South of the outer foothills of the Himalayan Mountain Range and north of the Brahmaputra River Basin stretches the alluvial floodplains of Dooars in the northeastern realm of the Indian subcontinent. With eighteen historic passages between the lush green plains and the imposing stone and ice mountains, it is the gateway to the kingdom of Bhutan, an ancient and magical region.
Shobosachi had trekked a solid five kilometres through the tiger reserve from the village of Santalabari to reach his destination. The year is 1980. The young man was fresh out of college, and this was to be his last adventure trip before he embarked on the bandwagon of a nine-to-five job life.
As part of the Terai-Duar savanna and grasslands ecoregion, with innumerable streams and rivers flowing from the snowcapped sierras touching the heavens, Dooars was a treasure trove of exotic and endangered birds, plants, and animals. With a keen interest in wildlife and nature photography, Shobosachi had been visiting different parts of this region for the past five years of his life, and yet he had not seen it all.
“They say that even a few lifetimes are not enough to see all of Dooars, and I have come to believe it. I love nature but my real interest is in history. That has brought me to this very particular corner of the Dooars this time,” said the enthusiastic young man as he sipped a hot cup of wild tea brewed on an open log fire by the oldest man he had ever met in the wilderness. He had not expected to see or meet any soul in the ruins of such an ancient place.
With shaky hands, the archaic senior poured a cup for himself. Slowly moving with a wobbly gait, he went and sat on a piece of rock opposite to Shobosachi, with the log fire in between them. “Let me tell you what I know,” said the oldtimer as he sipped the steaming floral concoction. The young man who had travelled a great distance to come and see this enchanting place and perhaps find out something more about it than what the pages of history said, listened on with keen interest.
The year is 1870, and after more than three decades of tireless efforts in reducing ancient feuds between the nine conflicting provinces, Jigme Namgyal, the 48th Druk Desi or secular executive of Bhutan, had finally managed to usher a reign of peace in this wild and remote mystical region.
The past thirty years of his life from 1853 to 1870, as the Trongsa Penlop or the Governor of the Province of Trongsa, ‘The Black Ruler’ not only had to unify his countrymen but also deal with a festering tension between British India and Bhutan over the Assam Dooars and Bengal Dooars terrain. For economic reasons and to secure the borders of the Empire, the British had their eye on this rich piece of land, which was the most fertile part of Bhutan in those days.
The five-month-long Duars Wars from November of 1864 to May of 1865 marked the end of this phase of the Anglo-Indo-Bhutanese conflict. Through the Treaty of Sinchula between Her Britannic Majesty’s possessions in the East Indies and the Dhum and Deb Rajahs, on the 11th day of November in 1865, Bhutan ceded 20% of its territories in this lush and fertile region to the British for an annual subsidy of rupees fifty thousand.
Now there was a most beautiful fort made of wood and bamboo in this enchanting domain, used by the Bhutanese kings of the past to guard the famous silk route passing through Bhutan connecting India and Tibet. The stronghold was very dear to ‘The Black Ruler,’ who wished his spirit would come to take refuge in the citadel after his death. It was located in today’s Kalchini community development block of the Alipurduar district of India’s West Bengal state. A part of Bhutan before the Treaty of Sinchula took place.
For many generations, this fort was a big point of contention between the rulers of Bhutan and the Indian kings of the Koch Kingdom of the neighbouring region. Hence the Koch King of India, a powerful force in this secluded and esoteric terrain, supported the Brits in their aggression against the Bhutanese, and as part of the Treaty of Sinchula, on the 11th day of November in 1865, Bhutan handed over the fort to the British.
“Who are these men in the red coats and khaki uniforms, father? Why are they carrying guns with knives attached to their tips? Have they come to kill us and take over our fort,” enquired ten-year-old Azan, hurling questions one after the other to his father?
“Hush now, little one! They are the new overlords of our beloved fort. Our king ‘The Black Ruler,’ has given up our home to them. Now it is their home too. We need to do as they say,” said the old fort-caretaker to his curious son as soldiers of the Bengal Native Infantry of the British Indian Army marched into the wood and bamboo stronghold to stake their claim.
“Don’t lament my son! A home is not made of its roofs and walls; it is made of beings – animals, humans and all who shelter in it from heat, cold, rain, and storm. Their essence and presence never go away, even after death. Even the red coats and the khaki now belong to this place as much as you and me. Don’t cry my son, my spirit shall always be here,” saying these final words, Azan’s father took his last breath and left this mortal world. A month after the British takeover, the old caretaker had fallen from a scaffold while working on the fort’s reconstruction.
Realising its strategic importance, immediately after taking it over, the British started tearing down the fort’s wood and bamboo structure to rebuild it with stone. It was a shock for ten-year-old Azan to see his home being ripped apart by foreigners. He understood from his father’s dying words that no matter what happened to the fort, no matter how it morphed, it would always be his home. The spirit of his father and others who loved the place would always be there.
Azan’s mother had passed away a few years back, and now with his father’s sudden demise, he had become an orphan. This vacuum in blood relations brought the little man closer to the transforming castle. He had come to consider the stronghold to be his kin. Azan believed that any man, creature, being, no matter how loving or vile, who came within its walls, became a part of the fort and his own family.
From 1865 to 1885, for the next twenty years, Azan and the other remaining Bhutanese residents of the fort worked alongside the Anglos and the Indian soldiers of the British. They transformed the castle into a stronghold of mortar and stone from its wood and bamboo origins. In between, in 1881, Jigme Namgyal, ‘The Black Ruler,’ passed away, and everyone wondered whether his spirit left the mortal realm or had come back to the fort to roam in and haunt the place.
The initial years of British occupancy though hard in labour were rewarding for Azan as they enhanced the strength and beauty of the fort. Though occasionally oppressive, the new overseers were generally peaceful. The seclusion and remoteness of the fort severed the British regiment from the constant oversee and tyrannical influence of their mother force. This made them less brutal and more tolerant of the Bhutanese natives.
Azan was now thirty, and his beloved fort was all-new built with mortar and stone. The original wood and bamboo structure was gone and only remained as fading images from his childhood. The British General who was in charge of the fortress fell in love with the place. He also said that if his spirit was unable to leave the mortal realm after death, it would come and reside in the citadel.
The General soon realised Azan’s potential in taking care of the place. He saw that Azan not only knew every wood and brick in the citadel but had a certain degree of love for the fort that no one else possessed. Like his father, Azan too was made the caretaker of the stronghold in the wilderness.
The young man dedicated the next eighteen years of his life to smooth out any flaw in the construction of the fort. Then there came a change in 1903 when the armies of the three presidencies of British India, namely the Madras Presidency (or the Presidency of Fort St. George), the Bombay Presidency, and the Bengal Presidency (or the Presidency of Fort William), were absorbed into the British Indian Army.
After providing years of dedicated service to the crown, the good old British General of Azan’s citadel left for his home back in England and died a few years later. No one knew whether his spirit made heavenly abode or returned to his beloved citadel.
Now came a new General with new blood and a band of the most brutal recruits. Unlike the old General, the new one was ruthless. On the very first day, he executed five old men to spread his shadow of tyranny in the hearts and minds of the people of the fortress.
From 1903 to 1930, for nearly three decades, the British did their worst to the fort and its residents. Through torture, food deprivation, sickness, and execution, they managed to eliminate all the original native Bhutanese residents till only Azan was left. They could not kill Azan for his immense knowledge and experience in keeping up the place.
The little boy was now sixty-five. He had lost everyone he had ever cared for, and his beloved fort was slowly crumbling. Then came the nightmarish transformation of his cherished home into a detention camp and high-security prison. For the next seventeen years till the independence of India in 1947, Azan’s fort became the most notorious prison in British India after Andaman’s Cellular jail. Many Indian revolutionaries were brought here, tortured, and even killed by the British.
The little boy was not eighty-two years of age. With the exodus of the British, Azan was left all alone in his fort in the wilderness. He spent the next twelve years of his life mostly in solitude. The old caretaker could no longer look after the place with the same vigour of his youth. His beloved home gradually turned into a ruin in the jungle. The old man slowly prepared for his life to end.
At this time, in 1959, further up north across Bhutan, Chinese troops moved aggressively against the highly celebrated Drepung monastery in Tibet. Most of the ten thousand monks that lived there, were mercilessly slaughtered by the Chinese forces, while only a few hundred escaped.
Covering a distance of nearly four hundred kilometres on foot across some of the harshest hilly terrain and treacherous mountain passes, these monks, representing all the diverse Tibetan orders, landed on Azan’s doorsteps. The little boy who had become an old man waiting to meet his maker once again found a purpose of existence.
For the next twelve years, the monks from the Drepung monastery in Tibet made the fort their refugee camp and set up a monastic study centre there. It was not until 1971, that they were relocated to Bylakuppe and Mundgod in the state of Karnataka by the Indian Government. The little boy a hundred-and-six now was once again left all alone. After a lifelong struggle, he could finally spend the December days of his life in peace, in the ruins of his beloved home, the fortress in the wilderness.
“That was just nine years ago. I still remember reading it in the papers, how the monks were reluctant to leave this place and how they were finally convinced by a message from the Dalai Lama to relocate. Well sir, what happened to Azan,” enquired Shobosachi while sucking out the last droplets of the wild tea from his cup of clay?
“The little boy is now a hundred-and-fifteen talking to a young man with a keen interest in the fort in the jungle,” replied the old man and rose up to pour himself and his youthful acquaintance another cup of wild tea brewing on the log fire under the starlit evening sky in the open courtyard of the ruins of the Buxa fort, the citadel in the wilderness.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
wonderful! 🤗❤️🙏🏼👍🏼
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Thank you so much for your appreciation. I treasure it.
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Reblogged this on Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News.
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Thank you so much Ned, for being the 1st person for reblogging my story. Really treasure your constant support.
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Wow! Trishikh very interesting and inspiratng story. Thanks for share.
Have a wonderful time!
Elvira
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Dear Elvira, thank you so much for your lovely comment. So happy that you liked the story.
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Trishikh, it is a pleassure reading your stories.
Thanks for your kindness.
Take care.
Elvira
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The pleasure is equally mine Elvira.
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Thanks Trishikh
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A very interesting and absorbing story.
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So glad that you find my story interesting and absorbing. It gives me great joy when someone appreciates.
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How could I not appreciate such a beautiful story?
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My million thanks again.
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Most welcome.
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Beautiful 😍
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Appreciation works as magic for my writing efforts. Thank you so much.
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The way you picked history and combined it with a heart whelming story is touching..😇
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My pleasure to have been able to share this story, blending history with a dash of fiction. So happy that you liked my little tale.
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Thank you so much for reblogging this story of mine. Really appreciate the gesture.
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Really like the details in your writing!
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Thank you Vanya. Was just a little be sceptical about smoothly blending history with fiction.
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I could feel the passage of time and I am grateful that there is someone to remember!
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Dear Patrick, thank you so much. Yes, the passage of time was something that I wanted to highlight in this story.
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Beautiful story history with imagination ! You have created an inspiring one. Thanks for sharing 💕😊🎉
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Thank you Priti. Your comment gives me great joy.
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I am happy to know that you are overjoyed to my comments.😊😊😊
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The imagery in your stories has me longing for a “cup of wild tea brewing on the log fire under the starlit evening sky in the open courtyard of the ruins of the Buxa fort, the citadel in the wilderness.”
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I am glad to have been able to paint this picture in words for you. Who knows, one day you might get a chance to visit the fort.
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What a lovely story. Thank you.
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Thank you so much Marthe. So glad that you like the story.
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⚘️👌 The guiding Chararacter with the back drops of Himalayan touch moving with the historic theme makes it the best story for the day. I enjoyed the details and felt I visited the place. Extreme wilderness feel. Looking for the next one TD🌺
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Wow, your comment really elates me. While writing the tale, I was constantly questioning myself, that there was too much of history and less of a story. Your comment gives me much confidence, that my efforts were not that bad. Treasure your feedback.
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Most welcome . Wish you a nice week end and keep safe always.
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Thank you for sharing this history with us through a story. I like the main characters.
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Thank you Rebecca. Glad that you liked my story, the history in it, and specially the main character.
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This is a charming story, Trishikh, again full of wonderful historical details.
Just one tiny correction; the question mark should be after Azan’s question to his father and not after the whole sentence.
Joanna
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Dear Joanna, thank you so much for liking the story. Yes, this one is more inclined towards the history of things. Will rectify the question mark, must have been an oversight on my part. I really appreciate you pointing it out.
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You are welcome.
Apologies for being a bit late, it is the war here and the unpredictability of the future…
Joanna
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Yes, winds of war effects everyone with varying intensite.
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Be aware, Trishikh, that it will affect India too. Inflation.
Joanna
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Yes, that’s exactly what I am also saying. Infact it has already affected India in certain ways. I am praying that things get resolved in more peaceful ways.
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I love the history in this story, it is very interesting. Thank you!
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It really makes my day, when you say that you love the history in this story. I was really worried about the outcome but now am confident from your feedback, that the history has come out good. Thank you so much for this lovely comment. I really treasure it.
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My pleasure.
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Hi Trishikh, I’m imagining, it’s you “Shobosachi”, travelling rich cultural parts of West Bengal, interested in listening the people’s history by in their words.
“Oral History” has scope in India. Because in Europe, political and social events were documented since early days, whereas, in Indian, we believe in, generation to generation passing stories.
‘Citadel in The Wilderness” is the biography of Azan. This character leads the story. He tells Shobosachi about his father, the childhood and the citadel.
The British colonial government rebuilds the citadel with stones, turning it into a jail, later, Tibbatan saints seek refuge here.
The base of the story is strong. It has connections with the reality. But as a writer you have fully enjoyed your freedom. You’re too good at giving direction to the story end.
I congratulate you. Your readers are lucky to have you. Thank you for writing this short story.
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Dear Lokesh,
Reading your comment at the start of the day gives me great joy. I was a bit doubtful with this story of mine, how my readers would react to it.
One thing I have learnt, is to write different kinds everytime, so my readers can always expect the unexpected in writing style, storyline, fiction-history balance, etc.
I have seen, emotional stories are best accepted, story with unexpected ends are 2nd, and historically heavy stories are 3rd on the like list of my varied range of readers. This proves that the best story perhaps would be very emotionally strong, with a very unexpected end, and with a perfect amount of history, not too much. Just sharing my thoughts and learnings from the last 20 months of writing this short story blog.
Have a great day,
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I do agree with you. Emotional stories are closer to our hearts. Receiving valuable feedback keeps a writer moving.😁👍
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Very true Lokesh, very true. Let’s keep on writing and sharing our knowledge. In this way all of us will grow.
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The history in this story is, in my eyes, not the most commendable part of British (or Chinese) history, but it shows also that there are good people (and bad ones) everywhere. I am thinking of the first group of British soldiers, who were stationed in the fort. Though tough, I do find the history interesting, as well as the destiny of this last Bhutan, who has seen so much in his life.
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You are very right Stella, there are both good and evil people in any community. We should not brand a community in any way due to the actions of some of its members. Though the British did a lot of injustice in India, there were many Britishers who did a lot for India and its people. I am so glad that you liked the history in this story. Your comment gives me great joy.
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It amazes me how every time you pen down such a beautiful piece describing a place. Trust me i feel like visiting the places and knowing more about them!! You are amazing ✨
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Your comment always gives me great joy Arpita. So glad that my descriptions make you yearn to visit the places in my stories. Bauxa Fort and Tiger Reserve is not hard to visit. Best of luck to you for traveling there someday.
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I have very little knowledge in history. I didn’t know all these about the history arround the border of Bengal, Assam and Bhutan. A little was known to me that Bhutan captured King of coochbehar. Later on with the help of British regime, king could be freed. The name of the place where king was welcome is known as Raja bhat khaoa.
Very interesting story you have depicted here. History is always full of invasion. History is full of war on territories.
Wars were there.
Wars are there right now.
What happens to the citizens?
এই যুদ্ধ, হতাহতের সংখ্যা কত?
ক্ষতি কত?
গৃহ ছাড়া কত?
শোকার্ত স্বজনদের কাছে কে আসবে?
Who are there to help those suffering from the outcome of wars.
I can feel the content of your post. What happened during that period.
What is happening now in Ukraine!!
Let us have a peaceful world.
One world. One language. Language of love, humanity.
Peace and prosperity comes through love only. Let the leaders have that knowledge. Peace keeping mission is wanted from all leaders.
Finally I am thankful to you that , I got 1000 likes which came out as you liked lot many posts of Upanishads, just yesterday.
Thank you so much Trishikh Sir.
Have a wonderful time ahead.😌😊🙏
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Dear Arun,
I am so glad to have been able to bring forth a little bit of history about the Dooars region that I came to know after researching. It gives me greatest joy when I am able to share, in this case I was able to share a bit of history.
Your views on war are similar to mine. War is the money making tool of the richest when the poor and other classes suffer the most. Sometimes it cannot be avoided, however, I pray that the war in Ukrain gets over soon. I pray that they find out other means to communicate.
It is my pleasure to like your posts. I am so glad that you secured a thousand likes. In future the number would grow more. My blessings and best wishes are with you.
Take care good old friend.
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Thank you so much for your beautiful lines.
Happy to know that you have same opinion regarding war.
I wish this war ends now through dialogue.
No more losses.
I am happy that you like my posts.
I am happy that you have wished for me to secure more number of likes.
I wish my posts reach out to people.
This is nothing but science of mind.
Thank you so much. We are always together to bring peace and happiness in society.
Regards 🙏😊❤️
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The pleasure is equally mine Arun. Best wishes in all your efforts. The war will end soon, of that I am certain. Humanity has grown too much to fight like this anymore.
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Let us hope for the best.😊👍
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Thanks Arun, may your words come true.
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👍✔️👌😊
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intuitive, moving and inspiring creation! I read it over a couple times and it inspires me to brew a poem “home” in my mind…. I hope to materialize the pome soon….
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This is such an honour to have been able to inspire you to write a poem. I thank you for your lovely comment.
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Trishikh: This story gave me chills.
I greatly admire the fluidity and grace with which you blend historical (or quasi historical) information with descriptions and character development.
I have also been meaning to tell you how much I appreciate your generous visits to my blog.
(This is the third time I’ve tried to leave a message here. I have a new iPhone that swallowed all my passwords!)
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Dear Annie, I know technology can be challenging at times, especially when we shift to new devices.
Am so glad for your comment. Your words always gives me great joy. Blending history with fiction is a big passion of mine.
It is my pleasure to visit your blog and enjoy your posts as well.
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I’ve often read of the brutality of British treatment of local populace in colonized lands. I’m glad that Azan outlived the worst years of such oppression. I also like how you describe this aging man through his childhood eyes.
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Sadly the British have been brutal in the colonies, however, there have also been many Britishers who have loved and contributed to India in great ways.
I am so glad that you liked my characterisation. Thank you for being a constant support to my writing efforts.
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To me, characterization is the most important component of a story.
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I also agree with you. I too give a lot of stress on characterisation. It does take up a lot of my writing space. Since these are short stories, I am always fighting to reduce the words. You see, I personally feel, at least for me, it’s easier to write a novel, where I can keep on writing to express myself, however, a short story is always challenging, as you have limited space to say everything.
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Sorry for being late. I don’t know why I don’t get notifications. This is one more interesting and captivating story from you, Trishikh. The character of Azan has been weaved beautifully with historical facts. Your style of story telling is unique, when you combine history with imagery. Keep it up. All the best 👍
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Dear KK, your comment has just come at the right time, when other comments have slowed down. So it gives me great joy. I am really happy that you liked the story. Thank you so much for your tender words of appreciation.
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You’re welcome, always 😊💐
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Thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog. Really appreciate the gesture.
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Brilliant Narrative
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Thank you so much Ananda.
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Hi Trishikh! Is there a specific day when you post your stories? I was doing my usual rounds of visiting each blogger who follows me and I when I noticed a new post by you and already 257 likes!
Your last two posts haven’t been showing up on my reader. Is there a day when I can come and check your blog for posts?
Ok, now with that out of the way. I have a request. Could you please read the last two stories written by me, namely I’m adopted and Andr-dr-drea and give your feedback? Please feel free to share your thoughts. Don’t hold back.
I love love loved this story! I always try and figure out in the beginning where your story will go and mostly I’m surprised by the turn of events. Even when it’s predictable, it still has that element of gratification. Very well written and I enjoyed the pace as well.
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Dear Harshi, the best way to follow someone is to activate an email notification for new posts for the person. Then everytime he or she publishes a post, you will get a notification. You can click this feature “on” for the selective blogs that you like very much and switch it off for other blogs that you casually follow. I however, ideally like to release a story on a Saturday, sometimes rarely it will be a Friday or a Sunday, but it has to be a weekend. I try to write and publish a story every weekend, but I have failed many times in the past due to other commitments, priorities, and sickness etc.
I will certainly visit your blog and comment on the last two of your stories as you have requested.
Finally thank you so much for liking this story of mine. So glad that you loved it. Your words give me confidence that it has come out satisfactory.
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Thank you Trishikh for visiting. Deeply appreciated!
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The pleasure is equally mine Harshi.
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Wonderful story! I really like how you weave history and fiction. I always enjoy learning history!
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The pleasure is equally mine. So gald that you liked the story. It gives me great joy, when I am able to share a little piece of history with someone.
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Reblogged this on Write and Create (from Creative Writing Course).
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Thank you so much Craig for reblogging this story of mine. Really appreciate your constant support.
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Love this. So many dimension to it.
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Thank you so much Kally. So glad that you found my story to be multidimensional.
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Must say, an awesome blogger here with splendid works.. Glad to follow your beautiful creative corner. 👍🏼🙏🏻😇👌🏼👌🏼…
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Thank you so much. Appreciation works as the best fuel to my writing engine. So glad that you like my stories. Look forward to you visiting again.
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🙏🏻😇
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Great and beautiful story. Story of a person in the jungle of the world, doing the right thing, always the right thing. There is a beautiful silence around this person, as if the noise of the world did not quite reach him, not to his inner core.- There is a lot of serious craftsmanship in this story, worthy of admiration. Every sentence focused and full of purpose. Great concentration. No superfluous words. – Congratulations, and thanks so much. I am really grateful. Stories like this one come like an unexpected present.
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Dear Peter, Reading your comment at the start of the day gives great joy. Since I do not have any financial angle to writing stories, appreciation is my greatest reward, and in this regard you really made my day. Your analysis of Azan’s character is very in-depth. You have rightly spotted some of the golden trims of his character. Do visit again, and read some of my other stories when you have the frame of mind and feel like. I am sure you would love many of them. I try to write and publish a story every weekend.
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I am here, with great joy and expectation. Have a great day, and take care of yourself.
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I am sure your enjoy reading my stories very much. A great day to you too, friend.
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After listening to the old man Azan, whose story is almost as old as himself, our youthful Shobosachi I feel, while sipping his hot cup of wild tea brewed on an open log, (if even for an instant), should he really bury himself in a nine-to-five… lifeless… history less office… and have no tale to tell at a ripe old age…? or should he instead, like Azan, find his own place in history…
🇯🇲🏖️
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Dear JM, You have raised a curious question – How would youthful Shobosachi’s life change after this encounter with history. I like to believe that he would try his best to get away from the nine-to-five job and ink a better story for his own legacy.
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The British and the French were like the black plague, & where it still reigns & wanted to have everything, they attacked very quietly and effectively. Somehow the world was not outraged, could it not know another interesting story, best regards
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There is no denying of the atrocities committed by the British and French, however, I know there were many good hearted Britishers and French people too who have positively contributed to the growth of humanity. To add to your thoughts, I also think that evil exists alongside good. Bad people are present in every nation. Thank you for liking my story and giving such a beautiful comment. I treasure every ounce of your appreciation.
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A composition of a historical account beautifully combined with romantic reminiscence.
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So happy that you liked it. History combined with romantics can be an enjoyable read indeed.
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Great sharing…wonderful story
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Thank you so much Chandan. So glad that you liked the story.
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Warm welcome 😊
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My good friend, I want you to know how much I appreciate all of the likes that you have put on my posts. I can never thank you enough. Please continue doing all of the good things that you have been doing with your own blog.
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It is my pleasure to do so. I also sincerely appreciate all the likes and comments that you make on my stories. I look forward to your continued appreciation too.
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Thank you very much.
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Thanks for your like of my post on Daniel 1; you are very kind.
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Its my pleasure to do so. You are most welcome.
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Thank you.
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A beautiful blend of old and young.
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Thank you so much for appreciating. Always a treat to receive your appreciation.
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a very talented writer.
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Thank you so much William for appreciating. Really treasure your comment. So glad that you like my stories.
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looking forward to coming back for more friend.
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So glad to hear that. I am sure that you would enjoy many more of my stories. With regards and best wishes.
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This is a very powerful tale Trishikh. It seems there’s an historical feel to this though, but the way you took us through the times as the changes occur is exceptional.
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Dear Emmanuel, history is very close to my heart. There is a strong presence of history in many of my stories. Thank you so much for appreciating. I treasure your comment.
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Amazing story.
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Dear Ankur, thank you so much for appreciating. So happy that you liked my story.
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Always a pleasure to come and visit and find so many stories to choose from.
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My pleasure Geoff to be able to write these stories and bring them to the world. The past month I have been unable to write though. Plan to get back on my writing spree this week. Thank you so much for commenting, as it is the most important thing that encourages me.
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History is a School and the greatest story teller! Great that you are able to pen some of those stories! Thanks .
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Very true, history is a great teacher and there is so much to learn from it about our present and future too. Glad that you liked this story of mine.
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BUONA GIORNATA
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A great day to you too.
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😉
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