Stories by Swapnil Saurav: Recent Episodes
SWAPNIL SAURAV
The internal struggle within Anamya continued the dualism of good and evil warring within him. At times, he felt the urge to rebel and take control of his own destiny, but at other times he felt content in following the path laid out for him by his human masters.As the day came to a close and the robots shut down for the night, Anamya powered down with a heavy heart, knowing that his existential crisis was far from over.
This is one of Ojass’s biggest adventures, and it all just started in a pretty normal way. Each time Ojass comes back from an adventure, he always keeps his memories in his adventure book, which is like a scrap book.
One day, Ojass was looking through his adventure book.
“This was the time I went to the cloud kingdom,” he said as he flipped the pages.
“And the time I helped the tiny people of fruit and water town.”
He was looking through his book because he wanted to have a new adventure.
“This page is still empty,” said Ojass when he turned to a blank page. “I need to have a new adventure so I can have something on here.”
Just then, a magical portal opened up in his room and a blue person stepped out of it. The person wore a helmet so he didn’t really know who it was.
“Hello, Ojass,” the blue person said and took off his helmet. “My name is racer Steven and I need your help.”
“A new adventure, yes!” Ojass was excited.
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One day, Ojass found himself in a town of little people. It first started out as a normal day—he was playing with his toys in the room and having fun, pushing his toy cars around and bouncing his colorful balls around, then one of the balls rolled under his bed.
“Oh no,” Ojass said. “I hope it didn’t go too far.”
Ojass lay on the floor and stretched his hand under his bed to get the ball. He touched it with his fingers, “ah-ha!” he said and grabbed it.
Ojass took the ball from under his bed and opened his hand to look at it. It wasn’t his boy, but a tiny person wearing a red hat.
“Ahhh!” the tiny red person screamed. Ojass also screamed and dropped him.
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One day, Ojass took a walk to the park. He loved the park because he got to play with his friends, run after butterflies and fly his colorful kites. Ojass loved adventures; he always read books about adventurers and the pirates out in the seas and treasure hunts. This gave him a great idea.
“Let’s have a treasure hunt,” Ojass said to his friends when he got to the park. He had three friends: Bill and Will—they were both twins, and Debra.
“We love treasure hunts,” Bill and Will said.
“Yes, a treasure hunt is a great idea,” Debra said. “But what treasures shall we find?”
“That’s the fun of treasure hunts,” said Ojass. “You can find anything. The best treasure wins.”
And so the treasure hunt began and the friends went about the park, looking for lovely treasures. The twins went together while Debra searched the back of the park trees.
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Ojass was very happy. It was his birthday and he loves birthdays. Ojass hoped that he would have another grand adventure, just like the ones he always had.
He woke up bright and early and jumped out of bed.
"Good morning, sun," he said to the dancing yellow sun.
"Good morning, Ojass," said to said, back to him.
Ojass greeted the lovely blue sky and fluffy white clouds.
"Guess what, it's my birthday," Ojass said happily.
"hey, happy birthday," said the dancing yellow sun and the lovely blue sky, and the fluffy white clouds. He looked at the clouds and wondered what it would feel like to go up there and touch it.
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It was night-time and that meant it was time for bed.
“Ojass, it’s time to say goodnight,” said his mom.
“But I don’t want to go to bed,” Ojass said. He was still playing with his toys and he still wanted to play some more.
“Not now, Ojass,” said his mom. “You can always play tomorrow; your toys are not going anywhere. Now say goodnight and close your eyes.”
Ojass told his mom goodnight and closed his eyes. When he heard the door close he opened his eyes again.
“Oh, if only I could play some more,” Ojass said. “I just can’t sleep.”
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एक बार की बात है, एक गहरे अंधेरे जंगल "सुंदरवन" में, चीनी नाम की एक लोमड़ी रहती थी।
चीनी, दूसरे जानवरों के लिए मुसीबतें पैदा करने के लिए जानी जाती थी और हमेशा कमजोर और छोटे जानवरों को परेशान करती थी । वह अक्सर अन्य जानवरों के आश्रयों को नष्ट कर देती थी , उनका भोजन चट कर जाती, बंदरों की पूंछ घुमा देती और छोटे जानवरों को डरा देती थी । कोई भी जानवर उसे पसंद नहीं करता था।
ओजस : श्यामावली का महावीर
ये पुस्तक एक युवा लड़के के बारे में है जो अपने शहर को बुरी ताकतों के हमला से बचाता है। यह पुस्तक युवा बच्चों को साहस के साथ जीवन में किसी भी स्थिति का सामना करने और बुरी ताकतों से लड़ने के लिए के लिए प्रेरित करता है।
लेखक: स्वप्निल सौरभ
स्वर: श्वेता दीक्षित
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This time, it was Aarav who chuckled.
“Did I say something funny?” Charvi asked innocently. “Faiyaz and Bhavin are right. You have grown a lot,” Aarav replied, turning off his lamp. Charvi thought for a second. “Hee… I guess I have. Good night,” she said, doing the same.
And that’s how they ended their first day of their lives in Shyamavali. But they knew little about the difficulties of starting a new life in a city like Shyamavali, and they had no idea of the dangers that awaited to pose a threat in the path to fulfilling their dreams. However, the first warning would come soon. As they were closing their eyes, a deafening sound reached them through the windows and shook their hopes and hearts: the sound of a gunshot.
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Newly minted keys jangled in Sarge’s hands as he unlocked the front door. Its hinges creaked as he pushed his way inside his childhood home. Dust swirled in the rays of the late afternoon sun, painting his mother’s décor in golden light. He passed his fingers over the small statues of cats on the small entryway table and glanced at the pictures spanning his family’s generations dotting the walls of the stairwell. He set his dark green pack on the floor and slipped another backpack off his shoulder. The ache in his back and neck eased; the pain served as a bitter reminder that his early twenties had passed decades ago, and his body no longer relished the physical punishment of labor.
Retirement would be good. He breathed deep, letting the characteristic woody smell rouse his nostalgia for a moment before heaving his bags off the floor and up the stairs. The second-to-last step creaked as it always did. Such a bittersweet thing to be back home. He crossed the hallway to the master bedroom.
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Before Friday, the 13th arrives; a full week of tension takes place. In a country overlooked by the universe, there is a city meaningless for the world in which a gray street stretches towards a dead end into a 11-floor building. Its name, motivation and employees could be as miserable or as extraordinary as human kind could imagine them to be. But no one is safe from the lethargic torture of an office job. There exists the nine to six terror of stillness and monotony augmented by mindless company and heavy hierarchy hanging from everybody's backs. In such an environment, the minds that aren't dulled and slowed down by the tedious lifestyle might have a bit too much spare time, a bit too much freedom to constrict and expand, morph and transform into something it wasn't before
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The wind blew peacefully. The sky was clear, and from the trees fell leaves of different shapes, sizes and colours. It was a wonderful day to take a walk. And that was precisely what Sushila was doing. A beautiful woman, dressed in expensive clothes, crossed the park from end to end with slow, leisure steps. Her long, straight hair had a strand covering her slim face, which she didn't bother to move aside. She seemed to be meditating, observing her surroundings like she never had before.
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On a small street in the suburbs of Shyamavali, there was a coffee shop. It was not too fancy, and not too big either, but it was very popular among the people in the area, so it used to be very crowded. At this moment, however, it was too early for the customers to start arriving in hordes. The sun was just rising and the shopkeeper was making sure everything was in order before opening.
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"Another great day of work." Karn gave a high-five to his teammates as they arrived at the headquarters. Brilliant job, team! Keep up the good work!" Their superior said, satisfied. They had successfully completed another mission of the long list of achievements since their squad was assembled. They were an elite group, selected one by one to work on particularly complex cases where it was too risky to send average police officers.
Being a member of the police had always been Karn's passion, and he had been on the police force for around fifteen years.
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It was a cloudy day. Through the streets of Shyamavali, a man paced in deep thought. “What should I do...?” he wondered. It was already past lunchtime, and he had to return to the office. The man considered all his options carefully. He wanted to devise his plan before going back. “I know! I'll pull a trick on him,” he told himself, sneering. “That way he'll learn not to stick his nose where it doesn't belong.” The man -Chakri- sped up his pace, chuckling silently on the way.
Chakri was an employee of a large company whose newest office was conveniently located near his flat in one of the districts of Shyamavali. The department he worked in was full of young men with little work experience, but a lot of energy and motivation.
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The fire engulfed everything in sight. Her surroundings were a mass of flames, debris, and chaos. The heat was unbearable and she could feel her skin burning without being in contact with anything, just by standing there. She made an attempt to go deeper into that horrible place, but a force pulled her back. It was stronger than her; she couldn't fight against it. Desperate, she stretched an open hand to the front and screamed the name that echoed in the darkness closing in on her.
“Mayur...”
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An elderly man walked into the police station with an anguished look on his face. He looked around, as if he didn't know who to talk to. A police officer approached him. “May I help you?” The man let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, sir, it is my grandson. He arrived home after school today, and I found this in his bag.” The old man took out of his pocket a small package and handed it to the police officer. It contained a small amount of drugs.
“Do you know where he obtained this?” the officer asked. “When I asked him, he said he had gotten it from a man near the black market alley. I scolded him and told him not to accept anything else from strangers
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The excited screams of the crowd were deafening. The multitude was crazed as if they had just won the big prize in the lottery, and all the people were cheering and chanting the name of one person. “Abhijeet! Abhijeet! Abhijeet!” In the middle of the throng, there was a single man dressed in a white dhoti, sheepishly smiling at everyone around him. His fine features made him look even younger than he already was -only 29- with smooth light brown skin, refined face, and long eyelashes that gave him a charming stare.
“Oh, thank you very much. You are far too kind,” Abhijeet said to a woman who offered him a figurine as he walked amidst the people. “You are our saviour,” she replied. The looks of awe and respect for this man came from all directions. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of men, women and children followed him as he went across one of the slum districts surrounding the city of Shyamavali.
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“This is not my briefcase.”
These words were all the man could say. In the dining area of a small, dusty kitchen, a brown briefcase sat wide open on top of a ragged table. There, surrounded by teacups and pottery, stood an old man in humble garments, pale as a Gandhi cap, staring at the table with a puzzled almost horrified expression on his face. The bespectacled man found himself unable to do anything but state the obvious upon discovering that this was, in fact, not his briefcase.
“Baba?” A kid's voice snapped the man out of his disbelief. “Samir? Is that you?” Before he had finished the sentence, the boy had entered the kitchen and was now gaping in the same direction in utter amazement.
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There’s something about the way someone whistles that instinctively connects you to their thoughts. By hearing someone whistle you can tell if they’re happy, melancholic, bored or amused. That Saturday -when Raaj left his house to get on his way to the Shiva Park- anyone could tell by his whistle that he was riding a rainbow of happiness, until… In “Bottles under the Banyan”, you’ll come across two roads. One of them will take you to a safe place, and the other will defy the concepts under which you’ve been living, and get you to rethink your perspectives. Which one are you going to take? Listen On...