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Nothing is Romantic Now
Nothing is Romantic Now
Nothing is Romantic Now
Ebook28 pages18 minutes

Nothing is Romantic Now

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The days seem to have been ripped off the boughs, like the dry leaves spread over the dying grass on the ground, the climate seems to be writing requiems on those dry departing companions, the town appears to be afflicted. There ought to be some relief somewhere.

I was surprised to see how you wrote about love and body, how beautifully you infused your stories with tragic romanticism, and how every line seemed to be pulling the readers! On the back cover of your book, there was a black and white picture of your face. Even in that black and white photo, I could find a lot more about you.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherRaja Sharma
Release dateSep 2, 2012
ISBN9781476196374
Nothing is Romantic Now
Author

Raja Sharma

Raja Sharma is a retired college lecturer.He has taught English Literature to University students for more than two decades.His students are scattered all over the world, and it is noticeable that he is in contact with more than ninety thousand of his students.

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    Book preview

    Nothing is Romantic Now - Raja Sharma

    Nothing is Romantic Now

    Raja Sharma

    Copyright@2011 Raja Sharma

    Smashwords Edition

    All Rights Reserved

    Chapter One: Those Beautiful Days

    The buried memories begin to shape up as I turn the pages of the diary: the days are unpleasantly dull, without any enthusiasm and inspiration. Even my conscience does not help me to remember the nature of the days. The days seem to have been ripped off the boughs, like the dry leaves spread over the dying grass on the ground, the climate seems to be writing requiems on those dry departing companions, the town appears to be afflicted. There ought to be some relief somewhere.

    Something should be there to delight me. Am I so miserable to be deprived of those beautiful moments which are always in the lives of the young girls? I have stores of memory and I simply try to choose a few beautiful moments to amuse myself.

    Do you remember that day? You had hardly been there for one week. I was in love with your meditative stance. A mattress was spread over the floor and you were sitting on that mattress, with your legs huddled together like a baby’s. Your open pen and a number of blank sheets of paper were scattered all around you.

    I had to keep the tray of your breakfast there, without disturbing you, and descend the staircase

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