Between the Lines

https://youtu.be/dU2ZsEP_PgE?si=L_AbYA7xWH5EFQ0e

  Krithika was cleaning out her late uncle’s study, a room she had avoided since he passed away. While sorting through old books and papers, she found a small, ornate box hidden in the back of a closet. The box was locked, but a rusty key hanging on a hook nearby fit perfectly. Her heart raced as she inserted the key and turned it. The box creaked open to reveal a stack of old letters and a faded photograph of a woman she didn’t recognize. The letters seemed to detail a secret meeting place, but the final one was missing. Curiosity piqued, Krithika read the letters, which mentioned a hidden safe in the basement. The last letter hinted at something valuable and crucial, but the key to the safe was nowhere to be found. The letters implied her uncle had hidden the key somewhere in the house, but didn’t specify where. Krithika scoured the study, finding nothing. Just as she was about to give up, she noticed a loose floorboard under the desk. She pried it up, revealing a hidden compartm...

  It’s dusk, and I wake up in a dark, underground cave—except, it’s not just any cave, it’s the Batcave. But wait, I’m not in Gotham. I’m in  Bangalore . And I’m  Batman  for the day! I step out of bed and look in the mirror. There it is—the iconic black suit, complete with the cape and the Bat-symbol shining on my chest. I’m ready. Time to patrol the streets of Namma Bengaluru. I hop into the Batmobile, which looks surprisingly good zipping through the streets of Koramangala. The traffic is, of course, as chaotic as ever, but with the Batmobile’s tech, I glide past it all effortlessly. Auto rickshaws, scooters, and BMTC buses can’t stop me. I head towards MG Road—word is there’s a gang trying to rob one of the jewelry stores. The Batmobile screeches to a stop. I leap out, cape billowing behind me, and burst into the store. The gang freezes. “Who the hell is this guy?” one of them asks in Kannada. “Nan hesaru Batman,” I say in my best growly voice. The fight begins. ...

 I am from the sound of shattered skies, Where thunder isn’t rain, but sorrowed cries  I am from the streets painted in red, Where once I played, but now I dread. I am from whispers of fear in the night, Where shadows dance in flickering light. I am from the arms that held me tight, Before they were lost, fading from sight. I am from the dreams that vanished too soon, Under the cold gaze of a bloodstained moon. I am from the rubble, the dust and the screams, Trying to piece together broken dreams. I am from hope, though buried and small, A heart still beating amidst it all. I am from love, even in despair, For somewhere, I know peace is still there.

  A handsome summer lady  In a vision I once saw  Her locks grey, her face lowly  Beauty so rich , I’d gamble Thine eyes never saw  And Great emperors never hath 

His gentlewoman’s grace he counts on. The long halt hath his heart torn. Many a visions ‘bout blue-sky wishes,  When expressed her keen face blushes. She writes to him to wait no more. Disguising her father to come see him for. A gentle tender girl aid their huddle, Thus hazarding her life for the couple. Brimming was his heart with joyous desire. Thereupon shattered heart to unite inspire. Why shouldst she live like a caged bird? For true love deserves freedom’s word. Finally upon meeting with his sunshine. Mellow hands and hearts thus intertwine. Worthy a moment they spent for a while, Returning home as his face had a smile.