Redhya

I hadn't ever seen death being peaceful. My dog was dying. My mother comfortably laid him at his favourite spot that was beside the shoe rack in the verandah. I watched him taking his last breaths. I remembered his early years when he was such a pain in the arse. He'd gnaw everything that smelt like feet: socks, slippers, and shoes. I didn't hate him when he chewed down my white crocs even though I liked them. I got him chewy bones a couple of times. He'd do "grrrrrrr" when I tried to reach a bone in his mouth. Lying on a tattered rug, he opened his eyes; they were filled with tears. My mother was crying. I felt nothing as if I were lifeless. I looked at him slowly crawling towards us. When he reached my mother's feet, he looked at her. Putting his head on her feet, he collapsed and didn't wake up after that. *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya

Incessant rhythmic tremors vibrate a nearly empty martini glass kept on a table; I’m desperate to see it leisurely falling off and shattering into pieces so as to know who takes care of a broken object and a fucking stolid life. Colourful ambient lights! Drooping eyelids and swaying bodies, underneath a disco ball, are imitating vibrating, deafening beat drops. I’m at a high-end nightclub in Mumbai, letting life slip away as always. Tick, tock, tick, tock! Through the hammered crowd dancing on the floor, a young man sitting across gazes at me. Damn! He looks so foreign. The blue jacket on his torso complements his buffed carcass. He’s sitting at the bar, whereas I’m sitting at the dance floor. Perhaps, he has been looking at me for a long time. Glancing away for a few seconds, I look back at him for a fleeting moment. Man! He has everything that stands him out from the berserk crowd. Messy hair, cute spectacles, a golden watch, short pants, and a pair of black Chuck Taylors. He gesture...

The journey to Redhya was extremely long, for I took approximately 23 years to reach there. Hi! My name is Dheeraj Preet , and I’m an author. When I was fairly young, I somewhat disliked my name. The reason behind my irrational dislike was that I’d find the name, Dheeraj , ordinary. No, truth be told, I hated it, and, on top of that, people shortened it to Dheeru . Wow! It’d have taken me ages to think this as my pet name. I’d be pissed off when someone called me Dheeru except my family . It felt like they wanted me to take my thumb out of my mouth when they addressed me as Dheeru . Dheeraj means patience. I couldn’t name myself Patience. I thought that it would be so weird if someone said, “ Oye Patience Preet! Idhar aa. ” I certainly needed a cool name. As a result, I thought about Dherya . It’s a Sanskrit version of the words: patience and calmness. Later, I thought – If I am putting this much effort into finding a cool name, then why not I think a little more. In childhoo...

It's sad when people can't conclude whether they are being strong or they are just dying slowly. I was hurt; there was nothing I could do. Thus, I accepted the things the way they were, not because I was weak, but because I would have ruined everything if I had done anything. Putting on the façade of being unhurt, I accidentally cut off the bridge between me and some traumatized parts of my cerebrum. Surely, it was just a phase, but I was shaken to the core. Eventually, time took its course of action, and the phase passed by. I wish "sorry" could be enough to mend the broken bridge. Unfortunately, any amount of repentance couldn't repair me. Now, I feel strong, but I know that I'm just dead *** buy my books on amazon -  redhya