. It would be in little Abby’s hands to visit her dad if she still remembered him after she turned 18. Till then Mike would retire to the one place he had kept for himself; his summer house.

“Where are you going daddy?” Abby whispered back in a frightened voice. “I have to go off for a while princess; for my work. I will be back in a week. You take good care of mommy till then okay?” Mike whispered, hugging his most precious thing in the world.

“Are you and mommy not going to see each other anymore? She says I am getting a new daddy.” Mike stifled his mouth to keep himself from crying aloud. The little girl saw her father crying, half hidden in the dark. “I love you daddy. I will come

“I will daddy. Here” she pushed her monkey toy towards him. “Adam will give you company till you come back.”

to you as soon as I can,”she whispered back.

Mike turned, nodding, hiding his tears from his daughter.

“What?”

“Daddy?” he heard the little voice as he neared the door. “Yes honey?”

“Are you gonna let go or what bro?” Daniel’s words brought Mike back to the present.

“Those guys at the back… They have been honking for a while now, are gonna let them pass?” Daniel asked again, looking out the rear.

“Yeah… Yeah…” Mike, severed to his right, letting the Red Mustang pass by. “YOU SUCK OLD MAN!!” one of the raucous guys shouted from the speeding car, showing up his middle finger. Mike felt his face turn red, as he floored the pedal. “It’s not worth it brother.” Daniel called from behind. Mike knew he

was right and he slowed down, switching back to his old pace. He looked at the man sitting behind. That was when he realized it was a mistake pulling over for the hitchhiker. He saw the glint of a blade in Daniel’s hands; a rather big one. “What?? What is that?” Mike exclaimed, slamming the brakes. The Honda screeched to a stop suddenly.

you; who can devote all his attention to you is always unsettling. Mike hasn’t run in with any of the “psycho” lots that he kept hearing to on the news though. And, in years, he convinced himself the fear was baseless. But a 7 inch knife brings back fears long buried. He kept a wary eye on Daniel as he drove on. “It’s for the bad ones brother”, Daniel broke into Mike’s thoughts. “Huh?” “The knife; it’s for cutting out the bad oranges.” He said, holding up the fruit. “This is a good one.” he smiled. Mike forced a smile back. “What is wrong with you man? You seem too preoccupied” Daniel asked again. his rucksack. Mike couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread to have a guy with a big knife sitting behind him, having a clear shot at him. He knew nothing about the man. “Oh! Okay…” he said hesitantly. “You know what? I understand that it must have freaked you out. Would it be better if I sat next to you where you can see me? We can keep the guitar in the back..?” Daniel asked suggestively. The barren lands rolled by as they drove on, Daniel riding shotgun next to Mike, lost in his thoughts

again. But this time it was not the past that haunted him, it was the present. There are so many horror tales in the world, so many fears that one fears. But, one that Mike had always felt unnerving about is hitchhikers. It doesn’t matter if it was an old lady or a man trying to hitch a ride back into town or a teen kid who bust his tires. It is always creepy to share your vehicle with a stranger. He always felt the fear creeping up on him when he does end up helping out someone on the road. The uncertainty when you have your eyes on the road and feel totally vulnerable to the stranger next to

visits?” “My client has decided that it will be in the child’s best interest that visiting rights not to be given.” The grey suit man again piped in “The formalities…” he continued. Mike sat looking dazed. “Cindy..!!” he stammered. “Mike, we are moving to Australia by the end of the year. Abby will find it harder if we keep having visits. I think you would…” Mike stood up. He had had enough. He walked out of the office silently. “You take care of the rest of the formalities.” He said to his attorney as he walked out. “I am fine Daniel,” Mike replied tersely “Whatever brother, just chill. Can we stop by at the next gas station? These oranges! Not so good to have in travel, if you know what I mean” Daniel laughed nervously. “What is wrong with me Cindy?” “I think it’s best for all of us here if, the attorneys do the talking on behalf of our clients” the man in the grey suit spoke up, adjusting the crease on his breast pocket. “Since you have agreed to accept the divorce, we can avoid a lot of sticky processes. We still have the alimony part to discuss about…”

“She can have everything” Mike said stubbornly. “I am not a bitch Mike! Don make it look so!” Cindy snarled hotly. Mike looked on, calmly, “Cindy, I know we lost our love. I just want Abby to have the best childhood she can. I don’t care about the money. Let’s not talk about this anymore. I want nothing other than the summer house.” He told, with finality in his voice. “What about my

“Yeah sure.” Mike sat looking out the window as he waited for the man to return from the restroom. He was lost in thought. Was something really wrong with him? He didn’t know. He did his best in all he could. He tried his best to please everyone around

him. He has never got angry at anyone in life; except for now. He was angry at the one being who was responsible for all this. God! He couldn’t believe the things he has been put through. All he wanted was a happy family; a daughter he loved truly; a wife who truly loved him. No!! He doesn’t get it. Instead he is thrown out of their life like trash. Now?

All he wanted was to get to his summer house, down a few beers and sleep, for days together. That was what he wanted. And God sends a loon who just wouldn’t shut up and now, is delaying him. If he could just get his hands on that bastard, he would….. A sudden screeching sound stopped Mike's blasphemous line of thought abruptly. He looked on, stunned, as a truck rolled over and four cars slammed into it almost instantly at high speed. One of them, a red mustang, blew up with a deafening sound. Mike got out of his car as a man hurried into the store, to call the emergency hotline probably. He looked on petrified at the sight. “What happened brother?!?” a voice spoke in disbelief from behind. “There was a… a..a pileup” Mike

stammered.

is just a mile off the road it seems. See you later I guess? Thanks for “Whoa! Good thing we stopped the ride man! Live your life!” and isn’t it!?” Daniel whispered in awe, Daniel started walking away “If not, we would have been right towards the dirt road that in the middle of the pile up!” branched off near the gas station. “Yeah..” Mike still looked petrified. “Okay brother, I will get going then. The place I was looking for

It was a while before Mike came back to his senses and started off on his way, still in disbelief of how narrowly he missed his death. He sipped his now warm coke,

wetting his parched mouth just as his cell phone began to ring. “Hello?” “Hello sir is this Mike Wilson?” the voice from the other end spoke hurriedly. There was a faint sound of announcements being relayed over the speakers at the other end.

“Yes this is he” Mike spoke hesitantly. “Are you driving? Can you pull over?” the voice sounded concerned. “Yeah tell me now” Mike spoke

hurriedly as he pulled over to the side of the road. “Sir, I am afraid I have some bad news. Your wife was in an accident today. It was a headlong collision with a SUV. Could you come over to St. Sebastian

hospitals right away?” “Yes, I will be right there. Is she okay?” Mike was petrified. “We can’t give our word on anything right now sir. Please come over as soon as you can.”

EPILOGUE: “Daddy, Daddy… Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” Abby asked excited as Mike drove along. “We will be there in a while honey” he replied looking at his angel. Her left arm was in a cast. It had been a minor fracture the doctors had assured Mike. The child had escaped with just the minor fracture in her left arm. Unfortunately, the mother couldn’t be saved. Her lungs had been perforated and the damage was beyond repair. Mike hadn’t hated Cindy for what she had

done. He did miss her. He did mourn her. He still…. “Daddy!! I see our house!!” Abby squealed in joy as the old farm house came into view, with the oak tree swing, swaying in the wind. “Yes honey we are home” Mike hugged his daughter as they walked into the house, the toy monkey “Adam” hanging on to the little girl’s shoulder.

The corvette rode on the dirt road, leaving a cloud of smoke behind.

“Yo! Daniel… you wanna try this shit man?!? It’s awesome!” the guy behind the wheel blew out smoke from his mouth. With a shaggy beard and dazed eyes and the dirty clothes, he looked every bit a junkie he was. “I don’t do, Jack” Daniel replied calmly. “WTF? Carpe diem dude!! That’s the life! Carpe diem!!” Jack put out his head out the window, shouting “CARPE DIEM dudes!!!!!!”

“It’s nothing Jack. It’s for cutting out the bad oranges.” Daniel replied calmly smiling, “I am afraid this one is rotten bad.”

One Soul Anupama Dafre (Mumbai, India) Perfect costumes we wore, befitting the roles we played in the school play. Me, a princess in the flowing gown. You, a knight in the shining armour. A fight against the wicked witch for a 'happily ever after.â&#x20AC;&#x2122; Many school plays later the princess grew up without a blooming bosom The knight's broad shoulders stronger than ever before. Similar battle Same love One wicked world. Similar garb Same anatomy One soul.

Interview Of The Month

Janet wrote her first poems in an old diary where she noted her daily thoughts by the tender age of eight. This was long before journaling was in vogue. Along with her thoughts and poetry she drew what she refers to as Hippie flowers. You know, the Sixties / Seventies flower power symbol, of peace and love, which are a very important part of her consciousness today. Janet wrote her first book, in those unassuming diaries, to never be seen by the light of day due to an unfortunate house fire. This did not deter her drive. She then opted for a new batch of composition journals and filled everyone. In the early nineteen-eighties, Janet held a by-line in a small newspaper in Denton, Texas while working full time, being a Mother and attending night school. Since the early days Janet has been published in newspapers, magazines and books globally. She also has enjoyed being the feature on numerous occasions, both in magazines and radio. She has gone on to publish three books. 5 degrees to separation 2003, Passages 2012 and her latest book ,’Dancing Toward the Light’ . . . the journey continues 2013, published and available at Inner Child Press along with fine book stores everywhere. Janet P. Caldwell is also the Chief Operating Officer of Inner Child, which includes Inner Child’s Ning Social Site, Inner Child Newspaper, Inner Child Magazine, Inner Child Radio and The Inner Child Press Publishing Company.

Janet P. Caldwell Poetess, Writer, Publisher.... Interview By Iram Fatima 'Ashi' Ashi: Greetings to you ma'am ! At the outset, on behalf of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Reflection Magazineâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, I would like to thank you for accepting my request to interview you.Tell us something about the place you belong to, your childhood, education and hobbies. Janet: I grew up in Dallas, Texas, USA and I belong to Humanity, as one of service to others. My childhood was challenging, but I would not trade it for the world. There were so many valuable lessons learned; such as compassion, understanding and tolerance and acceptance. These have contributed to the loving woman that I am today. My highest level of formal education is 'some college'. However, I feel as though life's experience has been my highest and grandest teacher. My hobbies include refinishing old furniture, visiting art museums, and to the best of my ability learn of other cultures, through travel or reading. Ashi: It's really interesting to know about your life. Now please share your writing experience at the tender age of eight, may I know what inspired you to pick your pen? Janet: I was a troubled child, and escaped to nature, pen and pad. I had much to say about my own little world. It was a very cathartic experience for me. I also loved music as a child and still do. It is another form of poetry that I find self expressive.

Ashi: Nice to know about your love for music and poetry. You are into publishing job and a blessed mom please share how you managed your job with poetry writing? Janet: In the early 1980's I worked a full time job, wrote a weekly article for a local newspaper, attended night school and was raising my son, with the help of his Father, who did not live with me. I suppose that I learned to 'juggle' my time and responsibilities. I also have a daughter which came 3 years after my son and college. I continued to work as a Certified Optician in the State of Texas, writing poetry in my spare time. Ashi: Ah! You are really hard working Iron Lady, inspiration for so many. Kindly tell something about any other hobby of yours. Janet: I love to do volunteer work, and have done so, at The Denton State School, Lufkin State School, Angels Incorporated, The AIDS resource Center in Dallas, many soup kitchens and clothes drives for the homeless to name a few. All are geared toward giving back to humanity. Ashi: It's pleasure to know about your social work. However, poetry is a medium to express one’s inner feelings. Is there any specific moment or event that made you write? Janet: Again, it started with my childhood in an old diary. The most personal poem for me, that I have written to this day, is on the death of my brother Michael. He died at the age of Thirty – One, I was Twenty – One. He was my best friend and my ' Father Figure ' also my son's namesake, at the time, I was not sure that I would ever heal.

Ashi: I am sorry to remind that. What is your favourite topic to write on? And do you have a specific writing style? Janet: These days my passions include self love, personal growth / self reflection, Global Peace and Healing. When I dare to complain, I stop to examine why, not engaging but observing the thought. Life IS Grand, all around us, should we choose to see it this way. I do. It's all in our perception / perspective. So, self correction in thought has been my goal and what I write about a lot.

Ashi: Very interesting! Would you like to share something about your personal life with our readers to know you more closely? Janet: Like most artists, I am a very sensitive person, and at times cry too easily. Ashi: Almost all artists are like this. Who is your favourite writer/poet? Janet: I have many, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath, for their use of metaphors and similes. William S. Peters, Sr., for his extensive use of language, clarity and the message, to name a few. Ashi: When did your first poem/story/novel get published? Please share your feeling of that moment. Janet: My first articles were published in a local Print Newspaper and I was ecstatic to be chosen. Since this time, I have three books that have been published, more in the works, poems and articles that have been featured Globally in many magazines, and being a featured guest on radio. Every book is like giving birth to a glorious child and celebrated. Ashi: Very well said. According to you, what are the most important elements of good writing? Janet: Content, Construct and Clarity.

Ashi: Did you always have full appreciation and support for your talent in writing? Janet: I would say yes, I cannot complain. Ashi: According to you, which poem of yours is your masterpiece? Janet: I do not rate my poems as such. They all have significant meaning to me, just as my two children, Michael and Summer.

Ashi: Would you like to share any of your poems close to your heart? Janet: For the sake of saving space, I would advise going to my website, search for '12th of Never' (about my Brother ) and the newest ones where I am expanding my inner – child OR allowing “her” to shine again. http://www.janetcaldwell.com/ Ashi: What is the best thing about being a poetess, writer and publisher? Janet: To help others. Ashi: That's great; please tell about your future plans? Janet: To continue my path of service, wherever it may lead.

Ashi: What advice would you give your contemporary writers and poets? Janet: Read, Read, Read and NEVER give up. Ashi: Reading is really essential part of writing. Kindly give your valuable views on our magazine â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Reflectionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; for improvement. Janet: You are doing a great service for humanity. Keep it up. Ashi : Thank you to share your true words of wisdom in the literary field and making this interview a stimulating one. The budding writers are sure to draw nourishment from the radiance of your spirit and your gracious advice would boost up their enthusiasm to create marvels from their pens. Thank you!

Responsibility cannot shirk Sangeeta Ajay (India)

I asked for her and he blessed me with him… The yearn remained, Bringing up two boys is hard but not as hard, The thought of protecting her if I would have had one… Am I spared or am I prepared? What would I do and how would I? Puzzle with a twist, missing links and missing parts. Over powering prowlers out there would have made my life hard, Constant fear of dangerous alleys and corners looming large, Dirty stares would make my doll backtrack… Seeing her perturbed would sink my heart, Minutes would seem hours with her being late by a few seconds. How would have I dealt with all this? I wonder! …Am I spared? No! My responsibility is large, For … I have to groom those, of whom the womanhood is scared of now,

Yes…. My Sons…Trish and Shaan… Have to groom them to be gentlemen, Men, who know how, handle the most beautiful creation of God with grace, How to hold her dignity at prime, To ensure that no words which can degrade her repute to escape their lips, Teach them to use their masculine frames as protectors rather than predators, Large hands to engrave a safe path for their delicate steps, Sharp minds to make a world of flowery blossoming thoughts, Oh! My Trish and My Shaan. Make a world, which I as a mother can feel would be safe, To bring my daughters in law to walk into… Yours are the lives which are to bring them security with sensitivity, Your existence should make their life bright, They would wake up to look onto a face full of love, Your arms to give them warmth in hours of despair, The eyes to be mirrors to reflect their fears onto… In all words and actions you both to… Handle them with care. For both of you my children, Important to remember is the fact that …. Your ‘Mom’ too had been a soft target as a girl… She too had her share of fears and stares …. She too prayed for a safe world, Bring a stop and change the scene! Make life worth living and looking forward to for these ANGELS….

Sham of equality in society Dr. Ruchida Barman (Jaipur, India) The other day in my class I was thinking of giving a topic to my students for practicing Group Discussions. I suddenly lighted upon a very interesting one: "Should men also wear MANGLASUTRA" (A Manglasutra is a necklace made up of black beads in gold or silver and is put around the neck of the bride by the groom during the marriage rituals. It is supposed to be a holy symbol of marriage and is considered to be very auspicious. Married women in Hindu religion have to wear that as a symbol of 'married one', they have to apply red colour sindur on their head and bindi on forehead to show marriage symbol).

The expression on the students face opened up the whole sham behind the talk of equality in Society. It seemed they could not digest this idea of seeing men in Manglasutras. I pretended I did not understand what was going on in their mind and after a couple of minutes asked them if they were ready for the discussion. The answer was “no ma’am”. On asking them why, what was the problem? Out came the dilemma, “Ma’am its an absurd Idea. Why should Men wear Manglasutra?” When I explained that this is a symbolic way of asking about equality. They had a strange smile on their face. Amazingly, even the girls in the class could not accept

this idea. This brought back to my memory what I had once read during my research work, “Women are the worst enemies of women.” We often say that our society is a male dominated society, where women have no freedom. This is a status quo which has existed for long, and who may I ask ensures that it remains so. Not the men but women. Talking of men and women brings us to the fact that they are what a society is comprised of. So, how does the dictionary define Society, it is defined as:“ The aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered community.” If we pay attention the definition says

people and people means both men and women then it should be an ordered community, and this is where the whole controversy arises. Reading and hearing about the way women are being treated

these days is something that makes us ashamed. We possibly can not call ourselves ordered when one half of the society is so much unjustifiably treated. The problem is very deep rooted.

Right from our cradles the roles of the men and women are decided by the family. Boys are made to play with cars and balls while girls with dolls. Why donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t we let them choose on their own what they

want to play with? If the girls want to do anything different from the path set by the norms of the society they have to fight, they have to struggle. While boys don’t have to. Is this Equality? I teach in an engineering college and it is painful to see the girls in a minority here because engineering is considered to be a profession fit for boys while we see the girls are in majority in degree colleges. Not that there is any issue with degree colleges but the problem lies with the mindset of the people who think that women have no place in the professional world. Time and again, girls have proven themselves better than boys. Be it in the results, be it in any field that they have undertaken. Even at

home the way they handle home effectively can boys ever do that? Give them one day to handle the house and the whole system goes haywire. On the other hand turn the tables let things be vice versa and women can prove themselves efficient in the professional world of their husbands. Coming back to the discussion in the class, all the boys agreed that if women need to display the fact of their being married then men should also do so. But again the question arises to whom after all this need to be displayed? Obviously to the rest of the men. And then came the suggestion that even women need not wear anything to show that they are married.

I now raised the question to the group that have you ever questioned this at home? Did you ever ask your moms or sisters or sisters –in law in the family that why did they wear the Mangalsutra? Why not? Why do we accept things silently? Why do we not question? We being educated and enlightened why don’t we dare to be the first ones? Now came the light of enlightenment on the faces of the class. I too had a smile on my face. I had planted a seed and could see the promise of it growing and taking roots and making the coming generation more aware and scientific and rational in their approach to life. I felt happy.

Cherry Street Girl Charles Darnell (San Antonio, Texas)

“Hey sweet thing, want to date? Feeling bad? I’ll make it straight. In your car or in your bed, You’ll get you treat if you got the bread.” Standing around, displaying her wares, Watching for cops and getting the stares, She croons the Johns in nervous flight, Draws them near, like moths to light. “Tell me what you want to try, Your secret wish, now don’t be shy.” She leans to him so she can hear, Knowing smiles ally his fears. On the corner she smiles again At someone else she can befriend, And as the nights, the years go by, Her smile still hides the muffled cry.

Sizzling Change in New Year Diwakar Pokhriyal (Delhi, India)

A voice woke me up. That was the utensils used by rats as bell. Hey Mom where are you?” I shouted. But I didn’t get the reply. So I got up and after freshening up I sat on my bed. My mom was scheduled to come back home in the morning of New Year. The clock was showing 11:00 AM. “Oh it’s too early to wake up? Today is 1st January, but where is Mom” I thought. Surely it was early for me. I used to sleep at 5 AM and wake up at 1:00 PM. There is something strange I could sense about the day. What’s different? Yesterday it was Sunday and today it’s Mon..…. Means it’s still old year? My eyes struck to my mobile watch and it was showing Sunday. “What? Is it a reality?” I was so ecstatic. In disbelief I switched on the television and confirmed the day. “Oh it’s great” I was unable to resist my smile. Oh, that’s why my mom didn’t come today? I thought of going out for a walk to enjoy the warmth of the sun. So I took my jacket and locked my room. When I was walking through the street, the sun was all over the city. The atmosphere was so enticing that everyone wants to take a walk through it. “I never felt like this before” I thought. There is something strange about today. My lips weren’t able to control my smile. My heart was feeling so fresh. “What’s good about this day? Till tomorrow there will be pollution, blame games and crimes. But today atmosphere is so quiet and refreshing?”I was thinking and walking, walking and thinking. I was looking around and was surprised to see that in every 500

meter distance there were garbage bins. The positions of them were made in such a manner that most of them fell near any shop and in places where the probability of throwing things was more. I continued my walk in such thoughts. “Who might have put these bins? I never saw them before, from where they did they suddenly appear?”. As I was walking continuously, I heard a loud voice of a lady. “It seems I am about to reach the

ground where protestors would be there. But if protestors would be there then where are the policemen?” I thought in amazement. “Suddenly the government started believing in the people or it’s a fluke.” Thinking in this line I reached the place of protestors. I looked towards the protestors and was about to fall down in sheer disbelieve. There were three groups of protestors sitting in different corners of the park. I was looking for the message boards

and more. But to my amazement there were only three message boards and they were identical. I went near to see the boards and they were reading as – “Listen to our inner voices not outer choices”. “We are prepared to talk. Are you?” Now those were some strong words I believed. If somebody is writing such words then it means they are ready with their preparation. “Are they really ready?” I thought and then stood. My eyes went towards one group of protestors. All of them were girls of different age groups, from students to politicians, from reporters to business women. I was surprised at the fact that how politicians can sit without security. But nevertheless I went few steps ahead to take a deeper look at the situation. I saw one lady standing and pointing something at a projector. “This can’t be a protest. This is not the way we do it here. Here we blame others with provocative lines and banners. We try to project self as weak and fight with police” I thought. All other girls/ ladies were sitting and they were having a pen and notebook on their hands. Are they taking

notes or what? I went two steps closer to the projector and was surprised at the sight of it. The projector was projecting something like this: Problem Crime against women Probable solutions : • Self defence • Don't lie • Love not lust • Don't accept nudity • Freedom not foolishness The solution wasn’t just written forcefully, but the lady who was standing there was just accepting the solution from everyone and then discussing on it. For the first time I was literally so astonished that I wanted to clap for it. “Yes, they are those people who are united together to solve the issue” I said and was about to take a turn. The lady standing close to the projector called me. “Hello Sir” She said. “Who? Me?” I was a bit surprised and I looked at her. “Yes Sir, I am talking to you” She said. “Yes Ma’m” I said. “Sir as you can see that we are discussing about a serious problem,I would like you to add something in our solution box so that we can help our daughters, sisters, mothers and colleagues” She said with a smile.

“Yes surely ma’m” I said and wrote one solution from my side “Make public places and public transports public by using security cameras”. “Thank you very much” She said and then continued with her discussion with all those girls. I started walking out of the park and was stunned at what happened with me. “I will never see such things till tomorrow” I was in utter disbelief. These things don’t happen in our country. There are so many people who are always ready to fight. People don’t listen to other’s solution but only want to implement what they think is right. Such ways of solving problems I have seen in management colleges only or in few companies. First time in my life I have seen such a thing happening so openly and without any misbehavior. I was still walking and as I reached a tea stall I took a halt. I ordered one tea and sat on the chair. While sipping the tea I started looking towards the other side of the road. My eyes struck to a board. That board was reading as: “Let’s play with creativity” I never saw such institute/school before. From where does it come? There was used to be a Govt. school. But nevertheless the title – “Let’s play with creativity” took my attention and after finishing my tea I went towards that place. I reached near the gate and the gate keeper opened it with a smile. “You can take a walk in Sir; do you want me to accompany you?” He said with a smile.

“Yes sure” I smiled and started walking inside. My eyes struck the board which was divided into two parts. One side was dedicated to arts and literature and other was for music. “Sir this is the home of creativity where students are not taken by virtue of money and certificates but they are taken by virtue of their interest” The gatekeeper said with a smile. “Really?” I was a bit surprised. My eyes were constantly wandering through the place. There were no set patterns or arrangements of seats. It was a park with all green grasses and trees. Students were sitting in groups, few were alone on grasses and few were standing and wandering. “Where are the teachers ?” I enquired. “Teachers are inside the classrooms. They only use class room for subjects like music theory, literature theory. For

students who want to be an artist or a literary gem, the teacher only gives them a topic and then they are free to sit anywhere in the campus to complete their work. The time limit is there, but no boundary” He said. I was still hypnotized to the soothing atmosphere. There were students of different age groups. Few were sitting under the tree and writing; few were sitting in front of a bench and drawing. No one was fighting with each other but they were busy in writing/painting and more. And adding to my curiosity, I can listen to some soothing music of piano and guitar. “What’s this sound “I asked. “This sound is coming from other half, where music is life and students practice like their religion. Again there is no barrier of classrooms. They are free to use the instruments and can practice anywhere” He said I surprisingly looked at his face. “Nobody steals anything here?” I asked in disbelief. “Sir, People steal when they are blind with lust and greed. Here students are blinded with faith and lust of learning. These people don’t steal” He added with a serious mood. He actually spoke very true words. I was amazed and also happy to see that he really knows much more than I do and most importantly believe in it. While walking towards the second half the chorus was increasing. The instruments were raising the true voice of creativity and humanity. “Wow! what an atmosphere” My mind was concluding. “Sir the amazing thing is that we also have a small school here which provides the basic necessary knowledge of concepts of academics,” He added “Wow! what a great school” I exclaimed. I never wanted to go

back but had no choice. “Thank you for your time” I said to the gatekeeper. “My pleasure sir,” He said with a smile. I was walking back towards my home and was utterly in disbelief of whatever I witnessed. As I walked suddenly there was an accident. The victim was lying on the road. I started running towards him, but till then few cars have stopped and two men have loaded him to their car for a ride to hospital. There was no fight or running away. Even the one who was responsible for the accident was taking the victim to hospital instead of running away. I was awestruck at this point of time. “How the world became so nice!” I was murmuring. My state of mind was in utter disbelief. I enter into a mall for having food and was again amazed at the sight; there were couples, friends sitting. But nobody was hugging/kissing each other. They were chatting, laughing, giving high fives to each other and playing pranks. I was shocked to see this and then I went inside, there were school and college couples but they were also not hugging cozily forever, just sitting and chatting to each other with constant smiles and lovely expressions. While going towards the food court on the top floor, suddenly my phone rang. I picked up the phone but it got disconnected. So I put it back and took a seat close to the glass window and ordered one pizza. My eyes again crossed the glasses and reached the grasses of the lawn. One young couple was sitting there. The girl was resting on ground with her head resting on

boy’s lap. “Now they will kiss each other” I thought while looking at them and eating my pizza. And they kissed but I was surprised looking at it. The boy kissed the girl on her cheeks and that too just for a second. And after that they kept on talking to each other. The boy was constantly playing with her hairs and she was continuing her talk. It was the first time when I really wanted to see someone in love. I literally smiled looking at them as it made me remember my own sweetheart. After finishing my pizza I came out of the Mall. I was totally confused and stunned at the change I saw around me. “But in one day how can it be?” I asked myself. I never saw that school before and also never observed such serene atmosphere. What is all this? I was completely confused. I closed my eyes to connect with God. For few seconds I went to silence.

“Wake up son, its New year” My mom said with a smile. “What?” I opened my eyes. I was on my bed, inside my blanket. “Happy new year son” My mom hugged me. “Same to you, Mom” I smiled I got up from the bed and stood near the window. I open the window and I can clearly see there were no dustbins, no such soothing atmosphere. But those pictures were still repeating continually inside my mind, I could see those pictures in front of my eyes but not as reality. “Can we create such an atmosphere? Let’s hope for the better future and create a masterpiece this New Year” I was thinking looking at the moving vehicles from the road. “Can we bring this Sizzling Change which I witnessed in my dream?” I thought, smiled and closed the window.

The Darkness Raven snow (Jordan) The darkness is the only thing that remains The only thing that's eternal . The only thing we can wake up every morning expecting The one truth. Don't forget all the promises Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t believe in all their lies Don't give up your right to be you. The way they want you to. Just look up to the sky And look up to those little lights. The stars that defy all you need to squint in order to see them But with their sight you get a shot of euphrasy. Happiness like no other A hope the spreads all around your soul As you realize they belong to none They are themselves and nobody can claim them. Nobody can have them They are universal . No matter what corruption surrounds them They still shine. A ball of gasses blasting away To infinity and beyond as they used to say. Light years apart but their light still glows Illuminating the night. We have all come to know With a strength like no other. They'll reach you Into the deepest pit this earth can muster Into the lowest point in our seas . The stars shine for you Telling you it's alright you will burn but if you use the heat well Then you will be amongst us. A brother of the beings that never fail Blinding whoever gets to close Sacrificing our joy for others That is our curse This is our lie. Everything needs a sacrifice The universe needs its price To be majestic you stand alone Grouped with others that have taken your choice. But forced to carry the burden of a heart made of stone Together and lonely that's what we'll be Stars in the night But always out of sight of those we want to see.

Social Distance Iram Fatima ‘Ashi’ (Saudi Arabia, NRI)

(Transfer from one place to another is always a matter of excitement for me. But this time the sadness of leaving West Bengal, over powered my excitement. I have not been able to forget the tearful eyes of all my friends and neighbors who came to say their good bye while leaving West Bengal) After a long travel while entering into the border of Rajasthan I was amazed to see the golden brown colored huge rally of beautiful sand dunes both side of roads which seemed like huge mountains of gold poured from sky. Vegetation was only in the form of cactus plants and huge trees of babul (acacia nilotica) with thorns, with limited shadow for resting. People with colorful clothes are pleasure to watch. Ladies in bright colored dress ‘GhagraCholies’ ( one of Indian dress like long skirt and short top) with bright colored ‘odani’ ( a long fine wrapping cloth, which women wear to cover their head and use as veil on face, they was wearing traditional silver jewellery in their upper arm called ‘chura’, thick bangles in wrist, a round necklace, heavy anklets and ‘bodla’ ( round shaped jewellery wore on forehead) on their forehead which was adding charm to their innocent beauty. Gents in DhotiKurta (long Wrapping cloths wore by men with shirt) with Pagri (turban), sitting under the huge shrubs of kikar (a tree with thorns, found generally in Rajasthan area) smoking hookah pipe (Marra pipe) and some are playing cards. Camels pulling loaded carts and sand all over the areas were totally new scene for my eyes. On seeing beauty and colors all over, I understood that why Rajasthan is known as “Rangelo Rajisthan” (an Indian state of colors). The only thing that was hard to bear was sunny day in the month of May! We realized that our stock of water is totally finished, the thirst of summer makes us search for drinking water. Soon we saw a well very far from the main road, we parked our car at the side and went near that with our empty water bottle. But we were surprised when villagers standing nearby asked our religion, caste and region and refused to give water to us because we were different from them. I was very sad not because of thirst but for their rudeness and attitude towards us and suddenly my colorful experience became faded over this differences between similar human beings in the name of religion, caste region etc.

Although I had spent seven important years of my life in Rajasthan and met many different people who showered their love and blessings on me and still are in my touch as we have become everlasting friends and more than my family members but that incident is still fresh in my mind and always forces me to think it over that how and why such type of incidents take place? Why some humanbeings feel superior or inferior to others? And is it correct to feel this difference for others, even when we are similar to each other and have been made by the same almighty? In India we see the mixed culture going on over the centuries but after a close look we can see clearly that we all are divided into different groups and there is a social distance between different groups in the name of religion, caste, state, society, color, culture etc. And this is not only in India but it happens all over the world. Racism is one of the ugliest faces of our planet which includes discriminatory behaviors and beliefs based on cultural, national, ethnic, caste, or religious stereotypes. Let us try to find out why this social distance and what are the true reasons behind it. A sociologist stated that “Social distance is dealing with the observed fact that the relative intimacy and understanding between members of given group and other group vary.” A famous sociologist Park (1923) says “The idea of gradation of one group and its values vary with respect to those of other group”. The psychological reasons behind social distance for instance ‘attitude’, which is a specific mental state of the individual towards something according to which his behavior is molded. For example attitudes of the Hindus and other communities are different towards cow slaughter, because of their myths. The a attitude that human races have distinctive characteristics which determine their respective cultures, usually involving the idea that one’s own race is superior and has the right to rule or dominate others. We can also define attitude as a ‘mental or neutral set’ of readiness, system or disposition in which the motivational effective and perceptual thought processes are included and due to which the individual’s positive or negative activity is directed to the objects, individuals and groups surroundings. Racism is a type of cancer in this world which is existed though out human history. It may be defined as the hatred of one person by another or the belief that another person

is less than human because of skin color, language, customs, and place of birth or any factor that supposedly reveals the basic nature of that person. It has influenced wars, slavery, the formation of nations, and legal codes. During the past years, racism on the part of western powers towards non westerners has had a far more significant impact on history than any other form of racism (such as racism among Western groups or among Easterners, such as Asians, Africans, and others). The most notorious example of racism by the West has been slavery, particularly the enslavement of Africans in the New World (slavery itself dates back thousands of years). This enslavement was accomplished because of the racist belief that Black Africans were less fully human than white Europeans and their descendants ‘Prejudice’ can be said to be another psychological reason which is preconceived attitude towards some subject or some individual. The world prejudice denotes the activity of formulating an opinion concerning something without any attempt at investigation to find out its true nature evidently. Prejudices are improper and unintelligent. James Drever says, ‘Prejudice is an attitude usually with an emotional coloring, hostile to, or in favor of action or object of a certain kind, certain persons and certain doctrines.’ In this definition prejudice has been shown to be an attitude joined to which is some emotion. For example – People belong to higher castes or status looks down on those who belong to lower castes or status. Prejudice has been described as the attitude and believes of an individual or a group towards an object, either favorable or hostile. Racial prejudice is an excellent example of it. A person can be having psychological factors on being prejudiced like ‘abnormal personality’, for example In communal riots the abnormal tendencies of individual are expressed in the form of aggression or pugnacity, whatever the argument he puts forward to justify his behavior. Many kinds of mental diseases are also the cause of prejudice. For example A person affected by ‘Paranoia’ tends to look upon all those surrounding him as his enemies. ‘Personal frustration’ can be one of the reasons for prejudice because every individual has many kinds of physical and psychological needs and if they are not satisfied, they become frustrated and this frustration is manifested in the

form of hatred, disgust, pugnacity etc. Maladjustment is also one of the reasons because every individual wishes to acquire perfect adjustment between himself, his circumstances and the other individuals in society. As a result of many causes, mental complexes of various different kinds are formed in them. Their life becomes marked by discontent and hopelessness. They also fail to sublimate their antisocial tendencies. Hence, they become possessed with tendencies of hatred, fear, disgust etc, for other individuals and groups and as a further consequence of it; they form all kinds of prejudices. ‘Self defense’ is also one of the reasons because every individual wants to protect himself and his ego. If it is injured he reacts violently. In this reaction the develops emotions of hatred, disgust etc, for the individual or group that is responsible for his injury and consequently forms all kinds of prejudices concerning them. All individuals want to maintain their self respect and regard. ‘Social conformity’ is another reason because in every society some customs, laws, superstitions, notions etc are prevalent. In this desire for ‘social conformity’ the individual accepts these without reflecting upon them and adopts them in the form of prejudices. One very important cause of prejudice is learning. The individual often learns or acquires his prejudice from society. For example The children of Hindu family learn prejudice from his parents as he matures and a white child learns to keep distance from black on the bases of color. Some social factors are also responsible for social distance. In every society different groups possess specific status within the social strata. Some are higher and other is at lower level. These social statuses are separated by proper social distance. To take example of Brahmins (a caste in Hinduism) are believed to possess the highest and Shudras (a caste in Hinduism) the lowest status in the social stratification of the Hindu society. The social distance between these social caste is so great that Brahmin look upon the Shudras as lowly and impure creatures. If a Brahmin child or man touches the child of some Shudra the former is given bath to rid him of the supposed defilement caused by his touch.

Cultural difference can be said to be another social factor because every individual regards his own culture as the most superior and regards every other culture as inferior by virtue of its being different from his own. In this way, the distance between different individuals influenced by different cultures increases because there is no meeting point between the two. This distance ultimately assumes the form of hatred and develops prejudices against each other. Many groups are characterized by taboos and restrictions upon mutual behavior between the individuals for example among the Hindus a person of a particular caste is not permitted to marry someone belonging to a different caste.There are some social circumstances and social phenomena that cause the formation of certain prejudices for example Communal tensions not only cause communal riots and conflicts but also prejudices in the minds of Hindus, Muslim, Sikhs and so on. After discussing psychological and social factors behind social distance, how can we ignore political factors which are made or produced with planning for citizens, under divide and rule policy and these type of differences are made with the help of professional criminals by creating riots in the name of religion, caste, region, color, country etc by giving controversial speeches by providing special facilities or reservation in the name of caste or by providing special facilities to any particular group or country. Due to all this the illiterate or innocent people become puppets in the hands of our so called politicians or powerful countries. And this all occurs just to gain personal power and profit. All of these arguments are based on a false understanding of race; in fact, contemporary scientists are not agreed on whether race is a valid way to classify people. What may seem to be significant "racial" differences to some people skin color, hair, facial shape are not of much scientific significance. In fact, genetic differences within a socalled race may be greater than those between races. There is need to think broadly by coming out from the boundaries of different groups in the name of humanity, love, equality, brotherhood etc. A friendly atmosphere will unite us for the successful journey in twenty first century and remove this black spot of ‘Social Distance’ from the

face of our beautiful world. Come let us try to overcome these psychological, social and political factors that are prevalent in our society, country and world or are created with planning to divide us in the name of region, religion, caste, culture, group, country etc. We must promise to end this social distance by creating friendly atmosphere and living together with love by exchanging different types of cultures by conducting sports, cultural programs, arranging feasts with different people belongs to different class, religion, region, caste and countries.

Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

To you my darling love Jaffer Safwan (Saudi Arabia) Have you watched a flower? Drenched with the morningâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s dew Spreading its colorful petals As I spread my arms around you? Have you listened to the chirping of a bird? On a rainy day And your heart throbs with love As my soul pulsates with love for you? Have you felt the warmth of loving? In the recesses of your heart And in your veins As I feel the flame of loving you? Have you had sleepless nights? Wondering about me Gazing at the twinkling stars As I wonder every night about you? Have you kissed me and no one else? With love and With passionate longing As I kiss nobody but you? I write you this poem from a foreign land To tell you how much I care To tell you I love you today More than I could ever dare.

A Warrior Woman Kalpana Shah (India) There she stands in a midnight light on a corner of a street where every passing car can see. A screeching sound! Halt! No sooner it vanishes not a single man to see. A faint cry, she weeps within her heart, within her soul, she dies every moment for no one to see. She dares to bear, her body so weary, for children whom God gave to care. Oh! How beautiful is she, For the people all can think Hurt pain and death that she fares no respected soul will ever dare. Yet within herself very much aware For her conscience how pure it reigns A lady so supreme in the eyes of God, A war she fights with a mind so bold, Just for her poor little souls. Yes, she is the one â&#x20AC;&#x153;A warrior womanâ&#x20AC;? fighting on her own, A woman whom the world hates!

Story Of Nobody Arie (India)

India. 9.10am. A busy metropolitan bus stop.The crowd in such a place is needless to say;bunches of people like mayflies at dusk surrounding an oil lamp—uneven, strewn in random, with no definite formation—that even Wall Street might fail to compete with. The alwayslukewarm weather, all out of a sudden, became unbearably scorching even in that very morning hour. A few collegegoers, both male and female, stood in an aberrational fashion under an old, almostdead tree. They stood in flocks like birds of the same

feather. The congregation would contain, at least, 20 of them. The population was being shared, almost, equally by boys and girls—an almost rare sight to see in a country that has low boytogirl ratio—or, at least, in public, as girls, in most of the traditional families, were brought up in senseless restriction to be always indoors, and least encouraged to go out. While most regions of the nation had got rid of such discriminatory practices, there are, indeed, a few which still enjoy entertaining the “genderly” injustice. Dark rooms such are, having none to light a candle in there; and resistant to light, too,

they are, that even if someone comes to light, they won’t permit them in. The girls were not very modern and all are wearing churidhars* which is the only dress allowed by the college management. They all are having a bag that runs diagonally left to right—a strap from their left shoulder through the bosom up to right hip, when seen from front. The bag was hung, being par to their rear. They wore the same type of bags in the same preset way as if it too is their uniform. Ripples of laughter rose high suppressing the engine roars, often. More than are they

interested in getting their bus, it seemed that they are engaged in speaking of and mocking their opposite (maybe ‘opponent’) sex. The boys, who stood a few feet away from the bevy, were also engaged in the same—a few boasting of their ‘adventures’ and laughing unnecessarily in higher decibels, speaking hoarsely in order to attract their opponents’ attraction. Though the opponents are mutually aware of each other’s motives, both the sides maintained as if being ignorant of it, and feigned as if brushing aside the other side. A few boys had bags and a few others had only a single bound long size notebook in their hands. A few girls who had no bag had with them a few notebooks, and they, in addition to the stationery, had a cell phone added to their possessions. A few corporate workers stood in their perfect ‘suits’: the

dress code for identifying the enslaved. They, a few years back, would have stood the same way as of the collegegoers, separated from other gender, but now both the sexes—presumably, their co workers—stand together. An inner exhortation to show off to the outside world that they are not as silly as those kids, and that they are cultured and modern. Standing a few feet in front of the actual bus stop and blocking a certain width of the road, they threw their gazes in widespread angles, shrinking their visages seeing certain set of people as if they have come from mars. Under the bus stop roof stood a few officegoers whose faces were laden with sneer, which made their face further black; a few housewives (who hate to be called so, and preferred to be called ‘homemakers’) carrying a bag of vegetables; a few school

children—like donkeys—stood carrying their book load in their backs; and, finally, a few who won’t fall under any one of the aforesaid categories shared the space, being irritated by the clouds of all other categories! Then came this man. He was filthy. It would have been, at least, as per one of the corporate girls’ mind voice, six months since he took bath. He carried with him a bag—a jolnapai (a kind of bag that runs loose and has no means of adjusting length). The bag was spangled with twice the filth that he was loaded with, that it was veiled with a black cover, concealing its “true colours.”—not like humans who conceal their “true colours” intentionally,the bag’s is unintentional, the reason being the ignorance and carelessness of the man who possessed it. A man who doesn’t care of his own dirt, will he be

caring the dirt load of a mere lifeless being? After analysing all these features only, a school girl of approximately 13 or 14 saw that one of his black worn out shirt sleeve was floating in air. Oh! He has no hand! She quickly tried to find out which hand it was and said to herself ‘left.’ She thought that losing left was less cruel than losing right. She refused to agree

that losing either is cruel. He came and sat at the middle of all—in between the decaying tree and the bus stand roof. He sat just like that. An empty stare fell on him being released by a housewife. He started groping into his unkempt grey hair. A college girl who went astray from their conversations (!) eyed him narrowly and thought that his hair would be an abode

for a thousand snakes. What an irrational thought! A few cars came to a halt before the tree and picked up few of their fellow college mates—the rich friends picking up the middle class friends. To own a car in India, is, unlike in other countries, an affluence. Each of the cars saw the poor man with aversion and internally, as it were, the pistons cried to get out of his sight

at the earliest, though this man doesn’t give a speck of interest to its cursed life—a life where you have to run continuously. You’ll be blown away, and there is your enemy named ‘crankshaft’ who will send you back (technically, to Top Dead Centre, called TDC) again to receive another whip. A life full of lashes! Allowed only up and down, enslaved inside a cylinder. Nowhere to escape! Pity you, piston! The man had his folded skin turn black with muck which is not his originality. One college guy wondered how easily had he attracted the attention of his ‘opponents,’ which he himself has been trying in vain for years! He refused to see the man’s misfortune living. All that danced before his mind is the guy attracting everyone’s interest, especially that of the girls’. He is not aware that it is not an “interest.” All this said, the man who is projected to be a beggar, though he doesn’t ask anyone anything, sat calmly, with inner piece, unaware of every eyes being set on him. Bath not, wash not your clothes and comb not your hair for a fortnight and you too will be a “projected” beggar. Maybe he’s a saadhu (yogi)—the thought progress of a middle aged woman who will fall under the category of no category. Then a man came, possibly an officegoer, who was, presumably, late for work. He was running from quite a distance towards a bus that was halted in the bus stop to be replenished

with passengers. The bus roared and it was evident that it was about to get away. He increased his speed. All eyes, other than of those who lined up to get in, were on him. A shift in interest. How wavering are human attentions! For a few days our attention will be on our neighbour’s newly

bought bike, then will be on a friend’s birthday gift, then on a handsome one, then on our accelerating hair loss, then on, then on... The bus started. A few souls prayed for him to get the bus. The bus cruised (at least, it will try to, for, in a metropolis, the word “cruise” is but an incongruity) Oh! The man criss

crossed his legs and started to tumble! There he went on rolling. Oh, at least, a five or six rolls. He came to a halt before the tree. The college girls took a foot aback yelling out ‘Yikes! Hey! Oh!’ and similar sorts of sounds. Everyone stared at the unfortunate event. The bus went away with the curious look of those who stood in the last rung of the threerung footboard. Everyone just set out their vision on the man on street. The two wheelers just curved around him and went. His dress got torn at a few pieces irregularly. Isn’t it absurdity to expect a set pattern from a dress getting torn? The beggar,on seeing it, immediately ran to his rescue and caught the man on road with his only one hand. During the act, his jolna slipped out of his shoulder. He didn’t care. The man who regained his feet stood eyetoeye with the beggar and gave a panoramic view about all those who stared at them—unaffected, and suffused with “I don’t care” attitude. Then he saw again the beggar and found love, care, sympathy, empathy, and divinity—all in a filthy man’s shrunk eyes. He didn’t feel repugnant.The reflex to aid in one’s need is what distinguishes us from beasts. Clothed beasts stared back at the duo.

What it's like Bhanu Mannava (India)

What it's like? Owning a person, Who is rude to the world And soft only to you. Who is hard as stone, to others And fragile only to you. Who puts away the crowd Only to stay with you! Whose anger is as fierce as the flames But cools just by your smile. Who cannot be stopped But stands still by your glance. Who keeps away the world Only for you to be his world! Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s like the feeling of eternity, you need not turn back Or take a moment, you can just rely upon.

Under 15 Zone

I love Yummy Chocolate Anam Arefeen (11 years) [Saudi Arabia, NRI] I love yummy chocolate, Browny, crispy, creamy, tasty, With crunch, munch, Silk, soft, cream, taste. I love to distribute on my birthday, Enjoy it, whether Sunday or Monday, Sharing adds more taste, I love yummy chocolate.

Novel Section

Cry from Inside Summary for novella Lisa Ayers (US) I have worked directly with individuals with developmental disabilities. I have also researched actual practices and attitudes of how people with developmentally disabled were treated throughout history. I combined my fictional characters and settings with my research to compose this novella. My purpose is to provide stability for people with developmental disabilities and to raise awareness and remove the negative stigma surrounding them. Janet was born with a developmental disability. Like many others throughout history, she was shunned, hidden and locked away from society. Her older sister Jennifer cannot comprehend why. She loves Janet and wants to be with her. Jenniferâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey to be with her sister uncovers the harsh reality that people with developmental disabilities were exposed to throughout history. Can Jennifer help and make a difference for Janet and the others? Can she break the barriers and the negative stigma that have been attached to them throughout decades? Link of Novella: http://www.booksie.com/other/novel/lisa_ayers/cryÂfromÂinside/chapter/1

Art Section

Women Paintings By R. K. Verma

When we decided to do this, 'social problems,' issue I asked Mr. Verma to paint something different from his previous published women series. He pondered over this matter for a few days and finally he painted this series. I was astonished to see these wonderful paintings, but the subject was again, 'women.' When I asked him, why? He simply told me that women are the most important part of every society so there should be more and more coverage of them in every issue of, 'Reflection.' He further told me that all the beauty we see around us was due to this beautiful part of society.

Whatever he said was true and reasonable for a number of artists to paint various shades of the women folks. We all adore the artists who chose women as the subjects of their paintings, infact the beauty of women is an integral part of paintings made by a lot artists. And there is another well known fact that women have always been ill treated by a number of men for centuries. Last year, 'Damini,' case created a lot of heat all over India. People protested against rapists and government was forced to pass a law to protect women and girls of this country. But how effected the law proved is still questionable.

The year 2013 was the worst year in aspect of women and girls' safety. Crimes against women -rape, molestation and eve-teasing-registered a fivefold increase in 2013 (till October 15) compared to the same period last year.

Well, is there any solution to protect women and girls of this country from the predators who live among us? Well we live in a democracy where all inhabitants have equal rights so the women of this country also have some rights too. Right to get protected. There have been a lot of candle burning, a lot of demonstrations, a number of TV debates but rapists are rampant. There is nothing to stop them, all they require is to inject a little fear into them. Who will inject the fear into them? Of course the elected government.

Women have the power to change the face of this society by using their rights. So they will have to make the government realize that if the government fails to protect them, theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll change the government. And to men, I just want to tell them please wake up and assume your duties towards the fairer sex. Your deeds are making this them extinct from the face of the earth. If you fail to assume your duties, there will be a time when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll also be at the verge of extinction. Vikrant

Book Review

My First Poetry Book Iram Fatima 'Ashi'

http://www.innerchildpress.com/iram足fatima足ashi.php

Review by Dr. Priyanka Mathur I really appreciate the whole compilation of "My First Poetry Book". 'A living Mannequin; A never Ending Love; The Abandoned Soul ; Rain of Love; The Longing and A Last Bye' are close to my heart. I can feel the content of these poetry which took me to the world of imaginations. Congratulations for your strong writing and good luck for future. Best wishes Dr. Priyanka Mathur

Review by Dr. Ruchida Barman This is a beautiful compilation of the growth and journey of a sensitive soul through the different worlds of experiences in the world of LOVE. A special mention is required for “The Yearning” which is simple and easy to understand words piercingly felt by those separated from their beloved ones. “The Lone Traveler” on the other hand expresses the maturity in thoughts of letting go your love…..letting it be free and yet continue loving it touches the inner cores of the heart. “The Living Mannequin” also displays the pain of how being away from your beloved makes you lifeless. “Love is what” is another mature look at love which encompasses Love of father, mother, friends everybody around us, of pain due to an unrequited love, unfulfilled soul. Truly, it is a journey for all readers too. A must read for everyone. Thank you for sharing this with the world!!!!!! Wishing you luck Dr. Ruchida Barman

Oh, please give me a break! Shahid Khan (India)

Oh, please give me a break! I don’t speak the language That divide and categorize. I don’t take pride in belonging to the groups It’s a sheer hypocrisy to which I won’t stoop. I speak the language the language of smile The universal language, yes, that is mine. Oh, please give me a break! I don’t belong to a certain country, region or a state The whole world is my home Where I’d like to freely roam. Discrimination is figment of feeble mind Which makes human, inhuman and blind. And which hinders the progress of entire mankind.

Mystery And Misery Vasanthi Papu (India) The cry of the poor is unheard and uncared So is their misery unnoticed and unshared. They begin their day with a desire to progress But the debts that lay pile up to their distress. From dawn to dusk they sweat for a meagre pay Their woes and throes of life are boundless to say. Their hearts seem broken as if struck with an arrow All that they have inherited is just endless sorrow. The depth of the sea is unknown from the shore So is their misfortune which falls as downpour. Their expedition has always been an arduous drive, With shattered dreams they strive hard to survive. Those born with some handicap find it still worse They beg for bread and butter with no other source. With pleading eyes they seek some care and support But time marches on with no words of comfort. The poor find it hard even to save a penny While the rich relax and hoard their money. Those born low, though good, are denied honor While the royal own it, in spite of being a sinner. Why is there a disparity in status and dignity? Why has kindness to the poor become a rarity? A change in law cannot unleash these knots Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s all in the attitude of man and his thoughts.

The Story Of Army’s Lost Love Fahmid Hassan Prohor (Dhaka, Bangladesh)

I travelled to Chittagong by plane to see an old friend of mine whom I chat with in social networking site at USA. I was so desperate to meet him that I would love to make a documentary on him Major Kabir Ahmed, the role model. He was an army doctor who served people even before their death. He had been into several battles and sacrificed his life towards people but never cared about himself. When I reached there, I saw the group of army officers holding a

signboard. My name was written there ‘Media Journalist, Waheed Khan’. I was surprised that he was not present to see me. Whatever, in the chathe described himself as a busy man. After I went to the guest house which was between small hills, I saw that the house was enormous. If I look far, the guesthouse looked small. It was two storyed. The stairs were high that if someone had a height phobia, they would get a heart attack but thank God that they had separate stairs for them. The

army people offered me to take some breakfast. After few minutes, I saw a man coming out from the luxurious car it was Major Kabir Ahmed. He was tall, healthy and fit as usual army officers. He had a short beard and long hair which was combed at the back. “Hello Mr. Waheed Khan. Pleasure to meet you” said the Major politely. “Pleasure to meet you too, sir” said I. We just sat down and talked about a new assignment given in

the USA to catch a criminal. He asked me to take some rest in the extra bedroom. As the other officers described his excess egoistic behavior, I was not really surprised because he replies my chat when it is necessary. To know more about him, I met someone close to the majorhis best friend, Sabbir. He said that it may not be necessary to ask about his arrogant behavior. After that I secretly went to his room, I searched. But something fell down from the wardrobe. It was a diary. I picked it up and as I

opened the page, I read that flashed twenty years ago.

bullies of his class. She was beautiful but tomboyish. Her name was Aminah. When Kabir added Aminah in the social networking site, she did not talk to him but abused him indirectly. Then Kabir came to know that she used to love stunts given by a popular guy in his college. He persuaded her by taking photos with the popular guy, claiming himself to be childhood friends. After they fell in love, their relationship started to flourish. When she came to know about the lie by speaking to the popular

guy, she avoided Kabir. Then Kabir learnt about the stunts to win his love for Aminah, he raced There was a nerd. Not a nerd who with the popular guy. In an wears glasses but a nerd who was accident the popular guy died. quite simple at heart. He was Kabir survived but planned to Kabir. At that time, he was short fake his death for his new identity. but barely recognized appearance He transformed himself from a because he looked like a child of sensitive nerd to an arrogant but fifteen years who was in his early much mature major. twenties. He was not as popular as he is at the present. At college, I was shocked to know about it people used to make fun of him. that I actually watched his videos, He was attracted to one of the but I did not recognize him as he

looked different from his present counterpart. I also kept the secret because I needed his permission. I felt it was a wise decision. Another day, we travelled to Bandarban the place where we found the real beauty of Bangladesh. It had full of mountains. I went above it. The weather was cold above but hot below. Suddenly, Kabir saw a man who was scared. When he went near the man, he opened the shirt. It was revealed to be a suicide bomb. He defused the bomb. As he looked paralyzed, the major gave him the treatment. As the man recovered, he explained that there was a man named Aameer who planted that suicide bomb. I filmed the whole thing. Then he realized that he should go to the USA to catch the criminal. According to assignments, his visa was granted by the government. My visa was also granted. We got back to USA. Major Kabir was more concerned than afraid when he arrived similar to Jay Gatsby from the novel ‘The Great Gatsby’. He stayed at my house and was busy by documenting his accounts in the computer. Suddenly, someone rang the bell. When I opened the door, I saw a face of a womaninch shorter than the major. She was healthy and beautiful. She was our neighbor Aminah who had an only child. Her teenage daughter, Afreen had

similar attitude of that of Kabir’s previous behavior. When she came in, she saw Kabir. She did not recognize him at first. Then Kabir recited a poem: Love grows forever, Never underestimate them. Love extends our future, Never break them… Even they are known or not, Their love always blossom. She wept and hugged Kabir. She revealed that after the accident, she thought that Kabir died. Yet, Kabir’s plan was successful until; his news of saving people was spread in the media according to

what she came to know. Afreen was actually Kabir’s child. She also revealed that when everyone came to know about his past, she was rejected by the boys who wanted to marry her. Now I realized that our neighbor was Kabir’s girlfriend (Yup ex but still lovers reunited). They hugged each other. Suddenly, Kabir got a call that their daughter was kidnapped. Kabir realized that it was Aameer, the mafia. Aminah arranged fake money. She came to Aameer and gave the fake money. When Aminah asked about the reason, Aameer replied that he wanted to promote inhumanity and destroy the Army Squadrons

of Asia to kill Kabir to take revenge of his brother’s death from the past twenty years. He also revealed that his brother was none other than the popular guy. Therefore, Kabir and I crashed the wall with the bulldozer. Kabir got down as he pointed the gun to Aameer. The US police took him to jail, the daughter was rescued and both lovers were reunited. After few months, Aameer was hanged to death. Aminah and Kabir got married but I am so unfortunate that even I get girls, they slap me a lot. All is well that ends well.

Suicide-Never A Solution Basilia (India ) No strength left to fight like a warrior Could see nothing beyond the barrier. So numb, thoughts filled with constant sorrow No thought of dear ones and their tomorrow. When life becomes hard and hoarse Never commit suicide by force. Giving up life for simple reason Leaving your parents with painful lesion. Many hopes bud in 'em as you grow with time They wait years for happiness to chime. Sibling who troubles you always Might become lifeless for decades. Your memories haunt 'em until they die Doubling their pains, cursing 'em to defy. Family, friends, loved ones grieve This is all what you achieve. When no strength left to fight like a warrior When you could see nothing beyond the barrier. Stay calm, take time to decide But never let in your brain, the thought of suicide.

Letter Of Sacrifice Praveen Gola (Delhi, India)

Dear Hubby Sumit , It’s a long time since I heard from you. I hope you are all right. This is not just a letter.You know dear.This is our life. That life which we waited for the last ten years. According to your words I am very curious to give you this good news. Our patience has paid off this time. Our junior has come to serve the nation. Sumit’s eyes with tears of joy were flowing out of the heaps. It was a letter from his wife “Priyanka”, who had just now become the mother of a baby. He remembered the pain of that two miscarriages that his wife suffered in the last ten years and He is the only one responsible for that pain. He lost in the thoughts……the first one…..had been just over two years of their marriage when He came back home after His Posting in Assam. Yes, He is an Army Officer whose Top priority has always been their Duty instead of their Family. Perhaps this was the main cause which made him hard hearted and so He was unable to pay the attention of his wife’s words at that time. I still remember the pain of your first miscarriage when you came back from “Assam”. I know that was your love for me but perhaps every time you tried to love it’s gone worse. I am missing you my Dear.It’s all good now. On a week leave when I went back to my home, she spangly put her arms around my neck and gave me that news. Perhaps every married man is eager

to hear those words,”You are now going to be a responsible man…..a father! But those words didn’t bother me. I simply made a smile and quickly finished my meal. For me the cause was the physical satisfaction and for her the cause was to share those pretty moments which she was going to live. But without paying any attention towards her feelings I simply overpowered her. She was resisting but I didn’t pay any attention. A flood of fantasies was revolving in my mind and when it ended ,everything was finished. The very next day she was hospitalized for the abortion. My carelessness made her speechless. Every next person who came to see her was in a mood to give many advice to her. Some of them blaming her not to take precautions at such a serious stage. She calmly accepted all the advice as there was nothing to explain.The glow in her eyes disappeared and she was looking pale. I was in a regret but my manhood always stopped me to accept “Sorry” in front of her. Sometimes we knowingly commit a crime that is under our control. That was the day when my fantasies overpowered me badly and my thoughts became helpless. Diwali is about to come . How lucky is the junior? His First festival…….and this time I pledged to celebrate the same with “No Crackers”. I want to distribute

some sweets to the poor children. May be they are the one whose wishes blessed me this blessing. This Diwali is really a lucky one for me. Days passed. Years passed……but she couldn’t conceive again. Six months later again a ray of hope enlightened. We both were very happy and forgot all the past. That time we decided to walk at each and every step carefully. Everything went fine up to seven months. I still remember that Black night of Diwali. We both stood in the balcony and was enjoying the Crackers. Suddenly some of my friends came to wish me. I got down and started to enjoy that Diwali crackers with my friends. My friends insisted me to call Priyanka too. She simply refused in front of my friends. Again my manhood burst and I ordered her to get down immediately. She is a very obeying wife. This I realised later on. She always leans in front of my wishes and due to this simple nature, she was caught on fire on that Diwali day. In a great anxiety and fear our premature baby dead on the spot. Life stops there again and that time again I was the cause and she was the sufferer. This time dear hubby Sumit, my last month was the toughest month as each and every second I indulged in my past memories but as you were not there ….so that fear lasts only for a while. Only your sacrifice blesses me to taste the fruit of “motherhood”. I Love You very much Dear!

I know your swear hasn’t completed yet. You are not the cause, sometimes circumstances matter a lot. I want to see you as early as possible but you are a man who cares about words. It took me a long time to counsel my wife once again. As life has no door to stop so was the situation with us. We too lived on. Perhaps for the next chance. As the time and days passed our wounds were too ready to heal and we were handling the situation that was passing through. “Priyanka” matters to me a lot. Only a woman can bear the long journey of pain and wishes of her partner but if a man would be there then surely he denied to live with such an irresponsible partner. To make her happy I lastly decided to change our environment and went to some Hill station for a week. There we restarted our life journey with a new zeal and enthusiasm. In fact I wanted to get back my “Love” which disappeared from our life. I felt very sorry for her but “Sorry” too became a peanut in front of our crime. But as sorrows are running so as the happiness blocked our way. When we came back from our weekend holidays we came to know about the third chance. Again a chance of gambling as we both had no words to say about that. Neither we were in a situation to celebrate that moment nor we could mourn. But that was the time for me to make me strong, that was the time for me to

remorse for my mistake. So without hearing any word, I simply made a “swear”. I believe that a “Swear” has the power to make a man internally strong only that’s why in the olden times the old sagas were fond of it. I too went for the same which I still remember, "My Dear Priyanka I in front of you……in front of the holy God…..make this “Swear” that from now I am leaving my house and will come back only ,when my Child has completed his First year.” She was stunned when paid attention towards my words. But without speaking to her,I packed my luggage and left my home for two years. Perhaps I took the right decision at that time as I was an unlucky one in her life. Though this moment made me proud I entered only when my baby completed his one year. Though I know that you will not come back up to one year I am sending you an advance invitation letter for his First Birthday and as a gift, I want that you are the one who will baptise him.Till then we will call him only JUNIOR.

Tears were flowing from Sumit’s eyes. He kissed the letter many times assuming the hidden love of his wife, who still regards him a lot. You know in your absence I passed my time to make me busy in Poetry writing. One of my poem for you: O’ my Love….O’ my Dear, Love is different , when there is fear. You were the “Cause” , And I was the “Victim” , That’s why…. We together make this moment “Exulting”. Your better half , Priyanka

God's Grace Jaffer Safwan (Saudi Arabia) Everything in this human space Praise God for His Grace. I look in the mirror And I see the wonders on my face. I love His miracle in my self And I do that in others when I embrace. No shame in my life and no disgrace I am proud for being a part of human race. In my heart, there is only one God I bow my head only to Him One and only one in my case. I love your children whom I can't erase.

When I say, I love you, people I mean every word that I write or say. My heart beats for you with love and peace For sure, that you won't be hurt in any case I look at the sky, the moon, and the twinkling stars I look at the mountains, the rivers, and the seas. I look at everything in this small world I see only God's magic and wonders in place. Be happy my fellow human beings Kings, beggars, princes, homeless. You are all in the eyes of our God And He and only He can change your database.

All countries are my country and my land All religions are my religion. All people are my brothers and sisters That's where I stand on His base.

Why Do I Write? Writing for me is an expression to my imaginations. Mostly, my stories revolve around the people and world I dream for. I have been creating stories in my mind since childhood. Some times I feel that the scenarios in my sub conscious are much more exciting and beautiful than my writings. I want to transfer those images to the paper so every body else could experience and imagine those scenes and stories. I want everyone out there to listen to my self created scenes. It is my dream that some day any of my stories may get performed on some stage. Mostly I create love stories because for me there is no feeling more beautiful when two persons wish for one another. The fact that I could make the characters of my stories which are by default very close to my heart, happy when ever I want is the ultimate reason of my writing fever. This is what we can’t do in our real lives. Mohammad Omer (Pakistan) Why I write? This question I never asked myself before. The most interesting fact is that, this thought has never struck my mind by the way. Before I entered into the field of writing my thoughts on paper, I was a fake story teller, of course for my friends and a story listener too. Fake story teller in the sense telling a story that is not real and I have seen them enjoying. But till now I haven’t written a story that I can make courage to post that to this world of story. And this unfulfilled task always makes me to write more and more. I can feel the heart of a true writer, how clean it is otherwise it is impossible to write a single word from heart and there is no other way to do so. I love my thoughts, I love to express my feelings it makes me feel free and light. I love to write such things which can change a single wrong thought and the day when this will happen I will be sure that yes I have written something and it will give me that courage to make that something to more and more. Yes last but not the least I write for those who love to read, who want to enjoy themselves through reading. Love you a lot Readers. You are the real courage for us….. Smrutikant Nayak (India) This is a question that keeps surfacing from time to time in my own mind and from others’. I am sure it is a common one in aspirant writers like me and many accomplished ones out there. To me, it all started when I entered the world of “spinning yarn”. As I devoured books ( in dozens) in frenzy, reading them all through the night, my mind started solving the puzzles before the book ended and soon it started creating new ones, yearning for new angles. That was when I started writing; to create the world that I have kept visiting for long and narrating it in ways to make people who come to visit it, fall in love with the characters and the ambience. Be it a fantasy world that makes us crave for such a world or a world set in the same realm as ours to bring out the true nature behind the common day lives, the world of fiction is one that shall never lose its magic. I write because I feel like God when I create life and death on paper. I write because it feels like the most natural and right thing to do in life. Yamunai Thuraivan ( India)

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

Your Reflection

I observed that 80% of this was Indian. Is there not enough talent in the rest of the world? Nothing against my Indian friends, but it does seem that the point of the magazine is being lost when it was supposed to be an international collaboration Rachel A Dyson (USA) Point noted. It's because most of our regular contributors are Indians. We shall try to cover works from writers across the globe in the future months. (Managing Editor)

Hearty thanks dearest Ashi and Reflection W&R Mag for all wonderment of poetry, prose and artistry! Thank you! Jen Walls (USA) Great effort .. yes a wonderful magazine for all of us.. The festive mood rejuvenates us long after the festivals are gone Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee (India) Congrats on yet another lovely issue Reflection team ... I am proud to be associated with it. Aarati Salian (Behrien)

This magazine has got something for those who admire art and literature. I feel very elated being a part of this amazing magazine right from the start. November issue is adorned with beautiful works from many talented writers all over the globe. Festival is the theme in this issue..a celebration to every reader and writer but it's a celebration to everyone associated with Reflection W&R Mag every time when the month's issue is published.. Thank you Reflection. Basilia (India)

Dear Readers, Greetings to you! The 25th of December is a red letter day to the Reflection family as it was on this great day, a year ago, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Reflection W&R Magâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; had its humble inception emerging as an online literary magazine and now it forges ahead with pride commemorating the very first anniversary of its existence. At the outset I would like to thank Mr Kumar Vikrant, the key person who had such a wonderful project in mind, the herculean task of publishing the creations of the budding writers and whose consistent endeavour has made this magazine attain a tremendous eminence for us to cherish forever. My sincere thanks to the Managing editor, Ms Iram Fatima Ashi who always shows keen interest in the progress of our magazine and who is instrumental in elevating the talents of the aspirant writers. No single flower makes a garland. Reflection has thus garnered a global prominence only with the spectacular compositions of our skilled writers and artists. It has been an exhilarating experience to work as a team and take the pride each time to come out with the best works from the brightest minds of our contributors to enrich and entertain the enthusiastic readers. I extend my felicitations and congratulations to all those associated with this commendable magazine on its successful completion of one year. Cheers and kudos to you! May the Almighty shower His abundant blessings on the glory of this magazine and grant holistic wellness to our beloved contributors and loyal readers! Thank you! Regards, Vasanthi Papu (Associate Editor)

As always such a fantastic job! Congrats to the writers and artists. Thank you to the editing team for making each issue more beautiful than the last. Job well done! Lisa Ayers (USA)