প্রহর(PRAHARA)(TIME) - Sinchan Banerjee - Wattpad

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প্রহর(PRAHARA)(TIME)

SinchanBanerjee

Reads 82
Votes 6
Parts 8
Time 9m

Reads 82
Votes 6
Parts 8
Time 9m

SinchanBanerjee

poem traditional

It's not a story,it's a bunch of poems. Each poem describes a particular time of a day. According to "VEDAS",a full day has 8 total parts.They are called "PRAHARA".Each of them consits 3 hours of time.4 of them are in the part of "DINACHARIYA"(Day time) and other 4 are of "RATRICHARIYA"(Night time).
   Besides,every poem style is different than each other. Cause we can describe things with the help of different type,style,tradition,rituals and many more for a particular thing,to make sequence more perfect and touchy. That's why I studied about many traditional facts,rituals,contries and more to get the specimen for to apply here to make it feel the best as much as possible for me. So u can find vibes of many different countries, religions etc etc different in each of them.
    So here are those poems by which I tried to uphold the vibes of different times of a full day.All Rights Reserved

poem traditional

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8 parts

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The Twisted Tales by LuciferKreuger

A place where true love expires, good people get fired and beings are nothing but dust. Where stalkers are heroes, society makes zeroes and madness is not in the crust. Some people are killers, and that's just the pillars of what is essentially rust. When you feel you are mad, but that isn't so bad in a world that is oh so unjust. They'll kill you by car, or from quite afar in a world where all life is fleeting. Don't try to protect, you'll just end up wrecked, for you know their hearts are not beating. They'll kill you my sweet, and not drop a beat, for my story is only just heating. Power means all, even more for the small, but power has a habit of retreating. The bodies mount up, many lives will breakup, as I'm here to just tell a story. Don't look in the hill, though it is quite a thrill, I've heard it can get quite gory. Don't play with the heart, and don't think you're too smart, or you'll die with none of the glory. All are mad from the start, but you played your part, in the world of pure purgatory. Alas look a ghost, be careful you're not toast, you must want to see what I see. Society is ruthless, protection is fruitless, for in madness is when you are free. Perfection is dead, from the wounds we all bled, a cruel fate we did not foresee. While outsiders are safer, if only by a wafer, you can still hear them utter a plea. Now my story is frightening, but oh so inviting, so come now and give it a whirl. I can promise some danger, so don't be a stranger, watch now - we will see it unfurl.

Mahabharats Unknown Mistress by Rubaloshyne

The greenish-blue orbs stared at the group gathering below as she hide behind the curtain watching the crowd. Maharishi, gurus, yogis from all over were sitting infront if the large fire chanting the sacred mantras. Her kohl drawn eyes widened as she let out a gasp,stumbling behind. Her face turned into a rosy flush as a strong hand gripped her shoulders, preventing her from falling down. " Brother...I," She began, blushing brightly as the man placed his finger on her pale lips before walking past her. She pouted and elbowed his ribs, peering from behind him. " I want to see! What's so special ?" She huffed,crossing her hands over her chest as she pouted. " Curiosity Killed the Cat...Come along...if Maharaj found us sneaking around...he would be extremely displeased," The handsome man said as he gripped her hand firmly and dragged her away. She turned her face and sighed seeing Maharaj Draupad face beaming with pride and happiness as he loudly proclaimed that Lord Shiva has blessed him and the entire Panchal nation. " Will he ever look at me like that?," she asked in a forlorn tone causing the elder man to sigh and wrap his arms around her. " I hope not! You my little one deserves more than his desire for revenge," Satyajit said as he pat her shoulder. ****************************************** Aaratrika's life changed the moment her parents conducted the yagna. She became the forgotten princess of Panchal in the awakening of Panchali. Torn apart between her feelings with Hastinapur's crown prince's, she must decide if Duryodhan is worth her father's wrath or is her feelings for Yusdhistir worth her sister's marriage. Rewritten from my original story which I took down due to some personal issues. Aaratrika...Princess...Queen...most importantly Mahabharata's Unknown Mistress...the woman who watched every plot...scheme's...and idea and yet remain behind the shadows never to be known.

Not so Love by Ash_Vn

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The Five Stages of Transition: From deception to liberty by TimosKamvysis

The miracle is present, next to and within you. The miracle is you. When you write poetry you hide in a bottle a message written on paper. Then you ship it in the ocean and you let it travel across the world. One day, somebody may graciously find it below a steep rock on the beach and be curious enough to open it. Then he will read the message enclosed. For poetry time is irrelevant and to be specific this poetry has defied time and difficulties. The first chapter 'Crash the Idols' is a sociological approach in the poetry of the dogma, VERITAS (Latin meaning of truth), and images that society encourages people to believe. Are these true, do they have any meaning at all? Or they are just hallucinations of the society of consumption? The second chapter 'The transformations of Vishnu' is a reference to the changes of Vishnu into different forms and existences according to Indian scripts. We are subject to a continuous and ruthless change, since the time we were born. This change is considered a determining factor of survivorship. The 'Myth story of an adventurer' is wandering in the ascetic communities of Mount Athos with a history of more than 1000 years. The incessant seeking of light and freedom is a driving force of interpreting modern life with a more charismatic byzantine approach, in regards to philosophy and theology. 'Dialogues of Despair' is a modern song of songs, where contradictory powers clash and the winner is thirst. Thirst for life and Thirst for Knowledge. Thirst of Love and Thirst for Sacrifice. 'The Silent Time of mysticism' is about the inexplicable echo of our memories, our faith, our emotions, and death right in the corner. The understanding of our Being is an understanding of the Collective Being and contribution to that.

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"mending bonds", the union duology, book 1✔️ by HariVandita

cover credits, @prapti_1234 Editor @mrilina *under editing, just correcting the spelling errors, do read if you've no problem with it* mending bonds, the union duology, book 1. mahabharata, the gratest spiritual epic of all time. things happened in the epic, that still happens in the world. would it have been grate if a union prevented the epic from happening again? *** what if 2 unexpected persons heard about karna's trueth, after the rang bhoomi event, , "duryodhana, karna's best friend, and arjun, karna's arch enimy? would they be enemys, at all? what if our natkhat kanha decides to make his appearance in the kalapradarshan event when karna's being insulted? would everything be fine? ? would the bonds be mended? would the pandavas and the kauravas be one and together? what about mamanshri shakuni? this is the first book of the union duology, where the bonds between brothers would be mended. . if karn would be saved? if kunti would gather courage to speak the trueth of her firstborn? would radha ma accept this? find out for yourselves please note. this story is just a figment of the author's imagination. please, don't see it any other way round, like me Defaming an epic i respect and admire the most.

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The Twisted Tales

A place where true love expires, good people get fired and beings are nothing but dust. Where stalkers are heroes, society makes zeroes and madness is not in the crust. Some people are killers, and that's just the pillars of what is essentially rust. When you feel you are mad, but that isn't so bad in a world that is oh so unjust. They'll kill you by car, or from quite afar in a world where all life is fleeting. Don't try to protect, you'll just end up wrecked, for you know their hearts are not beating. They'll kill you my sweet, and not drop a beat, for my story is only just heating. Power means all, even more for the small, but power has a habit of retreating. The bodies mount up, many lives will breakup, as I'm here to just tell a story. Don't look in the hill, though it is quite a thrill, I've heard it can get quite gory. Don't play with the heart, and don't think you're too smart, or you'll die with none of the glory. All are mad from the start, but you played your part, in the world of pure purgatory. Alas look a ghost, be careful you're not toast, you must want to see what I see. Society is ruthless, protection is fruitless, for in madness is when you are free. Perfection is dead, from the wounds we all bled, a cruel fate we did not foresee. While outsiders are safer, if only by a wafer, you can still hear them utter a plea. Now my story is frightening, but oh so inviting, so come now and give it a whirl. I can promise some danger, so don't be a stranger, watch now - we will see it unfurl.