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Seven Arrows

The sound of the water flowing through the gurgling river was drowned by the cacophony of wild birds rummaging through the fallen cherries among the pile of leaves and twigs on the ground. Dvaita Forest along the border of Himalayas was immensely alive with the chattering of monkeys, the growling of brown bears and the cooing of pigeons. That morning, Keane and Brahma were up early, wandering about Dvaita Forest. The two proficient hunters were in search of the legendary ‘Seven-Arrows’, a master hunter known for shooting seven arrows at one go with precision. Keane and Brahma had come to learn their final art from this maestro. As they were walking past a bush, suddenly, they encountered an old lady picking berries. Out of sheer curiosity, she eagerly asked them what they were doing here. The two hunters arrogantly told her they were looking for Seven-Arrows. She smiled and told them that they had come to the right place. Keane looked at her for a good ten seconds and smir...
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The Journey of a Thousand Miles

Sage Gautam called for Vivek. Vivek was baffled as the Sage seldom summons anyone in particular. He cautiously entered the temple ground where the Sage was resting. The door was ajar. The Sage whispered, “Come and sit here with me, Vivek.” There was a deafening silence in the room. Vivek waited for ten minutes which seemed like hours. With droopy eyes, his defining words broke the silence, “It is time for your first lesson. Go on a journey into the world to learn the art of forgiveness. And don’t return to this monastery until you master it,” he said sternly and slipped back into deep meditation. Vivek was clueless. He packed his bags and headed back to his village where his wife and son resided. On his way, he had to walk through a dense forest. He came across an ageing old man who hoaxed him into giving him all his money. However, as he was on a journey of forgiveness, he decided not to fuss about it. As he walked home, he reflected on what the Sage had said. H...

The Uninhabited House

The room was unusually cold and tiny icicles had formed by the window sill. A layer of frost had started to cover the view of the garden. A garden? Hold on a second … there’s no garden outside my 35 th floor apartment! My body sank heavily into the soft, fluffy bed. I got off the unusually comfortable bed. It felt like every molecule in my body was about to combust from exhaustion. I wanted to collapse back onto the bed but I looked around the cramped room and there were books … books … and more books all over the place. A specific title caught my eye amongst the messy piles of books on the rugged floor. It read: ‘Disciples’ and on the cover was a horned demon grinning profusely. Heck, what on earth was this place, what sort of a creepy person lived here, I wondered. As I inspected the titles; ‘The Chosen One’, ‘Mary’s Sacrifice’, ‘God’s Cursed Child’ and ‘Monstrosities’, finally my eyes zoomed in on ‘The Death Prophet’. It freaked me out. All these malicious books told me that I...