No, beta, the trees can’t talk and sing, nature doesn’t invite you in, and the wind certainly doesn’t give you wings!

My name was the talk of the world. But as it usually happens, my importance had been lost in the noise.

His day’s work had been done. Teaching children like him a lesson was the most important part of his job description.

In his conversation or dialogue, I heard a sigh. A lament. A joy. And an offer. The transition was marked by his wave.

He felt a new feeling. It was tiny. But it was moving. And as it travelled, it burned his insides, bit by bit.

Sometimes he thought his business was not really selling ice but buying time.

They say it’s impossible to be alive without a voice.

He loved studying. He loved going to school, and you know how bizarre that is.

Do lines not scratch their insides? Do they not make holes in their hearts?

"This is your glass. How dare you give it to baaji? How dare you make her drink from your glass?”