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follow link Two soft hands coming from behind pushed the swing a little forward continueing the verse…”twinkle twinkle…”

here a lot of joy translated into smiles and giggles. “mama,this tym sing the barbie song please”

binäre optionen mindesteinzahlung paysafecard “barbie song!okey”,with a funny giggle,”written by ur wd b father-in-law”… “cweetty naughty my barbie gal a prince will come with shining pearl

he will marry my princess doll

reminyl tabletas 4 mg chweetty naughty my barbie gal”

diclofenac suppository 100 mg The little child got excited with joy painted in blue…

speman himalaya price in malaysia Her pony tailed hair dancing upon the wind…

The trees…the swing…the fresh fragrance of air…

All resonating the extravagance…

Suddenly the child climbed down the swing and rushed towards the gate.

“Adyasa”…the high pitch sound broke the silence,but she didn’t even turn back.

After a while adyasa came with a letter.throwing it upon d air she started dancing singing the barbie song… “chweetty naughty my barbie gal…”

her mother ran to catch d letter sailing upon the wind.”ow! Got it.who is it?a letter in d age of mails!”

looking at d adress got stunned.’oops!its from hunky dude.

Hey hunky dude,i was thinking of you just singing ur barbie song.YOU GONNA LIVE FOR A HUMDRED OF YEARS .”speaking silently to herself she opened d letter.

“oye barbie,

(the lips became a little wider perhaps the word was awaited so long)

hey m gonna kill you!(wat nonsense,dont u any need any formality to start a letter). It has been so long i hv nt listened ur voice.are u ok naa?

Adyasa has grown up now.she is 3.hey never hurt her dear.hmm..she loves the swing.(how do u know,damn nobody).does she look like u?i mean little ‘motti’.ha ha

and O chweett baby!once u asked,”wish I could flow back in time,i would go to my childhood days….

when d precious gift was dad’s love…

The safest place was mother’s lap…

Bittermost thing was brother’s advice…

Only enemy was d elder sister…

Only pain was for my broken doll…

Only job was to blow the balloon…

Wish i could go to my childhood days…’

but hey,i assure,you can …if u wish.I hv a magic.close ur eyes.listen to me…

Feel,in ur heart,wat adyasa speaks…

Dance,upon ur mind,wat adyasa sings…

Ask to ur heart,wat adyasa cries for…

Go to the sea shore…collect the snails…

Castle in d air…pluck a little flower…

How does u feel when adyasa gets hurt?

Tell me,isn’t it as if u had broken a doll?

Hey now come back yaar.i wanna go to my school days…

Where our strict class teacher has a thousands of reasons to shoot us…

Yet we had millions of reasons to bunk d penalty

shouting with joy…murmuring in fear f death…open d gate

when we walked down d road covered with dry leaves

when we sat in d classroom d smell we breathe is of our uniform dresses and yellow striped brown ties

where i got my best b’day gift…’a kissed cadbury in class 8′

three years later when i tasted the rotten cadbury hiden in my book shelf

d sweetest thing in d world was mingled in to me

wish i could go to my school days…

Yet could not…yet could not.

Anyway i kept my word sending dis letter to u,

let ur life b full of salad days,

bedazzled be u with d smiling rays,

dis final wish when u get,

i may nt b in dis world walking dat day…

Yours ever

hunky dude.

“Final wish” reverberating in d deepest corner of curiosity she ws shocked.she rushed towards d destination…written on d letter posted a month ago.

After a painful journey of 3 days and life time friendship she got there.

A little child took her towards d hunkydude.He was sleeping silently.she sat by him.touched d closed eye.smone gave a parcel to her.she opened it.A cadbury with a letter wrapped over it.she opened d paper.

‘sorry dear,I dont have any match for your Adyasa

nor can do any magic nd come back to u.

But I assure I m always with u…

I m still alive as friendship never dies.”

with a tear stained heart she looked upon d evening sky.

A falling star coming down…vanished away like yesterdays.

Perhaps making all d wishes come true…

A promise for an eternal frndsp mingled into her soul

as does d melted jilted rotten cadbury.

Categories: Stories

Manoj Kishore Nayak

Hitherto known as the “Tissue Paper Poet” and credited many a times with initiating the same genre of poetry I, contemplated of writing this blog where I could inter-alia, endeavor to write my random thoughts and publish that of others. The blog will contain subjects of myriad hues ranging from poetry & travelogues to sundry incidents.

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