"Canvas of Destiny"
In the royal kingdom of Rajasthan, "Canvas of Destiny" unfolds a tale of two lives intertwined by fate and secrets.
Meera, an artistic soul with a deep love for painting and literature, battles the shadows of her past while harbo...
It's hard to put it into words How the holidays will always hurt I watch the fathers with their little girls And wonder what I did to deserve this How could you hurt a little kid? I can't forget, I can't forgive you 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me
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I continued my pending work at the studio called Divya, as it was my daily ritual. "Hello," I said.
"Yes, sweetheart, did you tell your mum about college?" she asked curiously.
"Nope, not yet. Let's see the situation at home first; you know how it is," I replied with a frown.
"Oohh yeah, sorry about that," she said sadly.
"No need to apologize, Divya. It's his fault that Mum and I are in this situation. If not for Mum, I would have left a long time ago, but no one can help it," I said.
"It's okay, babe. Just be as brave as you already are," she said confidently.
"Yeah, enough about me. Tell me about your day," I said, leaving my thoughts behind.
"Sure, it's been good. I'm just so excited that you're going to be here with me in the same college," she said enthusiastically. Divya studied English literature in the same college despite being handicapped, never seeing it as a weakness, and she was the strongest person and an inspiration to me.
"Hey, now I remember. The editor called for you earlier about your new book, practically begging for your appearance on their website. What do you say? Maybe it's time to reveal yourself. After all, my friend is famous," she said proudly.
"You know how I feel about that, but it doesn't matter. People like my book, and that's enough for me."
"You say this every time, girl. Fine, I'll tell him no," she said with a scoff. "And for my next book, tell him I'm working on it, but it will take time. I'm stuck, actually," I added in a dull voice.
"Okay, then. Now I have to go; something came up. Bye, love you."
"Yeah, okay, bye, drama queen. Love you too," I said with a little laugh and returned to work. I was also a writer under a pen name 'Asha A.' As my mum's name after all she was the reason I like books, and only my Mum and Divya knew my true identity. Divya helped me send drafts because I felt uneasy about people finding out about my abusive father. I couldn't face them, the criticism, or the sympathy and fake tears. I had successfully written six books - three novels and three chapbooks of poems. I was good at it.
After finishing my work, , around 6 PM. I packed my bags and made my way home, enjoying the serene night view of the city. The bustling streets were adorned with a symphony of colorful lights, from neon signs to the soft glow of heritage buildings. The aroma of street food tempted my senses with local delicacies like chaat, kebabs, and parathas.
