#he went hoo hee i am so soft

[doeeyeddarlingxo]

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 56

The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training - Chapter 56

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Word Count: 1661

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: T

A/N: i'm posting this from the train back to school (sad reaccs only), so i'm going to keep this brief so that i can post before my connection cuts out. but i love you all! it is snowing outside, but the reactions to this story have kept my heart so warm! keep the predictions coming, and expect the daily chapter update to continue from now until (eep!) the END of the story! ahhhhh

Taglist (brand new, so lmk if you want to be added!): @lokis-girl-in-mischief

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 56

You hadn’t realized they’d filmed the kiss.

Wedged in between Irina and Rhea on the couch, with Rosa just a pillow’s breadth away from you, you realized that none of the others have ever been portrayed as having any kind of physical relationship with Loki. Irina and Rhea tastefully avoided such questions, while Rosa...she said things, but in a joking manner. Not to be taken seriously. You, they’d left alone - it seemed like you weren’t the only one who’d thought you’d had no shot. But the day after the segment airs, you’re still wondering:

Were you the first one he kissed at all? Or just the first he kissed on camera?

********************************************

You get almost a full day’s peace and quiet before the storm begins.

"You just can't get enough, can you?"

You recognize the voice, but don't bother looking up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rosa."

A soft green gel-tipped nail appears in your peripheral vision, clutching a sheaf of shiny, colorful papers. "Right. So you totally haven’t seen these.”

 “What?” You grab the magazines from her. “Where did you get these?”

She snorts, flopping onto the chair across from you. “We all have our little secrets, I guess.”

You flip through the top one eagerly. There they are - the results of the most recent poll. 

WHO DO YOU THINK WILL WIN THE CROWN?

Lady Rhea - 39%

You laugh. Is this really what Rosa’s so upset about? “Are you surprised? You know they love her.” She rolls her eyes in response, and you keep reading.

Lady (Y/N) - 38%

“What?” A few pages later - your page - there are more comments, scattered around a screenshot of Loki cradling your face in his hand. You read:

~ Lady (Y/N) is on FIRE!

~ I squealed out loud watching that kiss - soooo romantic! I honestly wasn't expecting him to kiss (Y/N) first, but now I hope he doesn't kiss anyone else! I can't imagine any of the other girls connecting with him like that.

Of course, not everyone’s opinions of you are quite so positive.

~ Everyone's talking about Lady (Y/N)'s "chemistry" with King Loki. One has to wonder though, is she even old enough to have even completed a college chemistry course? Her level of maturity would suggest not. She's nineteen, people! 

But your supporters always come through, defending you with a vengeance.

~ I see people mentioning age. Clearly, she’s more than mature enough to be able to speak up for herself. 

~ I love how Lady (Y/N) can call him on his BS and he’ll take it because he knows she’s right. Come on, I can’t be the only one who thinks she’d be a great queen! 

~ Lady (Y/N), though she does have her moments, is wise beyond her years. Wishing her the best in and out of the palace.

“You could have at least told us before we saw it on TV.” 

You wrinkle your brow. “Since when have you given me any reasons to trust you?”

“I’m kind of with Rosa on this one.” It’s Irina, closing the door quietly behind her. “This feels...wrong. We shouldn’t be keeping secrets from each other. It’s like sabotage.”

“Thank you!”

“It’s her business, though.” You look up with a start—you’d almost forgotten Rhea was in the room. She walks over, settling on the couch besides Irina.

“Thanks.” You start fidgeting with your hands. “I didn’t realize they’d gotten it on camera, anyway.” Rhea raises an eyebrow. “What?” Suddenly, you feel under as though you’re under siege. “I swear to God, I didn’t!”

“Right.” Rosa sounds thoroughly unconvinced. “Well, don’t go thinking you’re so special or anything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you aren’t the only one in it to win it.” She turns away with a “hmph” and a flip of her hair.

“Win what? Him? Or the crown?”

She glares at you. “Alright, Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou. What about you? Do you really think you’re the only girl he talks to? The only one he sees? Kisses? You’re a game to him. A stupid little girl that he can manipulate and play around with while he figures out who he’s really going to keep around.”

You shrug. “Say what you like, Rosa. All I know is that I didn’t see you up on that screen last night.”

She gapes at that, mouth hanging open like a codfish. “You - you know, I am so sick of your act.”

“My act?”

“Yes, your act! You pretend to be so innocent, sweet little (Y/N), ‘tee hee, look at me, I’m dumb enough to flip out on the king and lucky enough to get away with it!’ I’m telling you, he doesn’t care about you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“You haven’t seen - ”

“Girls,” Rhea interrupts, calm and regal as always. You and Rosa both shut up immediately. “Half of the girls we started out with aren’t here. The fact that we are makes the four of us special to begin with.” She keeps her voice low, though it carries in the quiet of the room. “Maybe we should stop fighting each other.”

Irina snorts. “Right, like that’s happening.”

“No, I’m serious. And here’s how we’ll start: we’ll go around and talk about our encounters with His Majesty.”

You and Rosa shoot each other one more glare before nodding. You feel the sting of tears as you sit back down (you hadn’t even noticed you’d stood up to begin with) - you hate being reprimanded. And some of what Rosa said hit home - what if he really doesn’t care? What if - you try to block out the image of him and Rosa, his fingers tangled in her hair, her legs around his waist as he kisses her against a wall. His lips on Irina’s, his hands circling her waist as he helps her dismount from one of her precious horses. Rhea doesn’t worry you, only because she seems far too conservative to allow such a thing to occur.

“What we speak of doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual in nature,” Rhea adds. “Anything. If you went on a date that wasn’t public knowledge. If you passed and spoke to him on the way to the stables. Things like that.”

“Oh. How far back is this going? I barely remember what I wore yesterday, forget what I said three years ago.”

Rosa rolls her eyes. “God, do you have to overthink everything?” 

Irina stares daggers at her. “Okay, then. Show us how it’s done. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”

“Fine.” She takes a deep breath, and your heart sinks...until she releases it in a sigh. “I can’t even think of a good lie. Nothing, okay? Absolutely nothing happened.” 

You’re surprised to hear tears in her voice. 

After an uncomfortable moment, she speaks again. “All right, I’ve humiliated myself enough. You go, Irina.” 

Irina shrugs, shaking her head. Then she hesitates, opening her mouth as though to confess something. “Actually, I’m going home today.”

“What?”

She nods. “I wanted to tell you all. In person.” Another shrug. “But nothing happened before then, anyway.

None of you know what to say.

Until, like ripping a Band-Aid off a wound, Rosa switches her attention back to you. “How the hell did you manage it, then?”

“Me?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Well, apparently you’re the only one who’s kissed him.”

“I don’t know. What, do you want a rundown on everything he’s said to me since...I don’t know, however long?” All three of them nod. “Okay. We danced at the first ball we ever went to, the masquerade. Remember?” They nod. “We always ran into each other in the hallway after that. I don’t know. Oh, and then...well, there was the attack on the castle.” The quiet turns somber as you remember that day. The panic. Lexi. “Anyway. We ended up hiding out together. We’ve been...friends, I guess, ever since.”

“Friends?” Irina repeats incredulously. 

“And, to make a long story short, he kissed me after dinner last Saturday. And I might have yelled at him?”

“You yelled at him for kissing you?”

“...I mean, it was a little more complicated than that. Anyway, the next day he, um, invited me to dinner, and we argued again about that. During dinner he made a comment that struck a nerve. Like, on purpose, though. So I kind of went off on him for that.” You shrug. “But, um, you guys already know that part.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Rosa holds up a hand to stop you. “So he kissed you twice? I can’t...You didn’t even want to be here!”

“I don’t exactly get to leave whenever I want!”

“Aw, (Y/N) doesn’t get her way for once. Boo freaking hoo.”

“I had a life before this!” Tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes, but the anger you feel is eating you up from the inside out and you can’t hold it in anymore. “My friends are out there worrying about final exams and spring fling plans, and I’m here. I guess I shouldn’t be complaining, though - I get to deal with court etiquette and alien attacks and everything else that’s been thrown at us. So yes, Rosa, I miss my life, and if I could have left three years ago, I would have.” You need to pause for a few moments just to compose yourself. “But that’s changed. I’m not leaving. You’re not going to just get rid of me.”

“Why?” She sticks out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Because you love him?”

“Yes.” You look her dead in the eyes. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

For once, she doesn’t respond.

You pick up your book. “I’ll see you ladies tonight at dinner.” As you begin walking out, you hear her call out after you, but you ignore it, the blood still rushing in your ears.

[sp00kysabrina]

corona kinda fuct w my plans and only source of serotonin huh...i never thot i’d see the day i miss school...but i miss school...i remember things starting to come together in school and me thinking “wow this is nice, wonder how long it’s going to last” LMAO not long apparently 

i want to talk about my science teacher and be soft. my science teacher runs environmental club which i went to every tuesday which is probably the only thing in school i am whole heartedly dedicated to bc i felt USEFUL and like i belonged and i only feel worthy of life if i’m able to give back and i felt like i was giving back by being able to do something for the earth and we were gonna start a pollinator garden and i miss it!!!! but mostly i miss it, and i don’t care how selfish this sounds, bc my science teacher believed in me :( and not fake believed in me, the “you have so much potential boo hoo if only you used it” type of believing but ACTUALLY believed in me. i felt it. i’ve failed basically every class i’ve taken for 3 years and his class was no exception. he knew this. but he still asked me to think about not dropping out next year just to take his AP (aka advanced placement!!!) environmental science class bc “even if (i) fail, (i’d) still get a lot out of it”. and he still asked me to be leader in environmental club before it even started then again asked me to take lead on a project the first day it did start. like. do you all have any clue how much that means to me that he trusted me enough to take charge in environmental club knowing i do no work whatsoever in regular school. i’m absent 50% of the school week yet he trusted me enough to know i’d show up with the plans and research next environmental club, that i wouldn’t play hookie like in regular school. he TRUSTED me he BELIEVED in me and i didn’t let him down!!! i HATE finding so much worth in an authority figure bc i’m usually very much fucc authority but i can’t help it!!! on a more personal note i think he’s the first teacher my brain has ever made into a daddy figure and i miss him and his club and i never had someone believe in me so strongly for who i am and not who i could be :( i wrote my favorite middle school teachers letters of all the things i’ve wanted to say to them but could never say outloud the day i graduated, and i’m not leaving highschool without letting my science teacher know just how much an impact he’s made for me bc i really don’t think he knows. sometimes i think about those letters in middle school, what those teachers thought, if they still have them, if they hang up on their desk for future students to see and ask about, if those letters have cemented me in those teachers memories like a nursery rhyme passed down, and once again the ye olde question of why being remembered means so much to me

anyways into less emo and deep reasons i miss school, a mf finally got a lunch period with their crush after having no classes together all 4 years of high school and now we can only have lunch in self quarantine 😭 😭 

lastly we were doing clay stuff in art class but school being closed for 2 weeks means it probably dried out tee-hee!!!

[shystoryrebel]

How Blue is my Sapphire

I am a true Indian and a Harijan.  So are all my relatives, friends and contacts.  One happy day I gave good news to all, “I am going to Varansi.” All were happy but worried too. With congratulations, I was showered with advices.

“Varanasi-Holy Ganga! ….how lucky you are! Great?

“No, no, you would have tried to America.”

“It’s the same thing. Varansi or America…Makes no difference. Success is more important…This time Varansi…next …America! Who knows?”

Really, a big name! A big city, a lonely planet and a glamorous playground of dark-superstitious-Hindu world.

“But beware of Pundas, Brahman, Sadhus and cheats.”

“Don’t go out alone on banks of river Ganga. It is full of rowdy Sadhus, pundas and cheats. ”

I was surprised that why everybody was so scared of Hindu Sadhus and pundits but love Muslim mazars and dargahas.  

In India too, I have been hearing this since I was a child. Indian model of secularism has made Muslims as the most important species. That is talking about them has become fashionable, intellectualism, humanism and above all a powerful vote bank.

Long, whitish donning skull cap, some in lungis and most of the women in burquas and in hijabs. We have all possible shades of Islam among us.

“Crazy people. They love everything Islam and Islamic. Good or bad makes no difference”

“Ha-ha, hee-hee, hoo-hoo,” everybody laughed.

Mr Dior of France has created a perfume called Poison. A black bottle in the shape of half cut apple. So is Brut. Similarly Rape jeans.

All are so popular here and there too.

Whatever the trend there, it is to be followed here.

“Varansi is very expensive city. Where will you stay?”

“Take my niece’s address. She lives in the safe township Malviya Nagar.  You can stay with her. You can go to Knowledge Village in the morning and come back in the evening.” Shall I ask if the niece is Hindu or Muslim? What a funny question! A Hindu niece will be a Hindu.  

Whatever she is, my lodging has been prearranged. Happy! Spoke to the niece, “Enquire at the Varansi Railway Station and a cab to Malviya Nagar. Call me from there. I will come and pick you up. Telephones in Varansi are out of order most of the time.”

When everything was ready my mother gave me a golden rings studded with blue Sapphire. She said, “It will protect me from inauspicious waves and looks.

All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.....

Good. Tension free.

My train reached Varansi. Big railway station. Everything was big. Big longue. Big luggage. Big sadhus and big pundits. Big women. Big enquiry board.  Visible clearly from far. But station itself was very dirty.

First thing I did after coming out of the coach, I kissed the blue sapphire and the soil of the oldest city and oldest civilization of the world.

 Carrying the big luggage on a big trolley, I crossed the big longue, reached the big enquiry counter and stood in front of a blue eyed, healthy, black glass wearing woman. I was surprised why she was wearing black glasses inside a room.  She was blind.

“When does the local train leave for Malviya Nagar?

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have a timetable? Information booklet?”

“I don’t know.”

I was shocked to see their hostile behavior towards visitors.  

I was almost in tears. Muttered- Malviya Nagar. I was advised by my host,” Take a taxi and come. It will cost you Rs.40/= Ask a policeman and get the fare fixed, otherwise you will be cheated.”

I had this choice only. At least my hotel expenses have been saved. I moved towards the taxi stand. There were so many taxis. All the drivers were in grey and whites.

I reached one of the taxis. “Malviya Nagar.”

“Meter or without meter?”

I was taken aback. It was Varansi or Chennai?

He has his name plate written ‘Saddam Husain.’ on his shirt.

I remembered, I had been advised to ask the policeman to get the fare fixed. I saw one there sitting in the booth….Shukla …! Written on his name plate.

“Beware of Brahmans. Stay away from the Brahmans.”

Hey Krishna! Protect. He was advancing towards me like Genghis Khan, the brute and inexhaustible rapist.  

“May I help you?” He asked. Tall, strong, tilak on his broad forehead. I was scared and dumbstruck. My tongue trapped. I managed to murmur, “The fare to Malviya Nagar.”

“Switch on the meter,” he ordered in a firm voice to the driver and me. “It will come around Rs.40/= . Okay?”

“Okay.” I was happy to be released from his clutches.

He walked away. He was very decent and soft spoken. I felt like stopping him and talking…But ….beware of Brahmans.

All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am.....

The driver was on his seat. He opened the boot of the car by pulling a knob.  I put my luggage in it. As soon as I entered the taxi, it moved. Speed was very high like the arrow of Arjun’s Gandiv. I was on the cloud nine although a little nervous. Outside it was hot, but inside the taxi it was cool. The temperature was comfortable. I closed my eyes to take a small nap. I heard the driver’s voice.

“Where do you have to go Madam?”

“Malviya Nagar.”

“Any idea, where’s that?”

“I don’t know. Wait; Let me see it in the map.” As I was seeing the map, the meter clicked Rs.50/=.  

“I Shouted, we have crossed Malviya Nagar. Meter is indicating Rs.50/=.”

“Stupid policeman. Forty! He does not know anything. Wanted to ruin my business as I don’t bribe him”

“So? Miser Indian. Get down here.”

“How can I get down here in a remote forest?”

“I have to go to Malviya Nagar.”

“It will cost you near about 70 to 80 rupees.”  

“Whatever. I have to go there. Move. Signboards may give us some clue. I also tried to find out in the map.”

I kissed my blue sapphire.

“Malviya Nagar. Malviya Nagar. ” I jumped with joy.

“Street? Block, building, number?” “Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers, B-Blok, Flat No.101.

Oh God, Jai Hanuman, Here Krishna Here Ram, Om Namoh Shivay, please bless me and help me.

The driver got down in front of a tall building.

“This is your address.”

“This one?” Totally abandoned type. Few mazars near by. On the other side was forest. Totally dark.  

I went into the building campus. There was a temple near the entrance. Some sadhus and pundits were busy in some puja and chanting holy mantras.

Taxi driver muttered something.

I heard, “Hindu bitch.”

Who? Where? Or me? There was no one. So am I a bitch? Oh Krishna! Protect me.

In a split second rapes of Syria, Iraq, Egypt, Nigeria etc., danced in my mind.  

I shouted, “The policeman has the number of your car. Take me to the proper address.”

He laughed at me.

“Listen, listen. The policeman is our brother and a local. He will not help you against us.”

I was taken aback. In India Muslims are treated like VIPs. But here they are naming me as bitch. What a great bond? Actually nobody cares for Hindus and Indians.

A whistle thud and a guard was standing in front of me.

He was like a demon. Tall, strong, tilak on his broad forehead, moustache, and blue eyed. He laughed at me.

“Yes madam. Why are you disturbing us here?”

I was shocked at his behavior. I was just enquiring about the right address only and he was blaming me of disturbing him.

“Please help me. I have to go to Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers.

Asking a Brahman for help!... What is this?

He appeared more dangerous.

Here Krishna, Here Ram.

I kissed my blue sapphire ring.

The demon opened the door of the car and sat next to me. I minimized myself into the corner. He roared, “Driver.”

The driver came running and puffing.

“Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers. No ifs and buts”

My blood froze. The driver became pale. He was hurling abuses some time in English, some time in their local dialects.

“Donkey, bastard, pig…!

On his name plate was written Ram Kumar Mishra.

We reached “Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers.

The taxi stopped. I got down.

“Open the boot.” I shouted.

The driver also got down. He was middle aged man.

“Open the boot.”

“Give me the money first.”

“I will give you the fare but first give my luggage.”

“No first give the money. Educated Hindu women run away without paying.”

I was shocked and surprised. How poorly they think of educated Hindu women?

“I was told that taxi drivers like you ran away with luggage as well as money. Open the boot take out my luggage and take your money.”

Ultimately again Ram Kumar Mishra roared ,”Give her luggage. Don’t talk much. I am here.”

Blue sapphire – strong skull capped man and women passed by. All were staring at me.

At last both I and my luggage were safe.

I called the niece and she took me to her small flat. I told her about my experience. “These taxi driver scoundrels are all cheat and consider we educated Hindu girls as second grade citizens.”

Luckily I have got a shelter so easily. I enjoyed my first night with this unknown niece of my neighbor. Next day I strolled in the campus of the building. All very imposing, huge and luxurious houses. Long, bright foreign made cars.

The niece said,”This is very good, posh and safe colony. No local or non-Hindu live here. All are outsiders. Some are Europeans. So no tension, no crime. Women are very safe here.

I spent the next night with her. The next morning I took a train to Knowledge Village where I was appointed as an academic executive in a university. My job would take the full day. I would have to find out a room near my workplace.

The flat of the niece was near the ghetto of Muslims where majority of the people were in silk and cloth business.

The train arrived. The gate of the coach was quite wide. I was feeling clumsy and uncomfortable…

Large number of locals entered the coach in like rowdies.

I saw four empty seats. I tried to occupy one. The table cum board which had been locked with the seat suddenly opened and hit my hips.

“We are playing chess here,” a well built, fair complexioned man said. He had opened the table without any warning. On two other seats were big sized men. One seat was empty. People in the coach were laughing on me. They were all rich people wearing expensive clothes and carrying briefcases. They all must be going to markets, every morning and returning together in the evening. They must be playing chess every day. But the same thing could have been said politely. They were all local weavers except me. “Are all locals as uncivilized?”

I cursed myself. Coward! Coward Hindu woman. I felt like crying. Humiliation, anger, frustration, shame, self-condemnation and what not. They cannot defeat me in arguments. Academically I was much higher. Hindus are treated so badly everywhere.

I took the cheapest room near the Knowledge Park. The hotel has strange rules. They made me first deposit entire amount. If I leave the hotel earlier,

“Take back your money when you leave,” came a terse reply. I have no reply. We are third class citizen.

I kissed my blue sapphire to get some solace.

Leaving my suitcase in the room, I went out for a walk. It was very hot outside. But I wanted to see the city. I also ate a tasteless burger and drank coffee.

Fast and furious winds started blowing. I rushed towards the hotel. I put an overcoat to protect my sari. The winds did not stop. They became more furious. The shade by the road side was crowded with the people waiting for the taxis. Taxi drivers were giving preference to locals and people from ghettos. This was another shock. In India there is racism in everything.  After an hour I got a cab and reached the hotel.

Everybody was surprised. How could I reach on time in this weather otherwise,”Indians are never on time.”

Next day again weather was very bad and taxis were asking four times the amount. Very difficult situation. Almost impossible to reach the office. It was raining very heavily now. My umbrella turned inside out. I was very badly tired. “Taxi” I yelled.

Nobody stopped. I was running to reach on time. I requested a policeman. But he was also of no help. I reached a tourist office. The attendant told me,” You cannot sit here. Office time is over, so I have to lock the office.”  On his name plate was written Amar Paswan.

The weather was very cruel.

My skin was burning and my head was spinning. Only I remained there in the storm like King Lear, plunging, drowning, and floating in the storm.

I could not reach my office nor to my hotel.

I saw a temple nearby. I rushed inside. I saw a small cabin type shelter. I sat there on the ground. There I got respite from rain and storm.

I have just lain down…I removed my wet sari…went off to sleep.

“Wake up, get up!”

“Let me sleep.”

“It is morning. Wake up.”

I opened my eyes. A very smart, fair skinned and sharp featured young man was shaking me.

I screamed loudly.

He moved back, shocked and scared.

I got up.

He came near me with a glass of hot milk.

“Thank Baba Vishvanath, you are alive.”

Tears dripped down my cheeks.

“Why did you come here?”

“I could not get any taxi and there was heavy rain and storm outside.”

“Where do you have to go?”

“Raja Harish Chandra Road, Amrapali Towers, B-Blok, Flat No.101.”

I tried to get up. I faltered. He lifted me by holding my hand. Again I stumbled. He put his hand around my waist and lifted me. I did not resist, rather I liked his touch.

“Are you drunk or drug addict?”

“No. I am tired and hungry.”

He touched my forehead and hand.

“You have fear.”

“May be! I am feeling very weak and exhausted.”

“Do you have disprin or paracetamol with you?”

“No.”

He gave a call to someone and told that Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj was speaking. He ordered to bring disprin or paracetamol tablets.

He took me to his room. I lied down on his bed. A boy brought the medicines. He gave the money. He gave me biscuits to eat before medicines. He dissolved the disprin in water and gave me. I took the paracetamol with the milk. I was feeling much better.

After some time he brought two plates of aaloo-puris. We both ate breakfast

together and took tea.

“What is the time?” I asked.

“Eleven…morning.”

“Now I have to leave.”

“I won’t let you go alone.”

He gripped my hand firmly.

“Why?”

“Taxi and auto drivers, rickshaw pullers, beggars, drug addicts, juggi and ghetto dwellers, etc., may cheat you or rob you.”

“I feel scared.”

“Of Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj? Then run away.”

He removed his hand. This time I gripped it more tightly.

I was amazed but happy that a Brahman priest is so kind and caring for a Harijan woman.

He took me to the taxi stand and asked the driver to drop me at my hotel and not to charge any money. I was surprised the respect he had in the mind of the people.

I came back to my hotel room and removed my dirty clothes…lay down on the bed crying…and slept.

I was wrong.

Yes. Brahman. Male. And me?

Female. Hindu.. Harijan. Alone

I took Disprin. Hotel was full of people. But all were tired. Some were Sheikhs, some foreigners, a few lean and thin Indians. But all of them were tired and exhausted.

On the next morning, I got up. Absolutely happy and tension free. I kissed my blue sapphire. I checked out the room, collected my luggage, handed over the keys, and took my money back.  

I finished my coffee. Ate the pizza, swallowed the dissprin again and called the cab.

Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj cured a sick worm. I failed but Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj had won.

I reached the temple. Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj received me and alighted my luggage.

“I will live here permanently.”

Pundit Vishnu Prasad Bhardwaj smiled, gripped my hand and took me to his room.

I kissed my blue sapphire.

  DR. YOGESH SHARMA