Storiesoftvb

     “So, you were in love,” asked the man sitting in front of me. He was short but quite muscular. He looked like he was from the early 20 th century in his vintage American beard. Despite being muscular, his pumpkin sized belly made him look like a Humpty dumpty with a beard. He was dressed formally like an advocate. A milk-white shirt with black neckwear, which was hanging up to his pumpkin belly, he wore black pant which was as dark as human eyes with a pair of well-polished shoes.      “Were you in love?” he asked again, pointing his pen towards me.      How could he judge this as love? Did I tell him anything about her? I hate this attitude of judging someone.      “I didn’t tell you that it was love,” I said, thudding the table with my fists.      “Apologies. Please continue with your story,” said the man.      I leaned forward to reach to his face and said, “I am done for today. Co...

     On a sunny Monday morning, I was sitting in a place where I never wanted to. It was the place where scholars and students meet to exchange what they have inside their heads. The class was humungous with huge doors and windows with more than a dozen desks. I was seated on one of those which was placed near the window. It was the place where I used to sit for the past three years. Beside me, was a tall, skinny guy with specs seated. I noticed his new hairstyle which resembled the one I had seen in a famous game from Rockstar. I greeted him with a compliment for his new hairstyle earlier this morning when he came to class. Rithick was a man of brands. Whatever he wore, eat, and drink will carry an expensive branding along with it. He was the one who was accompanying me since the first day of college. Mine was a typical Indian engineering classroom filled with people who topped their board exams and had been struggling to qualify after getting into college. The instituti...

    On a terrible evening, where the sky was filled with burning clouds of moisture. The sky lost its beauty of blues and turned sad and dark. I was standing in a place filled with a dozen idiots running here and there to fill their filthy greed filled minds and unsatisfied and never-ending hunger. I was in the middle of a dark blackish grey colour road, holding a face mask on my left hand. In the meanwhile, my right hand was pestering my pockets. The noise from the surrounding started fucking up my mind like a full-fledged psychotic thriller film. Being, already fucked, my mind was ready to bear the bangs from my surroundings. I was dressed in a costume in which all 99 per cent of the people my age would wear. As the proverb says, “Face is the index of mind”, my face replicated my mind being fucked up brutally. A few moments later, it somehow managed to escape the hardcore session and suggested me a marvellous idea. Even a kid in their early teens would’ve said that the ...