<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Ashita Panda | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Ashita1996</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Ashita Panda</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776031697</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Yours lovingly, Maa</title>
			<description>A tribute to a mother </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/2466870/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Last Fragrance</title>
			<description>A good read for a lazy monsoon afternoon.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/2464882/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The One.</title>
			<description>I hear those paan candy wrappersMake a lot of commotionInside your pocketYour face lights up in gleeFor it serves as a happiness portionI do not likeIt's taste, smell;I like noneWhat I like is the happy childlike faceAnd thus,Habits make you twoLove binds into one.&quot;How many..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/1888363/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Things I would have said if I were human-Jama Masjid</title>
			<description>Caught in every book of history,The heart of every Indian being my home, Ironically, I reside in the heart of Delhi; Four towers, three great gates and two minarets made with structures like a dome,The walls guard me like a little gnome.My father, Shah Jahan spent on me, twelve long year..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/1821134/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Hold my hand.</title>
			<description>Let me not dive into the ocean so deep,Bottomless I presume? But let me drown and let the magic seep,Through my skin and lead me home;Here, take my heart ! Guard it like a gnome!Did I sound like Napoleon? Oh well, I can see you smile.That attractive curve mystically spawn;Come get ..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/1821132/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Devil's advocate </title>
			<description>1950s.Under the big oak tree of Saharanpur, a man in his thirties had built his precious house. The locality, supposed to be a residential hub, seemed more like a fish market. The continuous cacophony of the bizzare street , Mrs. Sharma's shrills effortlessly deceasing ones eardrums, the fruit sel..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/1775401/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Silence. </title>
			<description>They say silence is golden. The clock reminding me of its existence by its intended tick tock, the housefly humming around ; the periodic falling of water droplets from a damaged tap; the hollow murmering of crickets by the bushes, the frog liberating its melancholy cacophony ; my breath reminding..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashita1996/1726272/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>