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Branwyn is the Goddess of love, beauty, mischief and mystery. It also relates to genuine literature.

The name has been tossed by Lavkesh Kumar Singh.

Editorial :

Reading is glamourous.

Publisher and Director Vineeta Gupta Founder and Editor-in-Chief Sneha Gupta

Managing Editor Parul Parihar Contacts:

Email : snehagupta01989@gmail.com sneha@branwyn.in

A book in hands. Specs on the nose. Eyes on the words. Mind in the characters.. And heart-beat racing with the incidents happening through the pages. Reading has a style, a class. A reader belongs to peculiar species who mark their appearance with their special characteristics. A reader can be identified by the culmination of thoughts. The deep dive in the characters. That making one with the incidents. These happenings altogether make the reader a different creature who stands out in the crowd. What else could be more stylish than reading glasses on the nose! A reader is not just a word it is a compliment! A stupendous adjective which indicates a person who is more governed by the brain. Reader simply means a child of intellect. Reader means a person full of imaginative creativity. Readers mark the existence of writers!

Reading is simply glamourous! Keep reading! - Sneha Gupta

Website : www.branwyn.in [Picture courtesy in few articles: google.com]

made it to the bestsellers list on amazon.com.

Let us know something more about this amazing writer. Ellis Shuman was born in Sioux City, Iowa, in the United States, and immigrated to Israel as a teenager. He completed high school in Jerusalem and served for three years in the Israeli army. Along with his wife, he was a founding member of Kibbutz Yahel in the Arava Valley in Israel's south. On the kibbutz he worked in agriculture, industry, tourism, the dairy barn, and served as the kibbutz's general secretary.

After moving with his wife and three young children to Moshav Neve Ilan in the Judean Hills, Ellis received formal training in the hotel industry. He worked in a variety of positions at the Neve Ilan Hotel and later was Food and Beverage Controller at the Jerusalem Hilton. As a hobby, Ellis began writing on the Internet. He wrote extensively about life in Israel in his position as the Israeli Culture Guide at About.com.

Ellis served for three years as Editor in Chief of Israel Insider, an online daily newsmagazine that developed new technologies as it posted the latest news and views, from and about Israel. Starting in 2004, Ellis began working in a marketing company servicing the online gaming industry. In the years 2009 - 2010, his job was relocated to Sofia, Bulgaria. During those years, Ellis and his wife traveled extensively in Bulgaria as well as in the countries of the region. Writing is something inevitable for Ellis. He gives his heart and soul to writing. His book VALLEY OF THRACIANS is a hilarious adventure of a retired professor. A Peace Corps volunteer has gone missing in Bulgaria and everyone assumes he is dead, everyone except his grandfather, who refuses to give up hope. Retired literature professor Simon Matthews launches a desperate search only to be lured into a bizarre quest to retrieve a stolen Thracian artifacta unique object of immense value others will stop at nothing to recover. Matthews travels through a Balkan landscape dotted with ancient tombs and fortresses, unaware that his grandson has been confined to an isolated mountain cabin, slowly recovering

In addition to writing and reading, Ellis enjoys traveling to new places. He has traveled extensively in Europe, as well as to Macau, Manila, and to many places in the United States. At home, Ellis and his wife treasure every moment that they get to share with their children and two granddaughters. He can be reached at Ellis and Jodie's Bulgarian Adventure http://shumansinbulgaria.blogspot.com/ http://ellisshuman.blogspot.com

Three Questions : Diana Nixon

Diana Nixon is the author of the famous romantic fantasy series LOVE LINES. Diana loves to dwell in her world of fantasies which propels her to write such beautiful stories which win readers hearts. In an interview with Branwyn, Diana shared her heart out. end. And I liked result. Maybe thats why now I cant imagine my life without new plots and characters that I love creating so much. I enjoy my work a lot, and I really hope that my readers will never regret time they spend with my books. You write about the love-life of fairies. Do you agree that in this mechanical age, genuine love has left humans to find solace in the fairlyland? Or love still exists in human world? - I do believe in true love. And Im sure that no mechanisms can replace what people feel. Even though someone may say that love stories created in the books are always too good to be true, I dont think so.

1.What is writing for you? A

serendipitous experience or a long-cherished desire? -Becoming a writer was a spontaneous decision. I never thought that one day I would be writing books. I had some experience in writing scientific articles in the sphere of Law, which is my original profession. But working in a fantasy genre was like a personal challenge for me. I never leave things half-done, so when I started working on my first book. I had to get to the


Authors are humans after all. We can feel, we can laugh, cry and love. And I think its impossible to write about something that you never experienced yourself. Even when we write about some supernatural things, we rely on the facts and stories told by someone else. We study records and spend hours thinking about the ways to use our knowledge in the books. Of course, good imagination is required, but love is something that you cant describe, relying only on someone elses words. You need to know what it means and how it feels to be in love. Even though everyone understands it in a different way.
3. If you are granted that one wish, which

character of your book you would love to see alive? And why? - Its a very difficult question. I love all of
them. Even the villains. Each of my characters has something that I see or would like see in me and people around me. If I gather all the features I like about them, I will be able to create a picture of a perfect person. And we all know that none of us is perfect. So if I had a chance to make a wish connected with my characters, I would wish to get inside my stories and meet all of them there. Thanks for being with us, Diana! Branwyn family wishes you all the very best.

Sizzling Sensation : Grand Launch of Authors Empire Publication

12th May 2013 has got recorded as the culmination of stupendous zeal, in the golden pages of history. Whole publishing industry witnessed the thunderous royal launch of Authors Empire Publication on the very same date. The launch has been first of its kind in the history of Indian Publishing Industry. Authros empire, as the name signifies itself launched three of its books in the VIP Lounge of Patiala Flying Club. To add more to the grace, the chief guest was none other but the Maharani of Patiala Mrs. Preneet Kaur herself who is also the Minister of State for External Affairs. Maharani was greeted by Kunal Marathe, the CEO of Authors Empire India and Shri Rajbir Gill, the former helicopter pilot of Indian Navy who retired as a commander. Three books of the company were launched in the event which include In Pursuit of the Woman written by Rajbir Gill, Chakra written by Ritu Lalit and Kashi written by a foreign author Terin Miller. Rajbir Gills book was launched by Maharani herself. She appreciated the riveting writing style of Mr. Gill and also wished her good luck in his writing career. She bestowed words of appreciation and blessings on the young entrepreneur Kunal Marathe. She said that she was happy to witness the progress of youth in innovative areas. Ritu Lalits book Chakra was launched by her son Ishaan Lalit who himself is an author. Since it was mothers day, nothing else could have been better than that. Terin Millers book Kashi was launched by Mrs. Preeti Singh. She welcomed the author in Indian Publishing industry and wished Kunal and company all the very best. She said that Kunal Marathe stands out of the crowd with his never-say-die attitude and strong will-power. She said that Kunal is on the very righteous path to bring change in the Indian publishing industry.

Kunal Marathe and Commander Rajbir Gill greeting the Maharani of Patiaala, Mrs. Preneet Kaur

The event marked a flawless success with the aid of Kunal Marathes head to toe involvement right from greeting the guests to catering. It rarely happens in any event that the CEO and the organizer of any event himself approaches each and every guest and ensures their comfort. Kunal Marathe broke the myth and thus set a new trend. It was his hospitality that every guest who attended the event praised him whole-heartedly. However, Kunal shares the credit with Mr. Rajbir Gill. In his own words Nothing would have been possible without the help of Mr. Rajbir Gill. Whole throughout the event, he stood with me like a guardian. I owe this to him. The launch was covered by Times of India, Hindustan Times and Daily Post.

Kunal Marathe and Rajbir Gill with the reporters

Kunal Marathe told Branwyn that the event has marked a stepping stone in the journey of Authors Empire India. I got a proposal of 5. crores from a corporate for Authors Empire. he smiles, But Authors Empire has a long way to go

Maharani Preneet Kaur, Mr. Rajbir Gill, Mrs. Preeti Singh, Mrs. Ritu Lalit and others addressed the crowd. Kunal Marathe, who gave the final speech won the hearts by his words "About seventeen to eighteen months ago when I started Author's Empire, all I had was a house on rent in Navi Mumbai, where I used to live and work, a Pentium 4 computer and an Internet dongle. Today, eighteen months later, when I am standing here, ladies and gentleman, the same Author's Empire has four successful brands, 48 people who work for us from all over the country, 22 authors whom we have signed and will be publishing their books in 2013 and 2014, and investors, who, on my one call, can invest up to one crores in the company for any of our expansion plans." And the last para was (when he turned a little emotional): "About four years ago, ladies and gentlemen, there was a similar launch that took place in hotel Taj of Mumbai. It was something similar. Some well-known people, Mr. Ashutosh Guwarikar to be one of them, were sitting on the stage, and some 70-80 people were in the audience. Just like we are releasing these books here, Mr. Guwarikar announced about one of his upcoming movies. Even I was there in that party. But I was neither on the stage, nor in the audience. In fact, I was standing in the corner of the conference room with a tray of glasses in my hands, as at that time, I was working as a waiter in that hotel. I had this dream. I knew one day I will be heading a party like this. One day, I will own a business like this. But I didn't expect that day to come in four years, ladies and gentlemen. I thank my mom. I thank lord Ram and Lord Hanuman for making me what I am. And I thank you all for being here with me today. Thanks a lot. Love you all." To add more colours to the event, it was attended by Alokita Sharma, Rupesh Bhatt, Harpreet Makkar, Dipali Sharma and several other literary celebrities.

Miss Mishtis Corner

How Ive always been wondering the reason behind this concept With the increase in the span of time, our happiness decreases and worries increase correspondingly. To experience the natural-chills of the ever-so-dynamic Mumbai climate, I was taking a careless evening walk, noticing all kinds of happy, content, sad and weird faces around me. Some were talking to one another with gestures, certain others were volumizing with the moving breeze, when suddenly a teenaged-girl, looking fully energetic, with her glares taken over her red colored strands, and her face glowing beautifully in the setting-sun, caught my eyes. She was standing with her not-so metro lady (looked like her mother figure) in a small list of people queuing outside the State Bank of India ATM room. Much at my accuracy she was her mother only, which I came to know from a small discussion they underwent in the mean time.

Mother (Saddened): No beta, you carry on. Ill wait over there in that corner. And, I was like, Gurrllll!!!!! Do you even have a pinch of idea what you just did? Today it was that girl, who disheartened her mother, but actually speaking, in the name of one such girl, there are too many hidden examples in us, who dont take even a thought to make their parents feel inferior to them. Always remember, they are ignorant since they invested their time in preaching you and searching you the best possible coaching outlet out there. Had they been busy and you would have been the complaining and crying at the end. In this ever-changing and challenging dynamic world, whats always constant is the love from our parents. You definitely cannot hold and keep time with you, but you can certainly capture memories and give them the happiest moments they always deserve. Life is moving and so are our demands from it. We are going to miss these small demanding pocketmonies while well be eligible for an efficient pay cheque, our always balance-and-battery low prepaid cards while switching to postpaid corporate connections, our extra cheese small pizzas whenll be sitting for official meetings over a cuppa coffee, our carefree days at college to rule-marking disciplines for our children, our small-pal cousins gatherings when well be surrounded with in-laws all around us. No doubt, youll love your post marriage life and your kids, but this is something that youll miss daily. So kiss this awesomistic pleasure before its time to miss them!

Mother (wearing a careful expression): Dear, shall I accompany you in there?

Girl (wearing an exhausted expression): No mom, whats the need? I mean I can manage withdrawing money alone naa Mother (showcasing expectations to hear a Yes): But child, I too wish to see once, how you perform the transactions with a computerized machine and how it follows your instructions so swiftly. Girl (looking here & there and replied irritatingly): Mom, please be a bit lower in conversations. What if any of the people around hear us? What will they think that you dont even know how to use an ATM machine, and when you have never learnt the same previously, why now? Please no. Else Ill leave the place and you manage the withdrawal by yourself.

Branwyn Short story

WARRING FOREVER Their eyes were talking in a language his mind was too weak to process. The abode of his intelligence was now getting jammed and thus saved itself by pressing the transfer button to the heart. The information poured in huge bulks and measured a thousand times the capacity the mind could stifle. Now, a redirection. It was like fuel to the heart that was dying of nothingness. A seed was sown in a bare ground. His mind couldnt help getting crazy of thoseEyes.
It was a war between the mind and the heart: a war of silence. His mind played with hers but his heart knew no games. He only stared while his mind took notes, scribbling in desperate scrolls, falling maniacally in love with what defeated its own purpose of living which was to think. He smiled everytime his heart tried to break out of his ribs. Now, he was smiling more often. Happiness seemed to overflow and his mind was flooded. Racing with his thumping heart, it tried to process information:

Silence was as beautiful as love. And she finally broke it, hitting the plate with the fork as she uttered: Are you out of your mind?! before she angrily strode away.
Her hips swung like the pendulum of a clock. Her skin shone like diamonds in the sun. He adored her beautiful mane that danced behind her running feet. His heart stung. Lips felt dry as the sands of the desert; a battlefield where weapons were mightier than the pen. Barren and lifeless, but the seed sustained. It was odd though, that none seemed to really win. It was funny how stories started and ended with the same word. Love, was as painful as silence.

- Monisha Vishwanath Kalamandir School of Arts, Bangalore

It was the stammering before the death of a mind.

At your helpless worldly cares! And the steady drizzle Of resentment Was lost in it A whiff of passion Suddenly Touched us simultaneously Leading us to pure deepening Whirlpools of sensation!

Now forget me Your lips uttered Amidst the roused intimacy Of our soul-enlightened discussion, I looked at you With a sudden snap Of bleeding desire, You were calm As a disused street Or like the terrifying silence After the storm Hiding the emotional anarchy beneath
The curious gulf of silence Echoing The screaming absurdity Of your request Welled/ birthed a stream Of tenderness and compassion

Dr. Subodh Kumar Jha has been a member of NCERT and UGC Workshops for the proficiency of English Language in various study streams! At present he is a prominent part of Magadh University as the Head of Department of English in S.N. Sinha College! He honoured Branwyn with his special segment titled "ALPINE AMBERGRIS". Alpine means mountain peak which denotes Subodh Jha's intellectual persona and Ambergris means a fragrant substance found at sea level. Thus, "Alpine Ambergris together denotes the association of an intellectual person like Mr. Subodh Jha and the novice writers who are just trying to make a difference!

Sacrament Sobriety : Gaurav Gill

Umbilical God
My bruised knee cried for attention, She heard it and ran in my direction. The gash was deep and tear had trails, Our courtyard was painted with her wails My measly marks decked her eyes with a smile, My rejection of her best cooked foods, never earned me her revile. My shattered relations got her fragile heart into inconsiderate shards, She quietly smiled when her affection was pinned down by my nonchalance and barbs. Her love was like canopy of mango branches, But all it could get was my temperamental avalanches I could hear rustling from within and my heart slowly utters, That I breathe for you and my world without you still stutters!

Mr. Incandescent speaks

The Poison City- First Blood
Thirty rupees. That was what the cheapest shirt cost him. Right from the footpath. The poison city had begun to bare its fangs. It had not welcomed him amicably. Like an arrogant beauty, it had bedazzled him, had promises to make and only bitterness to offer. His room was a dingy hovel. Everything that made the walls was falling off. From within it, it appeared to be a bunker made below the ground. Without a trace of air or light finding a crevice to creep in. He wondered how long he would have to stay here.

He took the bus to Lajpat Nagar. For the first interview he was ever going to face.
The poison city would not spare him the agony. It would be ruthless. It would be heartless. Its hot winds hit him on the face, amidst the crowd that reeked of odours he never though human beings were capable of emitting. He was a part of the crowd that misguided him. He told him Lajpat Nagar had arrived, and he should get off. It hadnt arrived. Someone played a dirty trick to get the seat he was occupying in the bus. He walked a fair distance before he finally found his destination. Actually, he walked more than was necessary for him. Everyone he asked told him the way, and none knew the way. He took a deep breath before knocking the door. He reassured himself. This was just a bloody call centre interview. A walk-in. Every clown got through. He had topped in English in his board exams. No one could stop him.

He counted his money again. No miracles. Seventy three rupees. Not a penny more.
The dreams were suddenly looking elusive. The money was depleting fast. The glass building he had imagined owning was suddenly looking impossible. Unreal. The only thing real was the hunger. And it had just been two days. He couldnt wait any longer, for a breakthrough idea .He would have to act. To get a job.

He washed his shirt. It was reeking of his sweat accumulated through his aimless wanderings. He knew it was a mistake the moment he dipped it in water. He had only one shirt. He would have to wear something to go and seek a job.

He was glad he had taken a deep breath before he entered the room. The two ladies that sat on the other side of the chair with fake smiles were the first smiling faces he had encountered.

He did not have sisters. He had no girls in his school. He had never talked to a girl his age for more than a minute or two. He stood no chance.

He waited for the bus that would take him to Nehru Place. He put his hand in his pocket. It had been picked. Thirty Three Rupees only. Gone. Zero Rupees. Bus ride and food remaining. He began to walk before negative thoughts came to his mind. He asked the way. They told him it very far away. Impossible to get there on foot. No one defined how far was very far, though.

He faltered.
The girls were amused. Confused. Impressed. Surprised. The man wore a shabby shirt. He faltered. He was visibly shy. He spoke in English that was classic and grammatically correct. Too correct really. Almost out of the place. And he never raised his eyes to meet theirs.

What was the last movie that you saw?

I dont watch movies.

He walked. One thing was clear. Negativity couldnt be very far. The roads were dusty. The sun was ruthless. The walk was long.
He crossed the road where he shouldnt have. After two hours of walking. He was inches close to death. It was almost a miracle no vehicle ran over him.

What? Did you not watch Kalyug?

He felt something crawling beneath his skin. His ears had turned red. He was staring at the floor, his gaze riveted. When he walked out of the door, he clearly heard the girls giggle behind him, with no intentions to hide their amusement.

The drop of perspiration that treaded past his brow, past his cheek, through his chin was a cold one.
He finally decided he would have to take a bus. And beg to the conductor, or fight him, and get to Nehru Place. He took the bus. Miraculously no one asked him for a ticket. The conductor sat with indifference on the last seat, not concerned about who had a ticket and who didnt. (He later found out the difference between the government owned DTC buses and the private ones.)

He must not lose hope. He told himself.

The Delhi sun was bent on making him lose hope though. It shone as if he knew no mercy. There was another interview. In some place called Nehru Place. There still was hope. He made a mental calculation. Seventy Three. Minus thirty. Shirt. Forty Three. Minus ten. Bus ride. Thirty Three. Food and bus ride remaining.

He got to Nehru Place. Without money. Laden with guilt of theft and fear off getting caught. He let go a sigh at the end of a journey. Relief mixed with doubt. The interviews were over before it started. He stood no chance. Anyone with a thirty rupee shirt and reeking of sweat stood no chance. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket. Another interview was going on at He had not slept that night. The pangs of hunger were more real than his dreams. He stood naked beneath the shower. Water over his body mitigated the severities of hunger and heat. It wasnt cold. It was warm. But it helped him mitigate the hunger. He could not lose. He had not come all the way to lose. Delhi. The poison city. He had come with ideas of conquest. The city was mocking in his face. He was not scared of girls. Not of the Poison city. Not his fate.

How are you Lavkesh? she asked in voice that was more melodious than any he had heard.
Well, my name is Lavkesh, and the reason why I want to join Wipro BPO is because of the unprecedented I asked how you have been doing. She was controlling her laughter. His head was rolling. Insult. Hunger. Hopelessness. Want water? She looked concerned. Rejected? Am I? We just started the interview Please, dont give me false hopes. My shirt stinks. My voice is weak. For want of food. And the first answer made you laugh. May I go now? She was quiet. You didnt have food? For two days now. Why? She was startled. No money left. Gosh! Order something. Thank you. But I dont think I came to seek charity. I came to get the job. I left my father four days ago. Promising him to be someone. On my own. Without his support. Too soon to accept charity I presume. She gave him a glance. A clean glance. What was it? Indignation? She didnt look the sort who could be angry with a miserable man. Consideration? Looked something like maternity, but for her young age that made her so different from what one could call a mother. Maybe another professional gesture he hadnt been exposed to.

He found himself in the middle of the final round of the interview in Noida that evening. They asked him if he wanted something to eat. He did. He thought about asking if that was for free. Then he politely declined.
The HR manager walked in at 8 PM, apologizing for the delay. He had visualized the most beautiful girl he could think of. The Miss Imagination was not as pretty as Savneet Shergill, who sat before him.

Honestly. Tell me. Is this your real accent? No. But that is the way you speak in call centres. Isnt it? He spoke sheepishly. Dont try and be hero henceforth. Ok? He nodded. And look at me. Listen. You are more beautiful than any I have seen. Please dont make me nervous. He imagined she was laughing. He didnt look at her. You have the computer round to go with. That I will flunk. I havent touched a modern computer in my life. But I can talk to people. I topped my school in English. That is the best school in my state. And what if I offer you the job? I said I would flunk the computer round. I asked what if I offer you the job? Then I wont make you regret the decision. She rose. He looked at her face. She smiled. And then raised her hand. Welcome to Wipro BPO. Join in two weeks. Before we discuss the salary, I would like you to eat something.
I think I would keep the job. And I would decline the charity. With thanks, of course. Thirty minutes later, he was back on the roads, hungry, tired, weak. And elated. He had a job. The poison city was watching. He felt it. He wanted to jump. Laugh. Cry. But it was watching him. A formidable opponent, watching jealously. It wouldnt let him win easily. It would come back with the poison. He didnt want to provoke it. He wasnt sure what future had in store.

But the truth was simple. He had drawn first blood.

Branwyn : That Book and Me

I too had a Love Story [ Mehek Bassi]
It was just another afternoon that I received a phone call from a distant friend, who was crying after reading this particular book, I too had a love story, by Ravinder Singh. At first I thought she is simply over-exaggerating everything, I mean, how can anyone cry after reading couple of hundred pages? I took it up as a challenge and bought it, and to my surprise, even I was left with tears at the end. The way Khushis character has been portrayed, and the way her temperament casts a spell on the readers is just mesmerizing. That book was my first read, around 4 years ago, and it put me to reading. After that, I read various different authors, and different genres, but Ravinder Singhs book was magical in its own way. I too had a love story, left such a deep impact on my heart that I not only started reading, but writing too. I thought, penning down your thoughts is better, than to share them out with someone, who may not understand you. I started with my facebook page to make my work reach out to wider audience, and soon a personal blog, and started writing short stories. The facebook page paced up at such a speed, that it encouraged me to go for a book. And soon enough, my published work: Chained, was in my hands. The credit goes to that one book, which I read years ago, but its impact was so strong that it turned me into a published author myself.

Displaying your thoughts on a piece of paper, is never an easy task. But some writers have mastered this trick, including Ravinder, who put in so much, in his first ever book. The language of the book is so easy and understandable that everyone can enjoy it without feeling an urge to pick up a dictionary at every second page. Its a pure entertainment adorned with pearls of heart and gems of soul. I salute Ravinder Singh for being courageous enough to narrate his tragic story to the world, and become a hope for the people, who lost faith in true love. Love exists, in stronger forms than anyone can imagine. If you have faith, and love, you can find that special person, who can change your life for better!

-Mehek Bassi -Ludhiana, Punjab


Kaushik Gangopadhyay
May 20, 1999, The Mehendi on Reenas hands was still fresh as she stood at the door of her father in laws house trying desperately to control her tears. Her mother in law Santra Devi was standing beside her caressing and kissing the forehead of her son Yogendra who was just 19 years old. Reena was married to Yogendra only a fortnight back on May 5, 1999 and before they could know each other, Yogendra received a telegram from his unit that his leave had been cancelled and he had to report to his unit at the earliest. When people of his age group were whiling away their time in college canteens, chasing girls and making merry, Yogendra a second generation soldier was bidding goodbye to his family to answer theCALL OF THE NATION. His father had served in the Army and his brother is still in the Army. Yes friends, I am talking of HAVALDAR (Then a Grenadier) YOGENDRA SINGH YADAV of the GHATAK commando unit who set the snow clad peaks of Kargil on fire by sheer bravery and guts. Please read what he has to say about the operation on the icy scales of Tiger Hill at a height of 16500 feet and covered with thick snow----- On the night of July 4 our Commando Team was tasked to climb up the Tiger Hill via a very tough route and capture a position held by the Pakistani soldiers. The gradient or incline whatever you may call it was almost 90 degrees. We had to climb using ropes. It was almost like climbing a wall. The only advantage was that a wall does not have a foot hold whereas we could find some footholds while climbing the rocky walls. The weather was freezing cold and there was very strong breeze. A single mistake could prove fatal. Our hands were getting numb due to cold. Par mission to pura karna hi tha Bharat Mata ki shaan bachane ki kasam jo li thi (But we had to complete the mission, we had taken oath on the name of Bharat mata). Lieutenant Balwan was leading our team of 25 commandos. Along with me there was another Yogendra Singh Yadav, my best friend, my well wisher, my inspiration. We had to talk very softly because if the Pakistanis get wind of our plans they will shoot us like sitting ducks from the vantage position they held. Every now and then my best friend would pass a comic remark and Balwan sahib would admonish him, --Yadav tum sudhroge nahi. Muh band rakh wapas chal ke sabko hasana. We climbed for nearly 12 hours. Gradually as we were approaching the peak, we broke away into small groups to surprise the Pakistanis. Overcoming great difficulty we were almost near the peak when a heavy volley of gun fire hit our team. Our men were falling like nine pins. Suddenly Yogendra was hit. He cried out in pain. I tried to pacify him but he passed away in front of my eyes. For a few minutes I lost my nerve, but then raw anger overpowered me. I decided I would take revenge for Yadav jees death. I am not going to spare these Pakistanis. A few moments later I realized I was the lone survivor from my team. I too was grievously injured. I was hit by bullets in the left arm and right leg. I was unable to walk, so I started to crawl towards the post captured by the Pakistanis. My left hand was in very bad shape. Pakistanis. My left hand was in very bad shape. Any movement was causing unbearable pain. I loosened my belt and tied the left hand to my body.

I removed my Bandana (Cloth used to cover the head) and tied it to my leg which was bleeding profusely. I tried to walk but couldnt. So I crawled towards the Pak Post. Seeing four men inside it I hurled a grenade and saw two of them getting killed and two injured. Then I started rolling my body towards the Pakistani Picket. Accidentally my AK 47 automatic assault rifle slipped out of my hand and fell in a deep crevice. I said to myself, I am badly injured and will die shortly but I have to avenge Yadav jees death and unfurl the Indian flag on the Tiger Hill. As I rolled towards the enemy picket I caught them by surprise. I snatched a rifle from them and fired as many rounds as I could. They started hiding for life.By now I had almost reached the top of the peak and could see as well as hear the four Pakis inside their bunker. As soon as they saw me they started firing at me. As the bullets hit me on the arms, legs, thigh and chest I saw my end coming soon. Meanwhile six of my colleagues from another team came to my rescue but all of them were shot dead. When the enemy saw me still moving, they started firing again. I hid myself behind a boulder and lay lifeless. They took me to be dead. Meanwhile I could hear their commander planning a counter attack on a peak we had captured earlier and had installed a Medium Machine gun post. As the Pakis left for the counter attack I took over the picket and wanted to unfurl the Tri colour but it was with Balwan Sahab. So I lay on the ground and shouted at the peak of my voice BHARAT MATA KI JAI. Suddenly I realised that if I stay here the Pakis will surprise our men and kill the 25 soldiers on guard there. I had to outsmart the enemy before death overtook me. The pain was becoming unbearable. I started rolling my body down the rocky slope. I somehow managed to reach our post. More forces were called in and our post was saved. Seeing my condition my Commanding Officer Sahab had tears in my eyes. He ordered to evacuate me to the Military Hospital. But I had decided to fight till I die. I said --Sahab, jab tak jan hai main ladunga. Marne ke bad jahan marzi bhej dijiyega--(I will fight as long as I am alive. Send me anywhere you want after my death). I carried on firing with the limited

strength I had. When I woke up, I found myself in a room. I wasfeeling excessive pain in my limbs. Later I realised I was in Military Hospital, Srinagar. My colleagues told me that I fought for 8 hours and gradually lost consciousness. I was unconscious for 72 hours. Doctor saab told me that they extracted 15 bullets and grenade shrapnel from my body. From Srinagar Military Hospital I was shifted to Base Hospital Delhi Cant. I did not want my mother to know my condition. So I called up my in laws and said that I am alive. They conveyed it to everybody. Throughout this operation, from scaling the sheer vertical cliff face by rope, for destruction of 2 Pakistani bunkers in succession, Grenadier Yadav displayed indomitable spirit, determination and action beyond the call of the duty. For his sustained display of the most conspicuous personal bravery and gallantry of the highest order in the face of the enemy, Grenadier Yogender Singh Yadav was awarded the Param Vir Chakra, India's highest medal for gallantry. Jai Hind!! Jai Jawan!! *Kaushik Gangopadhyay is an exdefense personnel presently working with State Bank of India. He honoured us by accepting our request to share his real experiences of AirForce life in Down Memory Lane section of Branwyn.

Branwyn Short story

The Wedding Ring
The wedding ring wouldnt come off. She tried her best to yank it off her ring finger again. She had been trying to take it off since the past half an hourever since shed heard the broadcast over the radio about the plane that had fallen so many feet from the sky. That plane which had carried her husband. The husband she had not seen for around one and half years, when his company transferred him abroad.

Even the questions seemed to exhaust her. She remembered the day when Alok had come home from work so excited, telling her he was going to be transferred out of the country. They had just been married some ten odd months then. She wasnt particularly fond of the idea of going abroad. It was decided he would go by himself and come back for herand he was coming back. When Fate intervened, and played its trump card. Khushi? She wished everyone would just leave her alone. So that she could get completely lost in her thoughts, in the world where she could be with her husbandin the world where Alok existed. There might be some heartbreaking news She started. Without knowing how, the wedding ring fell off her finger.

Khushi? her mother-in-laws voice sounded so distant to her ears, Do eat something, beti. Youve not eaten anything since yesterday night
Yesterday night seemed like some long forgotten memory. Someone had been tinkering with the radio, and they all heard the news. If Khushi hadnt been in such a shocked state herself, she wouldve wondered why her mother-in-law could cope with the tragedy of losing her only son. Or had she still not given up hope, like Khushi had done a few minutes back, when she had tried to take off her wedding ring?

- Aniesha Brahma
[Aniesha Brahma is the author of The Secret Proposal. She is about to complete her Masters in Comparative Literature from Jadavpur Univeristy. She'd pursued bachelors in the same before, and was schooled in Dolna Day School. She loves writing, reading and listening to music, and honestly believes in the philosophy that you should never give up on the one thing you cannot go a day without thinking about. She can be contacted at: aniesha.brahma@gmail.com]

Mr. Attitude says

Schizophrenia: an acute mental disorder
Writers! Who are they? What do they do? How and Why? This series of questions was once asked to me on my trip to Mangalore last year. Of course, I had no answers. I just looked at the girl and smiled. She smiled back at me. They write- That was all I could say.
Jim Morrison once said: Moment of inner freedom When the soul is set free and left to wander endlessly I closed my eyes and started inspiring myself. Many voices echoed through my mind- Mother, father, uncles, friends, foes, animals, gays, streams, storms, screams and Om, yes Om,the sound that the Universe echoes with. The supporting faces ran before my eyes. Some were strangers. They wanted to tell me their stories. I opened my eyes. The girl in front of me asked, 'how do they write on everything ever created in the real world or not?' Mind me answering!! The writers are strange people. They appear to be aware of whatever is going around. They are the most knowledegable breed of human beings, unless a scientist also becomes a writer, sometime, in any case. From Chaucer to Rowling and from Ved Vyas to Mahadevi Verma, the writers have confessed that they met some person who inspired them to write their stories. Ved Vyas clearly mentions that he was the grandfather of all the Pandavas and the Kauravas. How many takers for this? Do they really existed? Was there ever a war called The Mahabharata? Well, we do know that Ved Vyas existed. Chetan Bhagat confesses to have met some godly messenger in his second book 'One Night at the Call Centre.' Yann Martel claims to have met Pi Patel in his Man Booker Prizer winner book 'Life of Pi'.

There have been so many examples, if you read the prologoue and the preface of a story. You may also read between the lines, if you are a reader. And if you still cannot guess the reason, then, you are not a writer. Yes, writers are schizophrenics. No no, don't sue me for commenting on their mental condition. Just notice the literal implication of the word. I am sure I can see your faces while writing this, err... acute mental condition. Ramdhari Singh Dinkar once said Jahaan na pahuche ravi wahaan pahuche kavi (there where sun can't reach, you will find a poet) To tell you something about the strange medical term, Schizophrenics see new places and people who do not exist. They talk to them, feel them and in many cases, eat and drink with them. These people are more involving than the ones in the real world. They have so much to tell, to express. They are the true friends who do not expect anything. Selfless, they are. They love and sacrifice. They hate and inspire. They cry, yell, take and give. They are so much our own; Godsend, they are. Oh, control me; Am I losing it? Well, let me come back. To the real world. To the place where I think I meet you, with a thin demarcating line, between what's real and what's not! To the place where that girl still asks me a question. What are you asking for, girl? 'What do you do?' I WRITE 'Are you schizophrenic?' I smiled and... she dissolved before my eyes in thin air as if she never belonged to the real world.

Branwyn Bookshelf
My promisesare meant to be forever - Why Did I Fall in Love-2 A Novel by Er.Vinod Pardhi
Blessed are the ones who prosper there life in garden of parents of own. This is story of eternal love and valuable relations coming up in the form of different colours. Author pens down this creation for the promise given to the narrator, whom he meets up as a consequence of an electronic correspondence. Nirbhay, the protagonist, meets up Aditi on first day to the college, whereupon he falls prey to the arrow of love at first sight. The much awaited melodious journey of engineering college begins with gaining good friend in Nikhil, whom Nirbhay treats as his brother. Initial shocks are always non acceptable for any, similarly it was very tough for Aditi to meet up with Nirbhay in romantic song so easily. Nirbhay manages well to get away with initial complexities of a technical college, i.e. ragging but not for long, it occurred bringing so many necessary changes in his thought and understanding. Indeed it proved to be a tonic for taunting reality of life. Little incidences of around had started bringing Nirbhay closer to Aditi, while college pacing up at a great flow. The dedication of Nirbhay had already started paying off well as he came being rated among toppers of the batch. Aditi was deeply impressed by his subtle nature and attitude. In meanwhile Nikhils heart is taken by Sonali, again the batch-mate but from different department. There relation too starts flowing streamlined without any obstacles ahead. At a juncture
Aditi decides to keep away from Nirbhay, when she gets to know his intentional depth about relation, she wishes to stay as just friends, but it was never acceptable for Nirbhay. They keep distance for sometimes post to a short quarrel in regard. But soon they realized, might be they are really made for each other and cant face the separation for long and that was the start of there seemed to be never ending love journey. But Saturn had been watching Nirbhay very closely since his birth, the lethal eyes of him made Nirbhay an Orphan ever since his eyes opened full, but that was not the end, more was to come by. Suddenly a new guy comes into picture playing the cast of evil; Ankush also has an eye on Aditi since Nirbhay met her. He proposes her as well to bring varying crust in love birds life. The innocent brutality never thinks before getting into act as young blood always befalls in temperate zone. Nirbhay gets into a bash with Akrush, trying to prove his worth as divine lover but ends up with nothing but few broken pieces. This incidence had further added the fire of revenge through the nerves of Nirbhay, he was decided with assault someday before getting a farewell from the college. The day soon came, he was all planned to break Ankush into pieces but Aditi had but surprisingly Aditi took the charge, beating him brutally. The graduation college life was over and gone, the new ventures

begun very soon. Nikhil, Aditi and Nirbhay got admitted to a reputed business school in Nagpur. Nagpur was hometown for Aditi, she used to stay at her home while Nikhil and Nirbhay continued being room partners of hostel. Sonali had taken up admission for post graduation in engineering in a reputed college, as her dream was in delivering lecture and taking up academics as profession. Meanwhile Nirbhay was dreaming at a brisk pace to get married with Aditi, and get a settled life done. It was almost three months due for the course to get over, when suddenly news arrives for Aditi having left to USA for higher studies. This came as a deadly bouncer of lifes innings, as this happened without any prior notice and information. Nirbhay tried his best to know about the happenings but no traces where found. Nirbhay meets Aditis dad to know the underlying reasons, but even he didnt clarify saying, Aditi has taken a promise, if I inform this to anyone, she will suicide. Nirbhay had realized there is no way he and Aditi be one ever. The pain of separation felt high on him, he started boozing and smoking heavily. He was badly nailed in himself. Somehow, he had found a good placement along with Nikhil. The professional tinge was just added, life had again found a missing pace. Nirbhay gradually was getting cut off from all relations and connections. He was now not in contact with Nikhil as well, to him relation had lost all the meanings and colours, irrespective of being love, friendship and brotherhood. Three years passed by at a great speed. Nirbhay again gets in touch with Nikhil and Sonali, they both are happily married. The long awaited meeting brings wings of happiness in his life. Sonali informs Nirbhay about Aditi being in India. After a span of long duration he meets his beloved, both of them have expected other to be married. Aditis hallucination was broken by Sonali when Aditi informed her about her view towards

marrying Akrush. She had planned to marry Akrush after he proposed her when she was staying in USA, then she had informed him about the disease of blood cancer she is suffering from and does not have much life. Akrush had accepted her that way, he wanted to live with her maximum he could. When asked by Sonali, that why not so with Nirbhay then, who has left all things around in her remembrance and has decided to stay single throughout his life? Then Aditi had told, it was only for a reason that, she never wanted to keep Nirbhay all alone but now knowing his condition she wants to marry him. When they both met, Nirbhay came to know about her disease and said, he is always ready to have her in life for whatever moment he can have. Gradually Nirbhay and Aditi meet, credit was solely to Akrush, who understood the emotions of Aditi and helped her meet Nirbhay after three long years by getting into correspondence with Sonali and Nikhil. The unknown person starts crying once finishing up with the story. By then, Author breaches the promise further asking about his identity and end of story. The unknown person agrees to tell him all, but first he wants Author to meet with his kid and wife. When his wife and kid appears, he again starts crying and writes down the remaining things on tissue paper. He discloses himself to be Akrush, while the kid being none other than Arjun son of Aditi and Nirbhay. He further tells, Aditi and Nirbhay died sometimes ago in a road accident and as he never wanted Arjun to face the brutality what Nirbhay faced so he made a decision with his wife Aarti to keep him as their own kid. Indeed it was not a good end, but full of some good consequence post promises and lots of good messages.

Born on 21st March 1983 at Nagpur, Vinod Pardhi spent his College life at Wardha. He worked with Wipro InfoTech Pune, and then moved to home town Nagpur and now working with one of the topmost IT Company in Nagpur as Linux Engineer. Now living at Nagpur and pursuing MBA from IBSM distance learning Vinod is interested in Romantic nonfiction stories, trying to write each and every story related to some real stories. Maximum incidences used in first Novel where real and same with the second novel too. Apart from working in IT and writing, author spends time in listening music, painting kids paintings and reading Indian authors. Why did I fall in Love was his debut novel.

Prior to its release Why Did I Fall in Love-2 has gained much attention and words of appreciation for the authors genuine efforts are echoing in the readers destinations. However, Vinod has chosen to stay silent till the reviews of the book start flowing. But Aman Sharma, director of TRIUMPH PUBLISHING says that Vinod is one of the most consistent and dedicated writers he has ever worked with. The first look of the book has itself made it a favourite of readers. Let the time unfold the cards. says Vinod.

Mr. YouKnowMe
Authorized Arrogance
There are times when we know what we want to do, and how to do, but at times we feel lost. We sit clueless for hours, trying to figure out what we actually want from life. When we fail to achieve it, we are either start feeling lost and depressed, or we start to reforming our priorities and put more effort with more determination. So it's all a matter of effort, right? I dont think so. To achieve something first you need a goal, a set and clear goal and sub-goals to make your way easy. If you dont know the destination, you wont be able to plan what to keep on the journey with you. Achievement is earned by opting for a perfect combination of Effort, Attitude, Knowledge and Determination. You can eventually make a strategy at your ease, because life is not that static to give you a simple path. There will be points when you will lose direction, or think of giving up, even people around you will discourage you. But that shouldnt distract you from your primary focus on achieving your goal. This effort is connected closely with your self-esteem and self-confidence. And this is the only way you will feel better about yourself. So why you should focus on petty issues, or futile arguments, right? Now, what happens when you achieve your goal? You had been on one hell of a roller coaster ride to reach here. And it was everything you wanted. You are flying with confidence, happiness is overflowing from every inch of your mind, body and soul. Is it all? Is it The End? What next?? The big question, What Next. It will haunt you in the nights. You will start feeling insecure about maintaining the place you earned. You will either sink deep into the layers of your self defense mechanism or will start to imitate brevity. Against all odds you achieved something that mattered most once, is now eating you away. But thats what you wanted, right? Something mustve gone wrong in the middle. Something. Can we find it out? Maybe a reverse-search or something? Anything? Well, yes. Something went terribly wrong, you achieved your goal, so nothing is wrong here. Things changed when you achieved it. So the problem started when it all ended. Your achievement was your world, so you forgot the real world around you. And forgot a simple little fact that there are people for whom your primary goal is just a sub-goal, or is not even in their priorities of life. They are constantly moving forward to achieve more and more. Their hunger is refusing to die, and their goals are getting higher and higher. While you, you my lost buddy, is feeling the world is smaller than the 100rs globe you see on stationary shop. Till you have life, you have to keep moving forward. No matter how many obstacles you will face, how many failures you will bear, how many successes you will enjoy; you have to, have to keep moving forwards. Once you stop moving further, consider it end of your life. Believe in yourself, and be humble. Achievement doesnt mean Authorized Arrogance, remember that. Have a good life.

Fragrance of Heena
Colors of happiness Colors of oneness Waiting to be yours The one you simply adore Carrot orange to Spanish orange Slight tinge of maroon Tamarind brown hues To pitch dark brown and black Are waiting to weave their magic Decorating their elegant design Which never fail to outshine Has always been maverick Is it henna on your hands? Or your hands on henna Changing its traces of shades

Budding and gleaming Your soul alongside blooming Signaling the onset of occasions Bringing glee and prosperity Waiting to be a part of brides beauty Beautifying her silky soft hands Decorating her delicate feet Witnessing a new life with greet Glinting her with all new strands Be it simple or complex Darken or lighten shade Similar or uniquely designed It never fails to amaze us Each dash of sparkling henna Indicates the brides blush Brides shyness reflecting Hennas magical bloom

* Heena Ahuja is a girl who loves to scribble the rhythmic melody of literature. She lives in Mumbai.

Amateur Scribbles
Me and My Monekys
I tucked my white shirt in my trousers and opened the door cautiously. I was a bit nervous as this was my first day in the new branch. Rajeev Mehra, the manager gave me a smile and asked to come in. My confidence level rose. As I turned to shut the door behind, suddenly the boss shouted, You, you, let out of here. I was baffled at this sudden change in behavior. I thought what wrong I had done that the boss suddenly became so much angry and changed his tone. Worried, I froze there. Just then the boss lowered his voice and became quite modest, No, no, Ajay, not you. You, please come in. Now he pointed his finger towards the glass pane above the door to explain what the case was. It was a monkey. I had a sigh of relief. Oh sir, I was afraid. I would have died of heart attack. The boss chuckled, Haha. This monkey keeps jumping here and there in our branch. Sometimes, he spoils our food. Sometimes he becomes a reason behind the smile of the customers in our branch just because of his funny acts. I looked at the monkey. He was a young one and had reddish fur on his loins and on the rump. A monkey that is found all over India. My knowledge about animals reminded me of the scientific name of his breed- Rhesus Macaque. The mischievous animal was quiet and peeping curiously through

the glass pane. Restless as ever, he was chewing something. The boss looked for his bell and pressed the button meant for calling Kallu, the peon. The bell shrieked. In seconds, there appeared Kallu, out of nowhere. The teen boy spoke, Ji, saab. Voice had the perfect balance with his lean body. Go and get two cups of coffee. And look at the rascal there. Kallu looked at the pane and went out growling something. Outside the room, he made a special sound. The monkey got angry with this. I came out to see the tussle. Kallu raised his pitch this time, Hurr! Run away from here. At this, the mischievous monkey made his own sound. This went for some time. Two mammals were vying fiercely. A hilarious scene was being created. Kallu went to the balcony and came back with a stick. He pointed the stick towards the monkey to frighten him. In response, the monkey took his coconut and aimed at Kallus head. Bang on the target! Kallu fell down and the monkey ran away. I burst into laughter. Minutes later, I was sipping coffee. I gave a brief introduction, Ajay Chaudhary from Lucknow, Sir. This is my second branch. I have worked as a clerk in a branch in my home district. Mr. Mehra finished his cup and placed it on the large table. Welcome to Jagdalpur, Ajay. He brought home to me the work conditions in that area and the challenges I had to face, viz. lack of staff. There were only two clerks including me. I had to look after cash payments. I was taken to my seat by Kallu later. Two days rolled by merrily. It was Friday afternoon, lunch time. I was unmarried at that time and lunch was a menace. I put my hand in my bag to take bananas out but didnt find them there. I asked Kallu if he had taken them out. He told me that he hadnt. I was sure I had brought 3 bananas with me. Where did they go? Shocked, I decided to go out and eat

something. As I was about to leave the big hall, banana peels fell from above in front of my eyes. It took me no time to know what had happened. My face turned red with anger. I looked up and found him sitting and enjoying my hard earned bananas there. I felt like kicking him in his face. But I had witnessed Kallus example just a couple of days before. I came over my anger. In a matter of one month, I had learnt to keep my lunch and belongings safe after having a few more bitter experiences. All had tried their best but the monkey was too stubborn to leave the place and settle down somewhere else. I had been promoted to the post of Cash Officer on temporary basis as the other clerk had been transferred to some other branch and he was replaced by a new recruitee. Being a Cash Officer means higher responsibility with little monetary benefits. I had to look after the whole cash maintenance along with my routine cash payment. In the evening, I had to tally cash payments and receipts and close the cash online. One evening, I was unable to tally total cash. It was a difference of a sum of rupees ten thousand. The sun had set. The Branch Manager had left. There were two creatures in the branch premises- Rajeev, the new recruitee, and I. We had locked the branch from inside and turned every stone to find where actually the sum had gone, but all in vain. I said, Rajeev, have you thoroughly checked the reports? There should be no laxity. He replied, Sir, I have done this practice twice. I am afraid I may have to make up the loss from my own pocket. Worry and fear were visible on our faces. The amount was a big one. There was no clue as to who had to suffer the loss. We had checked all the reports, receipt vouchers and payment vouchers. I hit the table with my fist, Who has taken away the sum? We had gone through all the reports of the day

generated in the online reporting system of the bank. We were all drenched; thanks to the hot weather and the labor we had done that day. Just then I heard some noise on the glass window above the entrance to the hall. He was trying to open the window. Irritating sounds added fuel to the fire. He kept on hitting the window. The noise was reverberating. I lost my temper. I turned into a wild animal. I came out running, looked for something to hit and found a paperweight lying on a table. In the fit of anger, I hurled the paperweight in the direction of the monkey. The weapon hit on the target. It hit the glass. All this took a moment. Anger had made me blind. Soon, I realized what I had done. I saw a very young monkey fall from the window on an erect filing wire placed on a table used for filling up vouchers by the customers. The iron wire had pierced the right front leg of the monkey. He bled profusely. I exclaimed with grief, Oh God! What have I done! On the opposite side of the entrance, I heard a noise. Something fell down. Or someone fell down. But what? And where was the older monkey? And what was this young monkey doing? Rajeev came almost running. Oh shit! His mouth was left wide open. I ran to the room where we were tallying cash, picked up the key and ran back to the entrance. I opened the door hurriedly and saw the older monkey lying on the floor. His right eye had been hit by the paperweight and some thin pieces of glass had pricked in his eye. I had hit two poor creatures. My voice was mixed with grief now and throat felt choked. Run, Rajeev. Bring the first aid box. I gave first aid to the two poor creatures and called the veterinarian. Surprisingly, harmful looking monkeys didnt harm us at all. Or I should say they were not in a position to do anything. I had given them so much pain. The veterinarian checked them. The older one has lost his eye. He announced. And I cant say anything about the young one. If his leg does not improve in two days or it becomes infected or anything, we may have to cut it also. His

words fell on my ears like time-bombs set at a time of two days. I became restless. I asked Rajeev to leave for home and I paid rupees ten thousand from my pocket and closed the cash. I was not as unhappy about the monetary loss that I had to bear as I was about the heinous act I had done. That night I stayed in the branch, fed the monkeys, took care of them and never slept. The night was a restless one. Sorrow had seized me. I prayed to the Almighty to heal their wounds and make them healthy. I didnt ask for forgiveness. I didnt deserve it. The poor monkeys are harmless. They need food and shelter only. What I had given them was cruelty. Yes, I am not a human being. I am a wild animal. I had to atone for the sin. I took a vow to look after the two, not by the time they recuperate, but forever. And the vow was an easy one to be taken but a difficult one to be kept. From the very next day, I started to act upon my vow. First, I convinced my Branch Manager. I created a place for the monkeys in the branch. Every day, I fed bananas and other edible items to them. Treatment was going on. In the beginning, they were afraid of me. But they realized that I was friendly for them and so did they become for me. It eased my work a lot. Though the two lived happily there, the older monkey had lost his eye and the younger one lost his leg later on. But they had recuperated. Now they lived in the branch full time. There was no one stopping them. None was afraid of them. Nor did they have any feeling of retaliation. I was partly happy. A month later, I got married and rented a house. The two monkeys would often accompany me to my house but they had to stay out. I had narrated the whole incident to my wife. She loved animals. However, her love was confined to common pet animals like cats and dogs only. I didnt love animals. I was doing all this for the sake of the vow, for atonement. A monkey was never welcome in my house. The two had become so fond of me that they wanted

to leave neither the branch nor me. I also christened them- the older one got the name Tango and the younger one became Charlie. Slowly, I turned into an animal lover. I started going to the park every evening and feeding pigeons and other birds. There I met Suresh, a young man who used to do this practice regularly. We became friends and he told me that he was in need of employment of any kind. Some pandit had asked him to feed birds daily and told him that this would bring luck to him and he would get a job soon. He told me that he had turned into an animal lover gradually but no luck had showered on him. I asked him to be patient and try harder. I didnt ask him to stop the good practice of feeding birds. We met for months but when I changed my residence, I had to lose my contact with him. Time flew on its wings. Tango turned old and passed away. Charlie was left alone. I had been promoted and had to be transferred within a month. One day, an incident happened. Charlie was sitting on the ceiling fan just above the cash counter handled by Rajeev. Rajeev was not on his counter. My seat was just behind his seat. I was busy doing my work. Suddenly, Charlie pounced upon a customer and made some noise to draw my attention. I went there and saw him struggling with the customer to snatch his bag. Charlie had never harmed any customer. Why was he doing so? He succeeded in snatching the polythene bag and he tore it away easily. Two packets worth rupees 20000 came out. The story was clear. The man had stolen the money. I called the police and handed him over. In the custody, he confessed to have stolen the ten thousand rupees that were missing on the day of the cruel act I had done with Tango and Charlie. The police recovered the amount from him. I was happy. I leant if you do good, so shall you get. Charlie had become special for me. I was worried what would

happen to him when I would be transferred. One day he came with a young monkey kid. I welcomed this and named the new member as Rencho. Rencho was as dear to me as were Charlie and late Tango. He received the same treatment from me. By this time, I had realized that my atonement was over but I could not leave them. Of course,, Charlie had lost his leg because of me and I had become fond of them. Kallu had been selected for a good job in state government. His post was vacant. Our branch gave an advertisement in the local newspaper for filling up the post and received hundreds of applications. On my special request, the advertisement had a unique eligibility conditionThe person should be a lover of animals. One week was left in my relieving from Jagdalpur branch. I was not sure of what would happen to Charlie and Rencho after my transfer as I could not even keep them in my house with me. My wife opposed this. I took the pain of interviewing all the candidates who had applied for the post. All claimed their love for animals but none seemed convincing. I was worried. I looked at the glass pane and found Charlie and Rencho looking at me. They were quiet. They seemed curious to know what was stored in future for them. I could not hold up filling the post for more than two days as the work in the branch suffered for want of a peon. But I was desperate. I didnt want to lose. I wanted to keep the good work going, at least as much as I could. But how? How could I find a person who was an animal lover and who could serve as a peon? I thought and thought. I again ran through list containing the names of the candidates who had submitted their resume for the vacant post. Sarla, Manoj, Vikas, Sanjay, Rosy, Suresh, Vijay,.. the list was long. But hold on! Suresh! I had known someone named Suresh. Yes, Suresh. How did I forget Suresh? The person was fit for the post as per my requirements but I had an idea that this Suresh was not the one I knew. I went to the cupboard and took out his resume. No. He was not the person I met in the park. But surely, there was a ray of hope now. I looked at Charlie and

Rencho. I smiled. I was happy that there could be someone to keep the good work going. I prayed to the Almighty that Suresh must be unemployed by that time. I was sure I would convince him as he was not much educated and his education could not give him a better job. I left my seat, rushed to my car and turned the wheels towards the old park where I met Suresh. If you do something good, you are destined to receive good. As the proverb goes- As you sow, so shall you reap. But the good work should not stop here. It must go on. The baton must be carried forward, by you and then by your successors.

- Anuj Dhiman New Delhi


Hard things use to surface, On its own, And vanish with our endeavor. To oblivious fame, Leaving behind a history, And moments to tame In pages of elaborate refrains, Not to repeat in retaliation With remorseful disdain: We care to share In our quest- unparalleled and rare To set in a human race

That knows to face All odds and adversaries In its catastrophic mood: Ultimately the ingenious Nature Has all the potentials hidden To moot New ideas to combat The menace of extremism & all And toot: The invincibility of the Nature Tends to incarnate & manifest Itself as a Savior In trying times, Getting to root It dispels the gloom Bringing back the radiance And exaltation In youths and the old alike, Nemesis succumbs To the blow of time, Humanity wins To put an end to gory tale Being attempted to write By radicals, fundamentalists And the so called the religious bigots: If a religion preaches hatred And causes sufferings & persecutions To all but few, Let it be deplored Let it be ignored And let it not be followed.............

When I Turned Sherlock Holmes

We all have some crazy habits of imitating our favourite cartoon or novel character. Some of us do such things for enjoyment, but some, like me, start behaving as the persons they admire in real life and ultimately find themselves landing in trouble.. check out what happened when I did the same Mumma, where is my Italian face pack? her scream filled the house that sleepy afternoon. My sister inspected the open pores of her face for the next ten minutes. A sudden squalm surrounded me. Has she decided to apply for a beauty pageant? I consoled myself and immersed myself back into the novel. But her behavior that day unsettled the devil in me. I knew shed never do that. My sis was a simple, carefree girl, far from anything to do with beauty and grooming. Little did I know that she had a crush on someone. I had a firm belief that she would not end up earning a committed status as her elder sister hadnt got one yet. I got envious and rushed towards the refrigerator, grabbed the ice pack and placed it on my burning head. I usually use it for my face, but at that moment, I needed to cool down my brain for drafting out a plan to find my sisters relationship status/. I transformed myself in to Sherlock Holmes to burst the bubble.

-Ashok Jain, Allahabad

On day one, I combed through her belongings, almost everything she owned. I searched every inch of her bag to find something suspicious. I noticed wrappers of chocolates in it.

Oh! The precious skins that wrapped remains of dead cocoa seeds..

Cinderella, another story character one more character and one more milestone for my obsession.. BY- PRAJAKTA MULEY.

Next day, I got my hands on her cell phone and spied through the inbox messages. To my surprise, I found an endless list of over expressive couplets. Still not satisfied, I peeped into her Facebook profile and found a guy stuck to her in every pic. YESSS!! I was right. My sister wasnt single. And she had been hiding it from all of us- over cautious parents, our elder brother and me.. That night, I picked an incoming call on her cell phone. Hi honey! , a very husky voice spoke on the other side. I wondered what on earth made this guy refer to my ill behaved sis as Honey? Then, disgusted by the way of he spoke, I disconnected the call at once. Amazed by this episode, I decided to do a jaagran and find out anything that further reinforces my suspicion. But to my horror, I had to bear her snores. Next morning I found her staring at the wall and smiling.. exactly the way bollywood heroines do.. this sign gave me fair idea of the real situation. She appeared enthralled and excited whereas I was succumbing under exhaustion. Finally, I was terribly annoyed to accept the fact that my lil sis had done what I hadnt done. Still the positive side was that the investigation prodded me to become a detective, the SHERLOCK HOLMES, temporarily. Though I got my first case solved, I was not too happy for the sole reason of being single.. somehow, I could not bear that I was still single and decided to get a boyfriend.. err,, sorry.. Prince Charming. Another chance for getting into the shoes, sorry again, glass shoes of

Guest Article : Rachit Bhushan

TALENT is something that is now rarely found in college, because people now run after numbers rather than knowledge. Talent can never be brought, It can never be taught, Nobody can learn it, Nobody can govern it. Its from life that you earn it by money and guidance people from hardwork just stay away but talented people just create their way. Everybody in life has to face situations new, Difficulties are numerous and never few but if there is talent inside the best person to solve the problems is always you. One can just guide you. But it cant create interest inside mind you. Talent is something that amongst crowd it finds you. It gives you courage to live. It encourages to forgive, it ignites your desire like fire. It gives you a goal to fulfill your desire. It infuses with passion and heat. It makes you the one whom nobody can beat. Talent is like an opportunity-taste it never waste it. If you were unknown. your skills turn the world into your own. TEACHING is something about learning. Slowly with time about life you go on earning it. It has a guide. But range in it is very wide, People around are always wise. Even small small mistakes are all are ready to advice. If you are on top you get a hug, if you dont rise grave around you are dug. Every moment people expect. If you are successful people respect, you be a talented businessman or be a plumber, the criteria to be successful here is just number. Teaching is now a source to earn, In which talent with opportunities these days do get burn. Teaching is no more now a passion, its just to be in limelight mixed with popularity and fashion. It is rather now someones need that slowly is getting extinct due to the rising greed. From history to historical dates, from future to our fates, nothing now is independent, Everything now on power and money is dependent.

Branwyn Announcements
Branwyn will be publishing short stories. Short story writers are invited to submit their stories. Every published story will win a cash prize of INR 500/-. Following is the guideline for submission: 1. The story should be original and should not violate any copyright issue. 2. Stories should not contain any vulgar content. 3. There will a time-span of 6 months between considering entries from the same writer. 4. Any writer found violating the copyright issue or indulged in plagiarism will be banned from Branwyn forever and he/she will be condemned publicly in Branwyns coming issues. 5. Stories should be precise not exceeding 300 words. 6. Branwyn holds the sole right of accepting or rejecting the stories and also the time-to time changes in the T&C. No clarification will be made from Branwyns part in this regard. Writers are requested to send their stories in a word file with their small pictures, name, location and company/college name. They are requested to copy the following declaration in the email : I,..[name]., s/o / d/o / w/o ..[guardians name], hereby declare that, a) The story titled [title of your story].., which I am submitting in monthly magazine Branwyn has been written by me and it is my original piece of work. b) It does not violate any copyright issue and is free from plagiarism. c) It is a fictional work of creative imagination and I, by no means intend to hurt anybodys personal emotions. d) If my work is found violating any copyright issue, then I am solely responsible for it and not Branwyn. Send your entries to sneha@branwyn.in authors out there Send your entries to sneha@branwyn.in or snehagupta01989@gmail.com with your write-up not exceeding 400 words, your name, location and small picture. Only the entries about Indian books will be considered.

If you love reading and writing, then Branwyn would love to publish your work in AMATEUR SCRIBBLES. Send your fiction, non-fiction articles to sneha@branwyn.in Or snehagupta01989@gmail.com We, the Branwyn Family eagerly wait for your response. Do not forget to give us your feedback.

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