Short-story
Bibek’s visit at his friend’s bungalow
Chaitanyamoi Chetia
St. Joseph’s High School, Moranhat
It was springtime, and the flowers were in full bloom. Bibek’s annual examination came to an end, and he was now free from worries and anxieties: like other days, he need not have to cling to books now. He requested his mother to go to a beautiful place nearby, but his mother replied in the negative. She told him that a few months ago, they took him to Chabua, a small tea city in upper Assam. Though he did not give much heed to his mother’s sayings all the time, he nodded, showing he is listening.
One fact made him feel proud when he was told that Academy Award Actress Julie Christie was born in Chabua in India when it was under British rule. His father had the habit of saying this.
One morning, Bibek visited his best friend, Samit’s bungalow during the springtime for a day’s stay. Flowers were in full bloom in the front garden. Honey bees were buzzing here and there; butterflies were also seen flying everywhere; their presence had made the flower garden more beautiful. Seeing the bees, Bibek wondered in his mind, is there a beehive at home! He stood amid the full bloom flowers, and gazing at the honeybees coming to collect nectar and pollens from every flower made him feel ecstatic.
Samit asked him to come to the front veranda to drink a glass of milk and snacks. While leaving the flower garden, the bees were moving in the swarm. Bibek thought of annoying the busy bees by spraying the hand sanitizer he had in his pocket; he sprayed and immediately ran towards the veranda steps. As soon as he sat down, he cried out in pain.
Samit was shocked and shouted, “What happened!”
He did not receive any reply as Bibek was in deep pain. Samit looked down and saw a bee was falling on to the floor. He understood that a bee must have stung Bibek.
Samit was clueless about what to do. However, without delaying, he fetched some ice cubes and applied them on the sting sites of the hand. Rubbing the ice cubes made him feel relaxed. Samit told Bibek to relax for a while in his bed.
That afternoon Samit was reading a newspaper, and he saw that a new movie has released. He quickly came near Bibek and discussed if they should watch the movie in the cinema hall. Bibek replied in the affirmative. After a few hours, Samit asked his mother to tell the chauffeur to take both of them outside.
Samit’s mother happily replied, “Of course, go and enjoy.”
The car came. They took their rear seat and set out. The car moved on through the alley of the lush green tea garden. Samit asked the chauffeur to take the car fast as the movie was going to start soon. They finally reached on time. But Samit’s mother did not know where they were going, as the movie was not meant for kids and was full of violence.
It was sunset, and the movie ended. Samit was in deep thought about the course of the movie. The chauffeur was about to accelerate the speed of the car; just then, Samit suddenly asked the chauffeur to stop the vehicle. The chauffeur and Bibek were shocked. The chauffeur, having heard the order, instantly stopped the car with a short break.
“What happened?” the chauffeur asked.
“I want to drive the car myself,” replied Samit.
The chauffeur explained that he is a small boy and ineligible.
Samit angrily replied, “It’s my order; just give me the key and go to the rear seat, or else I would send you out of the car.”
Now the chauffeur was deeply confused and perplexed as to what to do. As he had been thinking about all these things, Samit opened the door, pushed him out of the car, locked the doors and started driving.
Bibek pointed for not driving the car.
Samit said, “Bibek, driving is fun; you do not worry.”
“But if your parents happened to know that you are driving on the high way, they will surely punish you,” replied Bibek.
Samit replied happily, “How will they know? If you think that the chauffeur would report or complain about it, then forget about it, he will not, for he feared my parents very much.”
Bibek thought deeply about what to do now. After a few seconds, he got an idea. He took his mobile and copied the chauffeur’s phone number written on the rear glass of the car. He quickly messaged the chauffeur.
Samit accelerated the car’s speed. Bibek’s heartbeat increased with fear, lest Samit might dash the car somewhere. But the chauffeur had been running and following the car, and due to the rush of numerous vehicles on the highway, he could not hear the alarming tone of the message.
Bibek had been noticing that the chauffeur was following them. Now he gave a missed call to the chauffeur, and thankfully, the chauffeur opened his mobile and checked and read out the message. The message read thus: “I am Bibek, Samit’s friend. You do what I am saying. You take your phone near to your ear for a minute. I am sure Samit will stop the car.”
The chauffeur was pretty confused, but he took his phone near his ear. And now Bibek quickly shouted near Samit’s ear, “Samit look, the chauffeur is making a call through his phone to your parents.” Samit stopped the car immediately; he looked from the rear-view mirror. The chauffeur acted as if he were seriously making a call.
Samit tensely said, “Are you sure? Is he making a call to my parents?”
“Yes, he is making the call to your parents,” replied Bibek.
Samit quickly opened the car window and shouted to the chauffeur, “Chauffeur uncle, please do not make a call. You can drive the car now.”
The chauffeur was confused that Samit ceased to drive the car; he quickly ran to the car and reached the car’s steering. Samit descended and went to the rear seat and requested the chauffeur not to tell these things to his parents.
The chauffeur added, “Ok, but you have to promise me that you will not drive any car until you get your driving licence.”
Samit said that he just wanted to drive like the man in the movie. But now, he promised the chauffeur that he would drive only after he would get the driving license.
Bibek and Samit entered the bungalow and gossiped about the adventurous evening, and went to bed to sleep after taking their dinner together well that night. They went to bed to sleep and they concluded that they would never go to a cinema hall to watch adult movies.
In the morning, they took their breakfast; Bibek was now ready to go home. He said, “You are my friend, and you shall remain my friend forever.”
Finally, Bibek commented, “In our next vacation, we shall watch Julie Christie’s acting in the popular film, Dr Zhivago.”
He continued, “I was told that it was a novel by Boris Pasternak and that this novel was made into a film which was released in the 1960s and 1970s of the last century.”
They both hugged each other. Samit called out, “Chauffeur uncle, take my friend safely in the car and drop him at his home.”
The gatekeeper opened the gate. Bibek entered inside the car, and the car went away slowly through the alley of the green tea bushes.
Short-story
The Abandoned Soul

Short Stories – Kumbh Series
Garvit Agarwal
Lucknow
Writer attended a Creative Writing Course by Takhte Writers and Publishers
The sun hung low over the Kumbh Mela, casting a warm golden hue across the throngs of devotees gathered along the banks of the sacred Ganges. The air buzzed with chants, laughter, and the rustling of colourful saris flapping in the wind. Pulkit and Ragini moved through the crowd, their hands intertwined but their expressions distant.
“Look at them, Ragini,” Pulkit said, forcing a smile as he gestured toward a group of children splashing in the water. “So carefree.”
“Carefree,” she echoed, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Must be nice.” Her gaze drifted to their son, Akash, who stood a few paces behind them, his eyes wide as he took in the chaos around him. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a habit that had grown more pronounced in recent months.
“Let’s just find a spot,” Pulkit replied, his tone clipped. “We can’t stay here all day.”
As they settled near the ghat, the chanting grew louder, drowning out the silence that had settled between them. They exchanged a glance, a shared understanding of the growing weight of their decision.
“Pulkit,” Ragini began, her voice shaking slightly. “Are we really—”
“We have to,” he interrupted, the determination in his eyes hardening. “It’s for the best.”
Hours passed, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows on the ground. Ragini watched as Pulkit knelt beside Akash, who was now fixated on a butterfly fluttering nearby. “Hey, buddy,” Pulkit said, his voice softer than before. “Want to chase that?”
Akash didn’t respond, lost in his world. Ragini felt a pang in her heart but quickly pushed it away. They were here for a reason, after all.
“We should go,” Pulkit said, rising to his feet. “It’s time.”
“Pulkit, I—”
“Ragini, we’ve talked about this.” He took a deep breath, his brow furrowed. “We can’t keep pretending everything is fine.”
With a heavy heart, they turned their backs on their son, leaving him by the ghat. “I’ll be right back, Akash,” Pulkit called over his shoulder, though he didn’t look back.
As they walked away, Ragini felt the weight of their decision settle in her chest like a stone. The laughter and chanting faded into a dull thrum, replaced by the sound of her heartbeat.
Later, as they listened to the preachings of a saint, a shift occurred. The saint’s voice boomed through the crowd, reverberating deep within Ragini. “Love is the greatest sacrifice,” he proclaimed. “To abandon those we love is to abandon our very souls.”
Pulkit stiffened beside her. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes!” she whispered, her heart racing. “We need to go back.”
They rushed back to the ghat, but the crowd had thickened, and panic set in as their eyes searched frantically. “Akash!” Ragini called, her voice rising above the chaos. “Where are you?”
“Stay calm,” Pulkit urged, though his voice trembled. “He can’t have gone far.”
Hours turned into days, and the relentless search for their son felt like a nightmare from which they could not wake. Each day, they returned to the ghat, calling his name until their voices were hoarse.
“Why did we leave him?” Ragini sobbed one evening, her tears mixing with the river’s water as she knelt by the bank. “What have we done?”
Pulkit sank to the ground beside her, his own eyes brimming with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured, his voice breaking.
“Where is he?” She cried, her heart shattered. “What if—what if he’s alone and scared?”
They were lost in their remorse, the vibrant colours of the Mela fading into a blur of sorrow. The river flowed steadily beside them, indifferent to their pain, as they clung to the hope that somehow, some way, they would find their son again.
Photo Courtesy – Mr Rajesh Balouria by Pixabay
Short-story
Triumph of Connection

Short Stories – Kumbh Series
Rutbik Gupta
Bilaspur, Chattisgarh
Writer attended a Creative Writing Course by Takhte Writers and Publishers
The Kumbh Mela pulsed with life, colours swirling like a painter’s palette. Krish and Shreya squeezed through the throngs of pilgrims, their parents trailing behind, eyes wide with wonder. The air buzzed with chants, the scent of incense thick around them.
“Look at all those people!” Shreya shouted, her voice barely rising above the chaos. “I feel like we are in a river of heads!”
“Just stay close,” Krish replied, his grip tightening around her hand. “We can’t lose each other here.”
Suddenly, a small voice broke through the din. “Mama! Papa!” A boy, no older than six, stood alone, tears streaking his dusty cheeks. Krish’s heart sank.
“Shreya, we have to help him,” he said, kneeling to the boy’s level. “What’s your name?”
“Teerth,” he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I can’t find my parents!”
“Don’t worry, Teerth. We’ll help you,” Shreya promised, her voice softening. “Where did you last see them?”
“By the river… I was looking at the fish,” Teerth whimpered, glancing around, panic rising. “They were right there!”
“Okay, follow us,” Krish said, standing tall, determination setting in. “We’ll find them.”
They moved through the crowd, the rhythm of drums and chants echoing around them. Krish scanned each face, searching for a hint of recognition. Shreya whispered encouragement to Teerth, who clung to her hand.
“Look!” Shreya pointed, spotting a frantic couple searching through the crowd. “Teerth, is that them?”
Teerth’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Mama! Papa!” He bolted towards them, the sound of his small feet hitting against the ground.
Krish and Shreya exchanged relieved glances, hearts racing. The couple raised Teerth into their arms, tears streaming down their faces.
“Thank you! Thank you!” the mother cried, her voice breaking.
“Thank you so much, children. You’ve been our saviour”, said the father, with teary-eyed.
“No problem,” Krish said, a smile breaking through the tension. “Just doing what’s right.”
As the family embraced, Krish and Shreya shared a knowing glance. The chaos of Kumbh Mela swirled around them, but at that moment, they felt the triumph of connection.
Photo Courtesy – Mr Rajesh Balouria by Pixabay
Short-story
Fury of Tomato

Advika Bhatnagar
Shikshantar School, Gurugram
Grade 3
Alice, a nine-year-old boy, lived in the countryside of Tinseltown with his Granny. He was a stubborn and edgy child. He liked to eat whatever he wanted and didn’t care much about Granny’s words. This made the old lady very sad.
“Granny, Granny, hunger pangs! I want pizza and chocolate ice cream for dinner,” said Alice
“Wait, child, I’m making delicious chicken soup, healthy multigrain bread, and a fresh salad,” answered Granny.
Alice got angry when he saw salad on the dining table. He yelled, “Again, cucumber, bell pepper, carrot, and tomato. Is that what I will eat? “No, no, no, never, not at all. No dinner tonight.” Granny got worried and left the house to get his favourite food.
Alice was all alone. In anger, he picked up the tomato and threw it at the wall. The red pulp of the tomato almost covered the mid-wall. He was shocked to see the pulp turning into a monster.
“Ha, Ha, Ha, you stubborn boy. Every day I see you trouble your Granny for food. When you hit me against the wall today, I felt hurt. I will teach you a lesson. I am the new king of vegetables. I rule the meals,” said the tomato monster. And then the monster followed him everywhere in the room.
Alice was so scared that he was running in different directions. Sitting under the table, he quietly prayed, “Oh God, please save me from this deadly monster.”
Alice rushed to his Granny’s room, wears her hat and robe. He picks up the embroidered, favourite napkin of the Granny and moves slowly towards the wall. He wipes the tomato pulp, and the monster disappears right away.
Alice gets the lesson of his life to value all food. He vows to take care of Granny, as her belongings protect him. When she was back, he hugged her and said, “I love you so much. I will eat whatever you cook for me.”
The writer attended Takhte Writers & Publishers’ Story Writing Writeshop at Kalasthali, Gurugram.
Photo Courtesy – Andre Taissin (xRUJcUTEp6Y) Unsplash
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