Literature classes have always been fun. They are completely different when you consider it your profession. First step to read the book, analyse and critical analyse. Isint life too? As I mentioned in my first story, I was in depression. I had lost everything. I was free, the kind of free I never wanted. That was my story a month ago. Now when I analyse it , it was depressing, troublesome, still and unconscious of the future. Critically it the end of my flight. It was barren, savage. I was heathen in my own house. I think that is the only problem of humans. Humans tend to jump on conclusion so very fast. If you fail in one, then there is no way out. Shoot. Stop. Analyse the larger picture, don’t stop at the basics. People are anyway going to judge you. A month later I am in a different city. Different people, a different me. Everything has changed, but for what? Encouragement, shelter, experience. This is life, a critical analyses of your own soul and experiences. This is life, a beautiful present to be opened at the perfect time.
I called my mother , she jostled around the words. Calling out her condition I asked how is there? One word Stuck. 70th day of no work , that was what people tagged the paradise on Earth. Kashmir.
Unfortunately it was bullets who ruled and people were laid.