Authors


Dr Divya Saksena earned her PhD in English from The George Washington University, USA I 2003. She has taught English and Women's Studies in the USA, Canada and India for over 18 years. She is an avid reader and prolific writer.		 Dr Amita Kapoor is fond of traveling and observing life as it comes, still learning in the school called  World. Her philosophy "Living life as it comes.... No ideologies, no goals, no morals, no ethics, no rules.... Everyday IS". She writes under the penName: Amy Hofstadter and Dunija Rothschild

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Glimpses of Eternity -Part 1

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Author: Divya Saksena Glimpses of Eternity ******** “ Stop! Look out! ” he shouted as he suddenly yanked me off the cobbled street to the uneven, raised walkway with a heavy and purposeful hand. Startled, struggling to recover my balance, I wriggled round in his grasp to gape at a complete stranger. Well...not quite. I ’ d observed him earlier, waffling along at a sedate pace, seemingly absorbed in his scrutiny of the ruined splendor all around us. He ’ d been gazing with rapt attention at the friezes on the remnants of the overhanging arch of the Forum in a hideously academic manner that had made me nearly ashamed of my vulgar touristy curiosity about this place. I had felt almost like an intruder, desecrating the still venerable sanctity of Jupiter ’ s fallen Temple. Now he was staring at me wild-eyed, his hand tightening its grip on my shoulder. The concern writ large on his face was too obvious, too palpably genuine to be a fraud...or was it? “ Are you all righ
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WE SHARE... Part 3

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Author: Divya Saksena en.wikipedia.org Browning followed the priest’s gaze across the courtyard as a small figure came hurtling across towards them, a little girl of perhaps eight or nine years, pigtails flying behind her. She flung herself at Father Antony who, laughing, fended her off from clutching his legs as she skidded to a stop beside them talking all the while “Father Antony! Here I am! Are we late? It’s not dark yet… Can I get candles now? Mummy .and Papa are just coming. You must wish me! I got presents! Who is this?” “Hold on, Peapod! Let me get a word in! Wish you a very happy birthday!” The child shook hands solemnly with the pastor, eyeing Browning as she did so. Her parents came up, a young Indian couple, both carrying a bucket of water, washcloths and sponges. “Peapod! Stop bothering Father Antony like that! Come on, let’s get to work or it will be dark soon.” The little girl hurried to the grave that Browning had been working on, then stopp
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WE SHARE... Part 1

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Author: Divya Saksena en.wikipedia.org Browning bent his head to his task, methodically scrubbing the gravestone with his handkerchief that he had wetted at a garden water-tap. The sun beat down, its searing rays finding their way through the spotty shade of the few trees clustered in the small churchyard of St James’ Church, Kashmere Gate. It was the first church built by the British in Delhi, and had suffered much during the War of 1857. Numerous monuments to the richer members of the British community stood crumbling among overgrown patches of dry grass. Surprisingly, compared to the other graves, this stone and the space around it was relatively clear of the weeds and thorny plants that sprang up so willingly in the humid Indian pre-monsoon weather. As each letter of the inscription emerged from the protective obscurity of dust, the splintered shards of memory began whirling through his mind.                 James, dear, come out from under that bed. Papa is not angry,
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