By: Runaaz A Sharma  Heart pounding, mind numbing Fidgeting fingers, skimming through tome Eyes darting, ears perking On every able drone Ready! Silence descends All ascend Perching in nest Devoid of pandemonium Prayers are murmured Papers are shuffled Apprehension drowning my…

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Literary Yard has got the following announcement from the Commonwealth Writers regarding a short story competition. If it interests you, please mind the guidelines and deadline: Writers have until 15 November 2014 to enter their short…

By: JD DeHart The lawn used to look bigger, and the tree over the hill was miles away I was going to grow up and marry a famous actress and have famous little babies with faces much nicer than mine…

By: JD DeHart I suppose there is some object in space or some floating personality which governs us always and constantly so that we organize ourselves first by the concept of mother, father, brother then we begin to feel stirrings…

By: Gaither Stewart Oh, no, it’s already beginning. As every morning the usual twisting and untangling myself to escape these capricious sheets. Already another day. I no sooner finally drop off to sleep than I’m waking and another long day…

By: Adreyo Sen When I was a boy, my mother was the district magistrate of a tiny little corner of India. Magisterially disapproving of my tendency to disappear in my books and diaries, she’d take me with her on her week-long…

By: Rency Philip “Hand me another mug. I’m still thirsty.” A hesitant mug comes your way across the counter. The karaoke hours were fast approaching and you want to scoot before they start. As you gulped down what was the…

By: Neelam Singh Life’s struggles end today. Life, like a farce stands gaping at me. Moments of pain, laughter, fear and shame rekindled in my mind. Moments spent alone, and moments spent talking to walls. Today all was still, no…

Today, I’ve an interesting book which might sound more of a business one. However, I insist you read it. While this brings in mind the business, money into mind, it gives you an interesting class in India which has always…

By: Athena Mondal Image of a half-eaten moon, slowly savoured The downward strokes of an acoustic guitar, In wafts the smell of precious memories, Some from the well-guarded past, Some in the mind yet to be made, For only in darkness…