A Little Bit Of You: of Roshogollas and Rifles [Book #1]
4 parts Ongoing Every generation leaves behind a wound and a whisper.
But for them? It was desire unfulfilled.
~◇ ~
Suvarna Dutta
She was a chaotic poetry- loud in laughter, quiet in pain. She loved too much and felt too deeply. Her world wasn't kind- parents who broke each other...and her, a home that echoed the shatter of broken plates and hatred more than love and laughter. But hoping was something she never compromised with. Neither was loving.
Her tears carried stories, her smiles carried the warmth of a sunshine that shone the morning after a kalboishakhi storm. She was written in her own ink- messy, misplaced yet non-smudgable. She was unsavable- she knew that.
She just wanted someone who wouldn't flinch at her truth.
Aditya Aryan Chatterjee Taylor
Aditya wasn't carved out of cold stones and still waters- He was a storm and a ray of sunlight at the same time. Warm and gentle in his gaze, fierce and relentless in his determination. His smile understood pain, his eyes didn't just look- they consoled, comforted and assured. His steps were kind and his strides- seldom confident.
Torn between bloodlines and belonging, he was lost- often trying to fit into unstitched worlds.
But in the end, his heart- it didn't belong to a country, it bled for one.
~◇~
They were the children of promises- promises that lingered amidst glances across the two terraces on lazy afternoons, of locked orbs in pandal crowds, in the folds of black and white sarees and Tussar silks.
Promises might as well be forgotten, but memories?
They stay.
They haunt.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦.