IF DREAMS WERE REAL..

If dreams were real and stars could speak,

I’d chase the echoes, soft and sleek.

I'd walk on clouds, embrace the night,

Dance with the moon in silver light.

If dreams were real, I'd paint the skies,

With whispered hopes and firefly eyes.

Mountains would move at my command,

Oceans would rise to kiss the sand.

If dreams were real, no tears would fall,

Lost voices would answer to every call.

Love would bloom in an endless hue,

And hearts would never break in two.

But dreams are fleeting, shadows bright,

They fade like mist in morning light.

Yet in my soul, they still ignite,

A world unseen, but burning white.

For dreams may vanish, slip, and stray,

Yet deep within, they light the way.

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The Market's Unintended Hearth

The sun rose over Balangir, but it brought no warmth. The winter air, already heavy with the December chill, was now thick with the bitter, coppery smell of yesterday’s ruin. The fruit market, once a vibrant riot of color, argument, and sweetness where mangoes were bartered and guavas stacked high was gone. All that remained was a landscape of charred wood, buckled tin, and sodden ash. It was a monument to loss, wrapped in the cold, sorrowful mist of the morning. Humans came and went wringing their hands, arguing with officials, mourning their livelihood. For them, the fire was the end of prosperity. But for the animals of the street, the destruction was, paradoxically, a kind of beginning. Motii, the street dog, moved cautiously across the black, slippery ground. She was thin and weary, but her focus was absolute. She had a litter of four blind, tumbling puppies who had spent the night shivering beneath a defunct vegetable cart near the railway tracks. They needed three things: shelte...

Between Goodbye and Moving On

The room didn’t say goodbye. It just stood there… quietly watching. The walls that once echoed with laughter now held their breath. The curtains didn’t move. The fan kept spinning, but even that sound felt distant..like it no longer belonged to me. I stood at the door, keys in my hand, staring at a space that was once my world in Bhubaneswar. A place where I wasn’t just studying..I was living. Growing. Becoming someone new. And I wasn’t alone. My sister was there. Not just as family, but as comfort. As home. Late-night talks, shared meals, silent understanding… everything that made a strange city feel like it chose me. And now, she had flown away to a different country, chasing her dreams. And I… I was packing mine into boxes. Packing is a strange kind of pain. You don’t realize how attached you are to things until you have to put them away. Every book I picked up carried a memory. Every corner I cleaned whispered something I wasn’t ready to hear. That small crack near the window? I re...

Silence Is Not Weakness

Today evening, I went to Maa Samlei Mandir in Balangir to witness the Navratri celebrations. The temple was glowing with lights, the air filled with the chants of “Jai Maa Samlei, Jai Maa Durga”, and hundreds of devotees stood in long queues with folded hands, waiting for their turn to bow before the goddess. The idol looked majestic. Her eyes fierce, posture divine, radiating power. But just outside the temple, I saw something that shook me more than anything else today. A group of men leaned casually near the entrance. Each time a woman or group of girls walked by, their eyes followed shamelessly. Some smirked, some whispered, and a few threw words that were too filthy to repeat. I saw one young woman, dressed in a simple salwar, clutch her dupatta tightly and hurry past, her face turning pale with discomfort. The men laughed louder at her silence, as if her unease was their triumph. Another girl, with her father (maybe a student returning from tuition), froze for a moment, star...

TAILIAN'S DIARY :)

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