Under the fading silver veil of a moonlit night, in the last hour before the dawn of morning light, on the glittery shores of a once turbulent river, an eighteen-year-old low-caste boy tirelessly shovelled grains of rock and coral into a banged-up truck’s weathered wooden cradle. The driver handed over five shiny ten-rupee coins to the boy for his tribe’s night-long clandestine labour in the wilderness. Threatening to return after two days for another load, he drove off around the undulating paths of the secluded and dug-up beach. Crossing the jungle through the unnamed road, he got on a metalled highway to deliver his precious cargo at a construction site somewhere in the constantly morphing concrete landscape of the Kolkata metropolis.
For many generations, Bali’s forefathers had lived and worked on the golden sandbanks of the Damodar River at the edge of the Tildanga Forest in the Burdwan district of India’s West Bengal state. Hailing from an unfavourable caste of the Indian society, they had known exploitation and oppression to be a part of their day-to-day life and existence.
One could say that suffering was ingrained in their DNA. Even the river that flowed in front of their mud and straw shacks, sustaining them with food and resources, had at times been cruel to them. Annually it would overflow, devastate their homes, kill their livestock, and even take their lives away.
For more than two centuries, from 1770 to 1943, the Damodar River flowing across the Indian states of Jharkhand and West Bengal was known as the ‘Sorrow of Bengal.’ Nearly every year, in the monsoon months between June and August, the neighbouring Chota Nagpur Plateau received heavy rainfall, which caused ravaging floods in the plains of West Bengal.
With the tides of civilisation in the twenty-first century, came many dams and barrages, which finally managed to tame the mighty Damodar and its raging tributaries. Now, industrial development had become both the boon and the bane of the region. By the year 2003, hundreds of factories systematically pouring their filth into the Damodar had managed to convert the mighty waterway into the dirtiest river in the subcontinent.
Though loose and fragmented, and nothing more than grains of weathered rocks in itself, as the second most consumed natural resource on Earth after water, it is the glue that binds together the world as we know of today. Sadly, it is not finite, and as a fast-depleting natural resource, one day would no longer be available. As one of the most important but least appreciated commodities of the 21st Century, there’s a little bit of sand in every human life, one could say.
Now this sand was that which had become a matter of life and death for Bali and his clan living on the edge of the Tildanga Forest on the banks of the Damodar River in India’s West Bengal State.
Sujan Sardar, a.k.a Kedu had risen through the rungs of poverty to make a name for himself. A name he was not very proud of but quite satisfying in terms of financial gain. At an early age, he had realised his strength was violence. Starting with petty theft, bootlegging, extortion, he finally became the biggest sand mafia in the region. He had laid his empire on a foundation of blood and bones.
Now, Bali and his clan were at the bottommost pit of Kedu’s illegal sand mining business. Their simple Tribe was the cheapest labour the mafia could locally find to extract sand from the riverbanks near the secluded Tildanga forest region. Bali and his kind were forced to fill Kedu’s trucks for a few pieces of coins, and the mafia lord sold the sand at lower than the market rates to build his booming empire.
Illegal sand mining from the riverbeds and riverbanks was rampant in several districts of West Bengal. The business ran into thousands of millions of rupees and worked through a nexus between local politicians, the administration, and the mafia. Bids in a legal auction could go up to twenty to thirty million rupees. Hence imagine the profit that Kedu made through illegal mining.
Clashes over the control of the riverbeds, which formed the bedrock of this booming and nefarious business, were common in the districts of Birbhum, Bankura, West Midnapore, Hooghly, Howrah, and Burdwan, and Kedu had mastered the tricks of this bloodstained trade.
“Oh Marang Buru, Supreme Deity, The Mighty Mountain God, Oh Thakur Ji, The Life-Giver, why do you allow these evil men to rule on us? Why have you abandoned us,” said Bali with tears in his eyes as he lit the funeral pyre to say adieu to his father’s mortal remains? The previous night his father had collapsed and died, filling two truckloads for the mafia, whose goons forced the old man to work beyond his exhaustion, thereby causing his sudden death.
“We are just a group of thirty, and half of us are old men, women and children. We don’t even have proper clothes to wear. What can we do against the armed goons? We can just pray that they inflict lesser harm on us every time they come to take away the sand from our golden beaches,” spoke up Tonka, the eldest member of the clan.
Bali and his Tribe had never rebelled in their lives. They had inherited the yoke of oppression from their forefathers who too were exploited in different ways by the evil men of their generations. They had no proper clothes, no tools, leave alone arms, no sturdy dwelling, only mud and straw shacks, for that matter they simply had nothing to stand against the large numbers of well-armed and hardened criminal enforcers of the mafia, the robbers of sand.
Two days after Bali’s father’s death, three trucks were back on the beach, along with a Toyota Fortuner SUV. From the silver-white four-by-four stepped out the stout and sturdy Kedu. The boss had not bloodied his hands for a long time and yearned to inflict some violence on the helpless.
Kedu was short and plump but built like stone. All his life, he had fought and killed men with his bare hands. He was a monster who took sadistic pleasure in bludgeoning his victims to death. The ten massive tungsten carbide tipped steel rings with gold trims on his fingers were not mere ornaments of display of his immense power and wealth but close combat weapons, with which he could crush bones and rip apart flesh.
“Who is this Bali I hear of from my men. Come forward you troublemaker, and I will teach you an apt lesson,” thundered the boss of goons in all his power and might. “We do not want any trouble, my lord. We will do as you command. Please spare our lives. Be merciful sahib,” spoke up Tonka, the eldest member of the clan.
“No, Tonka Baba, we will not do as he says. We have suffered under his oppression for far too long. We will not shovel a single speck of sand into his trucks today or any other day,” spoke up Bali stepping forward from amidst the trembling crowd of sand-dwellers.
“What are you doing Bali! Please control yourself, my child. These men will kill you. Oh God, please help us and put some sense into this boy’s head,” pleaded Tonka and the other members of his clan.
“God will only help those who help themselves. For generations, we have never stood up against our oppressors. Perhaps that’s why God has never helped us. I won’t die that easily, not before taking down a few of these bastards under the sand with me. Do you have the stones to face me all by yourself Kedu, or will you let your men do your evil bidding,” declared Bali, confidently taking up a crude boxing stance?
Bali was not that tall, an inch taller than Kedu. He had never fought anyone in his life and hated violence. He was lean without an ounce of fat on him. His bones were hard, his muscles were malnourished and less but cut like rock, and his black sunburnt skin was tough as leather. He was not much to look at but certainly had a bit of undiscovered strength built through years of living in nature and shovelling sand.
“Hold on everyone. No one makes a move. This feisty bugger is all mine. After a long time, I have found a worthy opponent. Taking him down will give me great joy,” saying these words, the fat and scary mafia kingpin pounced on the thin and courageous Tribal boy.
He landed the first blow on Bali’s jaw, inflicting a gashing wound across the right side of the young boy’s face. The goon’s henchmen cheered in volleys of applaud on their master’s initial triumph of violence, while the scared clan of beach-dwellers pleaded in fear and wailed.
Bali fell on the ground and stood up after a minute of being disoriented. At that moment the Tribal boy realised that he had summoned the courage to fight but lacked the skills to defeat his hardened and experienced opponent, however, he also discovered that he could get back on his feet, overcoming unbearable agony. His strength was not to fight but to bear the physical pain.
One blow after the other, on the face, in the torso, Kedu kept on hitting the young lad. Every hit from the skin-piercing bone-crushing tungsten carbide tipped steel rings ripped gashing wounds on the leathery skin of the defiant Tribal boy. The determined lad got back on his feet after every impact. Blood, gore, sweat, and tears from his body drenched the golden sands. He stood his grounds in a display of unbelievable defiance against the cruelty of a tyrant.
After the longest fifteen minutes of excruciating pain that he had ever faced in his life, Bali stood up for one last time. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” cried the Tribal boy. At that moment came the shrill noise of sirens from the unnamed road inside the forest. To Kedu and his men, it sounded like the trumpets played by the seven angles on the Judgement Day.
Within moments swarms of armed policemen poured onto the beach in their jeeps. Before Kedu and his men could react, they were well surrounded. On Wednesday the 25th of August in 2021, the Asansol-Durgapur Police apprehended Sujan Sardar, a.k.a Kedu, the biggest sand mafia in the region.
With encouragement and strict directive from the Chief Minister to curb illegal sand mining in the state, the police had been cracking down on the sand mafias in the region. For the past few months, they had been planning to apprehend Kedu red-handed. All their attempts had failed till now, as the ruffian had not come out in the open.
In the next seven days, with critical information extracted from Kedu, the police were able to nab three dozen sand smugglers and seize ten thousand cubic feet of sand mined illegally from Damodar and Ajay rivers from across the West Burdwan region.
It was as if God had worked through Bali and his clan to lure out the kingpin from his den. Acting on a timely tip from an informant, the police were able to catch up with the ruffian at the right moment. Bali’s courage to stand up against Kedu proved vital in keeping him on the beach till the cops arrived that day.
Though scarred and disfigured for life, today Bali lives on with his clan members, enjoying a happier existence. If you happen to ever visit this region of the West Bengal state, who knows you may come across a group of skimpily clad forest dwellers leading a simple life on the riverbank of the Damodar River at the edge of the Tildanga forest. Do take a moment to meet and greet them, and if possible, tell them that you know about their unsung hero, Bali, and the story of their ‘Tears On The Sand.’
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 
A beautiful story of human faith and triumph in adversity Trishikh. ❤
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Thank you so much Nguyễn, so happy that you liked my stories. Human faith is a powerful weapon. Even an ounce of it can move mountains, I believe.
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I hope so, sometimes it is a brick wall. Cheers. Happy Sunday to you.
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Very true Nguyễn, very true. A great and fruitful Sunday to you too.
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Trishikh mi sono commossa perché c’è sofferenza.
C’è anche Bali ,un giovane uomo onesto e coraggioso ,lui aiuta a chiudere un capitolo di mafia . Mi piace ,sei bravo !
È bello il tuo invito rinnovato a conoscere i luoghi del tuo Paese
. Verrei , se potessi Sereno lunedì a te .
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You are most welcome Sossu.
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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 reblogging this story of mine. Always treasure your constant support.
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Another wonderful story Trishikh! The enslavement and impoverishment of humanity is a very sad part of this planet’s history. May that quickly end and all be freed and supported in all ways.
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Dear Katelon, Thank you so much for your lovely comment. It gives me great happiness when someone gets joy out of my stories. You are very right, human’s are their greatest enemies. While we spend billion of dollars to find life on other planets, we are not willing to spend an ounce of it to preserve life on this planet, our Mother Earth.
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Yes. If you’ve read my blog you’ll know I work daily to finally shut down the dark humans who hold all the power and finally free the planet and life upon it.
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Yes Katelon, I admire your conviction to fight against the human ills that are corroding away our beautiful planet.
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Being a son of tribal society, I can relate to the character Bali. I felt his words are mine.
Damodar, Narmada, Ganga or any river, Sand Mafias are present all over India (or in the world).
Newspapers keep publishing news about illegal mining of sand and police operations.
These illegal businesses, create a community of “Organised Crime”, where only a few powerful Mafias enjoys the benefits, exploiting the weaker sections.
This needs to be stop. We should conserve and use our resources purposefully.
Government should stand and take effective actions against these Sand Mafias.
It’s a bit filmy (connecting to “PUSHPA Movie”) yet the truth of our nation, and a serious concern. 👀
Thank you for the story, Trishikh.😊
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Dear Lokesh, I have a lot of respect for the Tribal Community. For many years I have worked amidst the Santals of the seven districts of West Bengal state.
Yes you are right about the problem of illegal sand mining. It is a scourge of our times. Unfortunately political support and tolerance of the miscreants makes it impossible to completely stop this nuisance.
I have not yet seen Pushpa, but am sure it’s enjoyable. I like all sorts of movies, every kind there is under the sun, in any language. I like Allu Arjun too, he has an unique style.
Thanks for your lovely comment. Your words always brings me great joy.
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What is your next story?
Usually, you write about and around Bengal. Would you like to write a short story on Indian students in Ukraine Russia War?
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Well Lokesh, I always want to keep my next story a surprise for my readers. Yes, you are right, the majority of my stories are from the Bengal region, however, I cover other parts of India as well. Some of my tales also have touched places from other nations as well. Being a Bengali, I feel motivates and responsible to let the world know more about Bengal and its people. I will however write about anything from anywhere in this universe.
Saying all that, right now i do not know much about the war in Ukrain and Russia. All we are hearing are news and reports, the facts will come out much later. Hats off to the journalists and the people who are fetching out the stories as it is happening. It is they who should have the honour of writing about their experience as it is happening. I can always write about it, but after some time, as an outsider, after doing my share of research.
Always treasure communicating with you Lokesh.
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Good luck.
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Thanks Lokesh, your best wishes means a lot to me.
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Such a heart warming story!! An Excellent one 😊
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Thank you so much Arpita. Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation.
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You made the story so interesting with you amazing writting skill. I get to learn a lot from you. 😊👌
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My pleasure Preet. My greatest joy is to share knowledge. You someone learns something from me, it’s one of the most satisfying experiences that I can have.
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It’s a great pleasure to get knowledge from you sir. You have a lot of experience which can be seen in your stories. 😊🙏
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My experience and knowledge is only worthwhile when it is shared. So by sharing I am also able to grow.
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You are absolutely right. May you grow and grow more. 😊
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I wish for your literary growth too.
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Thank you so much sir😊🙏
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What a courageous, strong, body and mind of Bali. He safed his tribe. I hope my Bali island has the same qualities as him to get through during this difficult time. Great story Trishikh.
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Thank you so much Wayan. Always a pleasure to hear from you. Your island Bali is a beautiful place, have a dream to visit it someday.
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Thank you Trishikh, you will come here one day😀
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I look forward to it Wayan. I am sure if God wills, someday I will be able to visit.
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Yes Thrisikh, perhaps this island could give inspiration for your writing too.
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Oh certainly Wayan. The nation of Bali is so rich is stories and it has ancient connection with India. Perhaps one day I will write a story connecting the two countries.
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I will be so happy to read it, i am sure it will be so interesting since it is about my island and India which has great influence for our religion here
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Hopefully someday I will write this story Wayan.
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Yes Trishikh i will be happy to read it
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Moving and Outstanding! And though it is a story of fiction, similar things are happening all over the world. Truly this was a cracker story. Well done Trishikh. Looking forward for the next one.
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Thank you so much Michael. So glad that you liked my story. Yes, I absolutely agree with you that illegal sand mining is rampant all over the world. Though my story is a fiction, it does contain a lot of facts, statistics, and even events.
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I could tell that you wrote with knowledge and experience.
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In the guise of fiction I have tried to bring some light on the situation, you can say. Once again I thank you for your lovely comment.
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Most welcome. My pleasure 🙏
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Wow! So amazing and beautiful story about human faith, very inspirating,
Thank’s for share Trishikh.
Have a good Sunday!
Elvira
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Thank you so much Elvira. Your comments always gives me much happiness. Yes, human faith is indeed setting to behold.
A great, fruitful, and restful Sunday to you too.
Trishikh
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You are welcome, Trishikh.
Appreciate your words.
Have a restful Sunday too!
Elvira
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I have learnt so much from your stories. How do you do all your research? Also, I really buy into your characters so your writing really keeps me engaged. Great read!
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My share to share a little bit of history from my part of the world. My research is mostly online, lots of books whenever I get them, word of mouth from others, my personal experiences and so much more. Everything just comes together to help me write a story. I am so glad that you like my characters, they are very dear to my heart. Thank you for your lovely comment.
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Excellent sir
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Thank you so much.
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The tungsten “brass knuckles” were well described and their brutal effects on poor Bali. I’m glad the less powerful man won, due to police intervention. I bet that illegal sand mining is not only hard on people but terrible for the environment. Does it cause flooding? What other work might Bali find to do where he lives? Thank you for sharing stories that are like histories of regular people.
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Dear Rebecca, so glad that you liked my description of the brass knuckles. They bring a bit of drama in my story.
You have raised some pertinent questions about Bali and his clan’s livelihood options. Well they hardly have any viable options. Since they have been forest t beach dwellers for generations I think they have their own nature centric ways of survival. Very different from us City dwellers.
Yes sand mining does have an effect on the natural ecology of the place and perhaps will also impact flooding, which is not so much now due to construction of several dams.
Lastly I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and beautifully commenting on my story.
Have a great day.
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Thank you for your detailed reply, Trishikh. Your writing has the universality, detail, quality and depth to become read worldwide. I look forward to a published book of your work.
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Hopefully some day Rebecca. I also look forward to it. Till now I have not made any conscious efforts to publish, but the dream is there in me.
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I like how you are building your narrative treasures each week for the future collection.
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Yes Rebecca, I am trying my best to write amidst a full time job and family life. It is tiring at times. At times I miss my weekend deadlines but am continuing.
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You’re doing a great job. Blessings to you and your family.
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Thank Rebecca, through the blessings and blest wishes from friends like you, and through the divine grace of the Almighty, I am sure may stories would reach many corners of the world and bring much joy to readers and far and beyond.
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The character of Bali is impressive, as he wants to stop what had happened to his own father. Illegal sand mining and mafia are everywhere now. I have seen myself in states of Bihar and MP. Kedus may also be seen, though Balis are not much. Thank you, Trishikh for weaving an interesting story out of this criminal aspect.
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Dear KK, as always, your comment gives me great joy. You are right the sand mafia is present everywhere and many who raise a voice against them are silenced. Not all get the timely intervention of the police.
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It’s my pleasure, Trishikh. In MP, a lady police officer was attacked by the goons, when she tried to intercept them. They are really dangerous people.
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Oh yes, that certainly they are.
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This is a beautifully written story, Trishikh! Thanks for sharing.
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Thanks Dawn. I always look forward to your comments. It gives me great joy.
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Beautiful story..
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Thank you so much Verma’ji for your kind words of appreciation. I treasure them.
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I will add my tears to the sand. this left me very quiet as I am still pondering the courage of Bali. all of your stories are precious!
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Thank you so much Patrick. The least I could have is shared about this cruelty with the larger world and bring about awareness.
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Though they are fighting back, I kept thinking of the brave Ukrainians standing up to Putin as Bali stood up to Kedu. I realize the war is not covered as fully in India, but we are seeing its horrors every day.
I was completely uninformed about the sand mafia, which is apparently a huge problem. So I learned from this inspiring story, as I always do when I read your work, Trishikh.
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Dear Rebecca, war is scourge of human society. Unfortunately it cannot be avoided at times. It is very sad to see what is happening in Ukrain, specially in the 21st century, when humans have evolved so much.
Am glad that to have been able to enlighten you about the problem of sand mafia. Unfortunately it is present in many parts of the world.
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Trishikh: I left a comment that may or may not have gone through. Please tell me if you don’t get it—and I’ll return. Still having phone problems.
Thanks so much.
Annie
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I got your comment Annie, just was fighting with time to answer. Have replied in a hurry. You have rightly brought out some important questions.
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Thank you so much for reblogging my story. Always appreciate the gesture
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Very touching story. Thank you.
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Thank you so much Marthae. Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation.
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Shocking, encouraging. Vibrates with love for life, love for the “common man“. Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as a common man, each man fulfils his destiny, each human being has its place. So, yours is an unsatiable curiosity for the realities of life.
Your stories are full of reality, but behind that reality lie the vast regions of an even fuller world, of the spiritual world, and the moral world. Your words are wonderfully hard, compact, alive. Places are named, rivers, historical sites, you give the names of tribes, of regions, of historical events. And all these words, often strange words, form a dense web, inviting the reader: jump, have great adventures. Your words are strong, sometimes strange. Simple, sometimes startling. Well-known, sometimes unheard-of. Each story invites the reader into a new world.
Human beings have their lives, the universe is full of stories, a few strong and poignant words must suffice to chisel the outlines. Life is cruel, august, incredible, pitiless, heroes are everywhere, because every life brims over with meaning. People, quite common people fulfil their task, duly, and all of a sudden they are heroes. Or, they are a dark vision of evil, that‘s also their task. Behind, there is that vast realm of the moral universe, and it says: whatever happens, it happens for a reason. Everyone, anyone, even the villain, must be true to his destiny, that‘s the way the world runs.
There is a strong and genuine Indian trait in your story-telling, I see that almost with a sort of awe. To some degree, you are in the tradition of the great Puranic and Epic lore. Man has to fulfil his destiny, and anyway, he cannot escape his destiny, so he has to fulfil it.
So any single life is great, heroic, sometimes terrible, demoniac. And all forms part of that unfathomable stream of reality. Dear Trishikh, what an experience to read your stories!
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Dear Verlag,
Your thoughtful comment is not only one of the best compliments that I have ever received on my story writing but is perhaps the best analysis of my thought, process, and writing style. It took me a little time to answer this comment of your, as it was so rich in inputs, hence the slight delay in response.
As you have rightly spotted out moral teaching, reality, history, and geography punched in the mix of fiction is my style. My humble effort is to create a morally enriching experience, while stating the realities of life, which you have so vividly described in your eloquent words. Human being are a mix of good and evil, both exists within us, and how we feed our inner angels and demons, builds our being.
Do visit again and read more of my other stories. I look forward to your like and comments. They help me much to find so much more about my own writing.
With kind regards,
Trishikh
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Dear Trishikh, simply call me Peter, please. And of course I will read your stories. But I intend to read them carefully, word for word, you deserve this. You are a real poet, each of your words is in its right place. Obviously you have that rare feeling for the middle between “not enough yet” and “too much already”. Somehow you remind me of a sculptor: there is a raw block, and you carve the stone till all the superfluous parts are away, and the figure appears. As a result, your prose has cristal-clear outlines and edges, sometimes so sharp, they feel as if they would cut. Great work. I’ll stay in touch, of course I shall do. Yours with admiration, Peter (and excuse my poor English, please, I am from Germany, English is not my native language)
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Dear Peter, seldom in life do we find with a similar bent of mind. I am fortunate to have been able to make your acquaintance. Your words gives me so much joy, it’s beyond my comprehension to perhaps aptly reciprocate. I shall do my best to bring forth these stories for the world to cherish.
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A wonderful story about courage in adversity! I had no idea about illegal sand mining. But people mine a lot of other things illegally, so why not sand. Greed is the worst and is hard to get rid of. I understand that this boy will be a hero for many generations to come.
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Dear Stella, reading your comment at the start of the day gives me great joy. I am happy to have been able to enlighten you about illegal sand mining. Yes it is a huge global problem, which effects all of us, and about which most of us know very little. We need heros like Bali, everywhere in human society to stand up against the oppression of evil.
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A very inspiring story! I agree; the world needs more heroes like Bali! I also did not know anything about sand mining. Yet another way humans are destroying the planet.
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You are right, the world needs heroes like Bali to stand up against injustice. Yes, sand mining is one of the ways in which we are destroying mother earth. Thanks for your comment and like. Really appreciate your support.
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Now that the floods have subsided and the Internet has been restored, I again can engage with the blogger’s tribal pleasures.
I begin to recognise, you are not only recording the rise and tribulation of the Indian nation into the twenty-first century while using the appealing form of romantic narratives but also maintaining a strong line of social justice and criticism on the establishment.
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Oh, that is why I did not receive your beautiful comments on few of my last stories. Sad to hear about the flood. Hope normalcy has restored.
Thank you so much for your lovely comment. It always gives me so much joy. I am doing my little bit to share the stories of my land with the world. With best wishes and encouragement from dedicated friends like you and the blessings of the Almighty, I hope to leave behind my literary mard on the sands of time.
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A really heart warming story! Khub sundor! Apnar protyek golpo gulo sotti khub interesting hoi. Dhonnobad Dada!
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Thank you so much for your beautiful words of appreciation. I really treasure them. Am really glad that you find my stories interesting. I try my best.
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Great inspiring story
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Thank you so much Denise. So glad that you liked this little tale of mine, and found it inspirational.
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Glad to get acquainted with this blog. I read two stories and found them very beautiful. See you soon and thank you.
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Thank you so much for visiting and reading two of my stories, liking, and commenting. Really appreciate this. So happy to know that you liked my stories. Do visit again.
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Reblogged this on Título del sitio.
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You honour me greatly by reblogging my story in your blog.
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Very poignantly written. There are so many forms of atrocities unknown to humanity and so many examples of astounding bravery! People like Bali do not even know what immense contribution they made to sustain human civilization from the barbaric extortionists with their puny strength! These are the true heroes though unsung.
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Dear GC, I agree with you that people like Bali are the real-life, everyday, unsung heroes. Humans are capable of the best and the worst. It is unfortunately, how we are made – there are heroes and there are villains. Goodness and good people are sadly lesser than the evil and vile.
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The imagery in this story was/is quite exciting, well done..
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Thank you so much William. Really happy that you liked the imagery.
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Reblogged this on LAWET and commented:
If you read this article, you can feel the smell of our beautiful land of Bengal.
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Thank you so much for showcasing this story of mine in your blog. This gives me great joy.
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The takeaway:
1. The right use of the sentence to make the character more alive for instance at very early age he knew Creating Violence is his strength.
2. God helps those who helps themselves. If we don’t fight…
3. What makes you think? The answer just because our ancestors has not fought it does not mean we should not fight.
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You are bang on with the analysis. You have correctly captured the three points. Thank you for always being so appreciative of my stories. Am about to publish my latest story in the next few minutes. Do visit and read it when you have time.
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A tale of endurance and perseverance against what we have no control over.
Very powerful Trishikh. I’m reblogging this.
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Certainly Emmanuel, it’s always a pleasure to see you reblog my stories. So glad that you find this story powerful.
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Thank you so much for liking and promoting this story of mine. It really makes my day when someone highlights one of my stories in their personal site. What an honour to have.
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Trishikh, your stories contain a lot of wisdom. It’s always great reading them. I’ll be happy to share this one. It learns us something about endurance in case of impossible odds.
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Your kind words of appreciation brings great honour to me. I treasure them and look forward to see my story highlighted in your blog.
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Reblogged this on Daily poetry and commented:
Great story about not giving up.
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Really appreciate you promoting my story in your blog. Now so many more people will be able to read my tale.
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Thank you so much for liking and promoting my story.
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