A New Dawn

Life is like a roller coaster ride – a series of ups, downs and some circling around. And while we are busy understanding the dynamics of this system, life slowly slips away – moment by moment, day by day and year by year. So make sure to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Like life itself, the journey of The Author’s Blog has been one hell of a roller coaster ride. We had our share of ups and downs, and now we are ready for circling around. We often hear the phrase ‘all good things come to an end’ without considering the underlying fact that every end must have a beginning. This is the beginning of something new, something refreshing, something exclusive – this is the beginning of a new phase.

You, our readers, can expect two to three posts every week from TAB team, and guests posts shall be updated as per the frequency of submissions. To celebrate the beginning of this new phase TAB team has decided to introduce literature pieces in Hindi as well. So the writers, and readers, who enjoy Hindi literature, get ready for an amazing ride. If you think you have something to share that resonates with the content of our site, feel free to drop an email at theauthorsblogg@gmail.com. Our team will contact you within 48 hours to let you know ‘if’ and ‘when’ your content shall be posted on our site.

Put on your reading gear and get ready to enjoy this roller coaster ride with us. We serve everything from romance to suspense, comedy to tragedy, drama to thriller, except disappointment. Fellow bloggers are welcome to comment on or criticize the content shared on our site. We request you to refrain from using hate speech against the writer and fellow bloggers for any matter of conflict can be solved amiably. Go through our archive to enjoy the short stories, poetry and articles posted by our team till now. Happy reading.

That’s all folks! Come back for more.



Not Enough

He stood at the edge of the mountain road that ascended the mighty mountain like a serpent around its victim. He stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed at the deep valley below & his conscience struggling with the challenging quandary, to jump or not to jump. Of course he had made up his mind hours ago, but then, standing at the edge of life itself, the task seemed impossible. But maybe it was because he was pondering over something he had already decided upon. It seemed logical – logic that bent and warped with every passing moment. Logic that led him to believe that securing 87% marks was not enough. Securing 19th position in the class was enough. Just qualifying the college-entry-level exam was not enough. Distancing yourself from every means of entertainment to secure good marks in board exams was not enough. But it was not entirely his fault. His being was moulded by the social strain of society and hardened by the booming competition.

So he jumped, dismissing the hurdling thoughts and accepting the ultimate truth – the one backed by logic. For a moment he felt a gush of fresh air across his face, but then it was only the branches and leaves. He hit one and bounced off another until his body stuck in a thick alpine.


Four hours later 2 teams of disaster-SOS department arrived at the already crowded spot. TV reporters were busy interviewing a fellow, reportedly the only eye-witness. He was one who alerted the police about the incident. It took the SOS team around 30 minutes to descend the deep gorge and rescue the boy from the thick green alpine cover. Once on the boy reached the safety of the ground, a SOS unit doctor examined him.

“A broken limb, another wounded, dislocated shoulder, possible fracture in the right arm and some bruises. No serious head injury. He will live.”, the doctor declared.

“He is a lucky fellow. The thick tree cover along the slope saved him.”, said the team leader.

“How much?”, the doctor asked.

“A hundred feet, give or take”, replied the team leader.

“Lucky indeed”, said the doctor.

Somewhere in the medical van, struggling with fading consciousness, the disfigured boy lay waste to his latest failure. One last thought crossed his grumpy mind as his consciousness gave in to the overpowering anaesthesia – a hundred feet is not enough!


Fridays with DX



I am a tree, standing firm in the middle of a field, ready to take everything that will come and offer everything that I possess.

When the wind blows harder on me, I don’t confront that. No, I don’t, I won’t, I can’t. I know, that would be a failure. I just conform to wind as long as I can and then I surrender as confrontation is not my disposition. The wind blows me with itself with all its pride and power. My little leaves detach from me and I just see that happen helplessly. The wild wind takes me to places and I, lifeless and leaf-less, yield in its direction, agreeing on what winds says to me and what it wants from me.

When the wind calms downs, when its power gets drained, it leaves me in some unknown grassland where there are no standing trees, just the dead ones like me. Then I wonder why wind did this to me? And I find no answer to my affliction.

So that was the spring for me, the autumn has yet to come. But I, being a tree, will take what comes to me and will offer what I possess.

A little about Analogies: Does it happen to you that when you see an object or anything around you, it gives you a thought that defines the life quite perfectly and leaves you contemplative for a moment? Well, that’s what Analogies is all about. By simple things around us, what can we perceive about life. Can we really see life through what is already visible?


Holi Hooligans ~ {SS #2}

There were colours all around; in the air, on the ground, and every living being was covered covered in them. The surroundings were soaked in captivating essence of various flowers. People were dancing and cheering all around. The environment was filled with so much energy that the usually morbid beings looked as if they had been injected with a new variety of drug, something ecstatic.  The sounds of laughter and joy together cultivated a state of bliss. The smiling faces burst into laughter every time a relatively clean person was soaked in colourful water or bombarded with water balloons.

Soon the thrilling yet peaceful environment was disturbed by the high pitched roaring of extremists, who came in groups, laden with balloons filled with dirty water and pockets filled with tacky colours bottles – the holi hooligans. The smiles faded away giving in to fear, and joy turned into hysteria as the hooligans infiltrated the gathering, celebrating in their own way, exploiting the virtue of a festival they were vaguely familiar with.

The music was still on, colours still soared the sky as the festivities continued, people still celebrating – some willingly and others unwillingly. No one objected and no one cried; the festival of colours, dull and bright.


Enjoy a new story every Friday from my side. Feel free to drop your feedback in the comments below. Any sort of criticism is welcomed. Spread the word!

Fridays with DX




As he moved ahead in his path he saw a long road ahead, a never-ending pavement going up and down at successive summits and valleys. At some places, the road was taking turns and getting straight again. At the both sides of the road, he saw long grassland. The knee-height grass was waving in the direction of the wind and coming back to its position again. He looked at the sky, a few birds were flying in circles, neither going up, nor coming down, but a certain bird on the earth was taking its first flight to the sky.

He started to walk with long steps and in no time he realized where did he want to go? What was his destination? Where was he heading? And in this utter confusion, he saw a hut almost at horizon, illuminated by torch from inside. ‘That is my destination.’ He decided. He progressed in his path quickly. He kept on walking and walking and when his legs started to ache and back got stiff he reached the hut. His hand and face had wrinkles and nerves were protuberant on the skin. He was old now and the road was not taking any turn after that house. It was such a dead-end.

A little about Analogies: Does it happen to you that when you see an object or anything around you, it gives you a thought that defines the life quite perfectly and leaves you contemplative for a moment? Well, that’s what Analogies is all about. By simple things around us, what can we perceive about life. Can we really see life through what is already visible?

Soar[ed] ~ {SS #1}

The sole of his right shoe made a squeaky sound as he walked along the road, loud music thumping his inner lobes. His eyes, glazed as a winter’s morning, were lost in a distant summer; a pool of memories soothing the aching soul. His body seemed to be on autopilot while his mind scavenged parts of a different world, of a different time – neverland of memories.

His hands lay vigil on the steering as his dreamy eyes sought some relief, a reward for their incessant efforts. The loud music on the music player failed to evoke even a sliver of interest in him. The musical notes passed through his habitual mind, as they had thousands of time before, leaving no impact whatsoever. It seemed as if his mind, preoccupied with cramped and limited thoughts, had resolved to maintain its state of being.

His shoe squeaked along the path, his body still on autopilot, his mind still trying to make sense of the complex past. Amid the cerebral rubble, the sun seemed to be a bit over-enthusiastic as it appeared out of nowhere, its brilliance increasing every moment. The pale yellow light broke the interim trance as it met the glazing eyes, and suddenly he saw a truck moving towards him at an incomprehensible speed. The truck driver’s dreamy eyes widened in a state of hysteria as his vigil hand and stern legs seemed victims of a relentless fate. Their frozen eyes met for a brief moment, their minds aligning in a bizarre chemistry as their distant thoughts collided in single pool of horror – Oh fuck!


Enjoy a new story every Friday from my side. Feel free to drop your feedback in the comments below. Any sort of criticism is welcomed. Spread the word!

Fridays with DX



The sun is burning the sweated black skins of a bunch of two dozen people gathered at the back side of a delivery mini truck. A man is standing on it. Throwing food packets. Each person’s hands are waving in his direction as a packet of biscuits is still in the air and everyone’s gaze is fixed on it.

Not far from the mini truck, there is a naked child sitting on the hot and dry land. His soft skin against the eroded surface like butter on a rough toast. He is eating a loaf of bread but you can still see dried tear trails on his both cheeks.

Through STILLS writer would portray various phases and faces of life in the form of stills. Like a photographer. There would be no movement but each element would say its story. There would be no dialogues but emotions would be communicated.

So the concept is very simple. a photographer can capture a moment, but can a writer do the same?