Little Black Book

They say your life flashes by when you are dying. I was born when the godhra riots broke out. Both my parents died during the cross fire and the communal fights. And since there was nobody who will give me a name, I named myself Godhra. I was very young when this happened. Though they say children of such young age don't remember much, I remember vividly the carnage which took place that day. My parents hid me behind a dumpster and went looking out for food and water, we had been starving for quite sometime. But as night fell and they did not return home, I ventured out as the angry noises slowly faded away which stopped during the day following loud bang-bang noises, I later came to know that these were caused by gun-fire. So i took the first steps outside the shady dumpsters, and saw the setting sun reflected from the lipid pools of liquid lying on the road. And soon my thirst took over my body and I gently licked it. It tasted like no water I had tasted. It was warm and thic...

Its morning again, I can hear the darned birds chirping outside, with my eyes still closed I can hear the ticking sound of the wall clock like the irritating sound of the water faucet dripping. The water faucet never drips in my house, because I don't like it dripping, like the way mom's head was dripping blood, and flooded the floor and spoiled the carpet. I like everything neat and clean. My name is Amul. I believe my father was especially fascinated by the utterly butterly delicious girl. Though I have a liking towards her myself I don't like to acknowledge that to anybody. Though not many people have actually found out about this connection. But am aware of this because my father during one of his happy drunken moods told me about this. And those are rare cases. I know for a fact that even if am genetically part of my father, I will never become like him. I study in the 7 th grade. And I like my school. My favorite subject is math. I don't understand why people...