Princess Hug

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

He lifted me from the ground in a princess-style hug, our hearts pressed against each other, beating in unison. My face hovered just inches from his. When our eyes met, it felt as though he was searching for an answer—to an unasked question—trying to peer straight into my soul.

He swallowed hard. My breath turned unsteady, my lips trembling. Without realising it, he licked his own lips, and his gaze drifted from my eyes to my mouth.

I drew in a sharp breath. Breathing became difficult—deep yet uneven. His face leaned in slowly. I froze without meaning to, my head lifting of its own accord to meet him.

A sudden warmth brushed against my lips. My eyes fell shut as my mouth melted into his. His tongue caressed the inside of my mouth, his arms tightening around me. Heat radiated from his hands and through my body, even though the rest of him felt cold.

What are the imaginary places tou would like to.go?

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

When I close my eyes, I can see it so clearly.
A home I built once in my imagination—resting on the slope of a quiet mountain. A tall waterfall tumbles down its side, the river at the foot flowing like a calm, silver ribbon. From the riverbank to where the flowers begin, a wide stretch of soft green grass spreads out, cool and tender underfoot.

Then comes the sea of yellow—sunflowers or wild mountain blooms—stretching endlessly, warm as sunlight. In the middle of that golden bed stands a beautiful house. A simple wooden fence surrounds it, starting right where the first flowers rise. There’s a small gate that opens into the flower field, and a line of stepping stones leading straight to the white door—up the little steps and into the home.

And inside that home live my parents, my granny, and my elder cousin who has always been more like a sibling than anything else.
I want to go there.

And there are other places I ache to visit—places that live only in stories, yet feel as real to me as anything in this world.

The Buckwheat Flower Field from Goblin: The Lonely God—endless white blossoms swaying under a quiet sky.
The Moon Supreme’s Palace from Love Between Fairy and Devil—cold, beautiful, and vast like a dream carved from loneliness.
The Meul Mang home from Doom at Your Service—a place where everything feels fragile yet strangely comforting.

Honestly, this list could go on forever if I don’t stop myself. There are countless places in my imagination—worlds shaped by fiction and longing—where I want to go. But for now, I’ll stop here.

Eyes like sunlight passing through amber

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

It was a warm, silky winter morning. I sat on a stone stage with my Tulips for Augusta by Betty Neels, surrounded by flowerbeds in a quiet courtyard held together by the old arched pillars of a Rajasthani fort.
There were a few tourists around. A newlywed couple drew my attention for a moment, and something about the place—the calm, the colours, the soft winter sun—slowly drifted me into my own little world.
In that world, I imagined being with a tall, dark, handsome man who noticed my kohl-lined eyes, saying they reminded him of sunlight through amber glass. And with a gentle smile and that warm look in his eyes, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The Stolen Glances

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

On the way to my college, I caught him stealing glances at me. He was a good-looking guy with big eyes framed by curled lashes, fair skin, dark wavy hair neatly styled, a sharp long nose, and cupid’s bow lips—dark red in color. His height must have been around six feet.

At first, I thought it was just a coincidence. Why would someone like him look at me? I’m just a simple, medium-height girl. But from that day on, it became his habit to steal glances. I caught him many times looking at me, and whenever our eyes met, he would quickly look away.
One day, I somehow managed to get a seat on the crowded bus. When it was my stop to get down, I found him standing beside me, pushing people aside so I could step out easily.
The act was kind and thoughtful—but I don’t know why, I felt scared.

I started walking quickly toward the college gate and realized he was following me. I increased my pace but couldn’t shake him off. As we reached the gate, he walked past me, slowed down deliberately, bent his head slightly, and whispered, “I think I’ve fallen for you.”

Before I could react, he was gone.

My breath caught; my heartbeat quickened. My throat went dry and my lips stuck together. I felt as if something inside me was sinking.
Somehow, I managed to move toward the college canteen. I sat on a bench and asked the canteen boy for some water. While drinking, I looked over the rim of the glass—and there he was, sitting five or six benches away in the far corner with his friends.

He had noticed me and was smiling warmly. His friends were looking at me too, asking him something, to which he just shrugged and grinned. My heart leapt to my throat. Yet, there was something in his gaze—something deep and unspoken.

Before I could run away from there, he stood up, motioned to his friends, and they began to leave. As he passed by me, he slowly placed his hand on the table in front of me and left a small pocket diary.

I stared at it in disbelief, then turned to see if he was still there—maybe laughing at me. But to my surprise, he turned at the same moment, grinned again, and nodded toward the diary before disappearing around the corridor corner.

The painful chapter

~ dharkanein ~ 5 Comments
Image credit; Adam Bixby @ Unsplash

She turned and walked, swaying, through the forest of her mind,
The vision rising up ahead now scatters on the slow axis of breath.
Many companions came and went, yet none I ever found to call my own.
Today, once again, life begins to surge within these helpless states,
Come, let us sit and speak, and hear the painful chapters of our tale.

Feeling Unloved? How Book Characters Distort Our View of Relationships

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

“I am so deeply immersed in books and their characters that I sometimes feel lonely and unloved. This is because the way female characters are loved and taken care of in fiction leaves me feeling neglected.
Male characters are ready to burn down the world for them. They lovingly tuck a loose strand of hair behind an ear, or gently tilt the female character’s (FC’s) chin, asking her to look at them. With a sweet kiss, they ask what she’s done to them. They are often lovingly possessive, warning that the girl is theirs and that anyone who dares to touch or bother her they won’t hesitate to kill them.
In a nutshell, fictional relationships have raised the standard so high that no one in the real world dares to reach that scale.”

The 7.00 P.M. Appointment

~ dharkanein ~ Leave a comment

Five years and counting…
Raghav sits at the same table every day and orders the same coffee without fail.
At seven each evening, the door opens, the wind chimes sound, and a sweet smell of Tuberose spreads in the air. With this, Raghav enters.
It’s not that odd for someone to come to the same café every day, but what makes it peculiar is this: no matter the weather, the traffic, or any missed appointments, Raghav never misses his seven p.m. appointment with this café.
Just a week ago, his father was hospitalized after suffering a heart attack. But Raghav, being Raghav, did something extraordinary: as soon as he helped board his unconscious father into the ambulance, he checked his watch. He then signaled his younger brother to accompany their father and left for the café himself.
Many times I’ve tried to make him give up this weird attachment to this particular café, but no… he never listened.
Now you tell me, Shobhna, what am I supposed to do to make him return to normalcy?