http://slow.writerscafe.org/Pratikshyam The original writings of author Pratikshya Mishra en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776037479 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15                 Shivamcouldn’t sleep that night. His mind was a mess of thoughts. Contemplating allthe revelations of the day, life couldn’t be more surprising. We never evenexpect to meet somebody ever .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1663666/ I tried to calm my nerves while he fumed. I hadn’t seen himso angry, ever. And this murderous rage scared me to death. This wasn’t theRehaan I knew, I reminded myself. God knows what filled him with so much angst,and temper. Was it me? I feared so; I dare not admit it to myself.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1656660/ (10 years ago….continued)Days following the grand declaration of love were like anever ending fairytale. I was living my dream and ticking off things from mysecret wish-list. Rehaan and I spent most of the time together, especiallyevenings, chatting for hours together. I took part i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1535670/ 10 years earlier-- (continued)‘We are not yet open, Miss.. It’s after about two hours..,’Rehaan said as he saw me enter the door. I had not thought of any good excusesyet but I attempted nonetheless,’ I know. But I have my school at thattime…Umm… Can I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1519980/ 10 years back:The air was cool yet, still humid. It had drizzled two hoursback. It was already March. Ah! How time flies! The wind blew on our face as weran down the slope licking the ice-cream before it could dribble down our fingers.The roads in Darjeeling were like uphill and downhill, some.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1514948/ I hid behind the big flower vase and the hanging decorations as Shivam descended the stairs chatting pleasantly with a relative, a middle aged woman, perhaps a queen. The very silhouette of him had my heart pounding and gave me goose bumps. And today he looked very much the prince that he was- charm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1501277/ It can’t be. And thattoo after so many years. How can he be a Prince? Perhaps the Prince just lookedso from far. But that voice? I couldn’t concentrate on the fabric and lookof Nandini’s beautiful bridal wear. So many things were going on in my mind. Internetwas of no use- .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1490682/ who is the brother? does rano know him? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1489601/ Rano finally goes to stay in the palace. What's in store for her? Will the fourth member of the royal family accept her presence? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1489200/ The palace was beautiful, and the surroundings, picturesque.Had I got enough leisure, I would have admired the beautiful gardens, the artand the splendid architecture. I was already fighting the urge to click a fewpics.Mr.Chauhan explained the history of the palace as weentered. It was m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1438891/ I hated my sister, officially now. I hated mom. How could they do this to me? They had created a profile with my details in Shaadi.com, without my knowledge and shared all my interests with Mr.Chauhan, from among all the prospective grooms who had requested attention. I cringed with embarrassment wh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1437338/ I finished my research work for the day and went downstairs.The weather outside was good. A cup of coffee should rejuvenate my wearynerves, I decided.The stairs were made of teak from Burma- exquisite lookingand very much royal. The hall was furnitured with big vases, motifs, statuesand .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1435854/ A roller coaster love story, very much a fairy tale, Indian style... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1435853/ About rediscovering self, and changing the perspective towards viewing life... Dreaming new dreams. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1432763/ A story about words unspoken, letters unsent, and childhood love. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Pratikshyam/1425439/