Fun, Fasting, and Prasad: A Maha Shivratri Tale It was Maha Shivratri, and we three best friends—me, Shailesh, and Ujjwal—decided to visit Someshwar Mandir. The mandir was packed with a massive crowd, as everyone wanted to seek Lord Shiva’s blessings. We joined the line, which stretched endlessly, and ended up waiting for two long hours. While standing in the queue, we didn’t let boredom take over. We laughed, joked, and teased each other the entire time. Shailesh started narrating funny stories, and Ujjwal added his witty comments, leaving everyone around us smiling too. I was on a waterless fast that day, so my energy was running low, but their antics kept me going. When we finally reached the mandir for Shivji’s darshan, the moment felt surreal. After praying, Shailesh and Ujjwal saw the Maha-Prasad being served and couldn’t resist. They went straight for it like they hadn’t eaten in days! Watching them devour the prasad like two hungry beggars was the funniest thing ever. Meanwhile, I stood there, fasting, and gave them the “I’m judging you” look. They just laughed and continued eating. That day was filled with divine vibes, laughter, and unforgettable moments. Shivratri at Someshwar Mandir will always be special for us.
Written by Ankush_Patil
The Silent Boy My name is Ankush. People say I am handsome and smart. They notice my looks, my calmness, my style. But no one notices the words I keep inside. I don’t talk much. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know how. Words get stuck in my mind, and by the time I think of saying them, the moment is gone. So, I write. In this notebook, I write everything I wish I could say. I write about the people I want to talk to but can’t. I write about the jokes I think of but never share. I write about the feelings I have but never express. At college, people know me but don’t really know me. They smile at me, I smile back, but that’s all. No deep conversations, no real connections. I sit in class, knowing the answers but not raising my hand. I walk through the campus, wanting to join a group but choosing to sit alone. Today, a girl named Riya came up to me. She asked, “What are you writing?” I wanted to tell her everything. That I write because I can’t speak. That my words are trapped on paper, waiting for someone to read them. That I wish I could be like others, laughing, talking, sharing. But all I said was, “Just random stuff.” She smiled. “Can I read it?” I hesitated. No one had ever read my words before. But something about her made me want to share. Slowly, I pushed my notebook towards her. She read. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t judge. When she looked up, she simply said, “Your words are beautiful.” For the first time, I felt heard—without even speaking.