Sin and Salvation


When Lucifer falls from heaven,

And the Fruit is bit in Eden.

When Cain kills brother Abel,

And when God’s voice turns to fable.

When man surrenders to envy,

And anger, greed and proud frenzy.

Thenceforth shall man’s doom be writ,

And the Path of Salvation lit.

Cross the Tunnel towards the light,

The Quest shall end in sweet respite!



12, Grimmauld Place



In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks

And slave heads shall greet you from the rack,

In the Noble House of Black.

For hiding secrets, its walls have a knack,

So be careful when a wooden step creaks.

In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks.


NaNoWriMo Inspiration!

Are you one of those brave writers attempting to write a novel this November?

Hola! You’re doing a great job! (Somebody had to say it

This post is for all you little soldiers of words! I have selected these quotes specifically to help you rejuvenate yourself as you take a much deserved break from the writing or to encourage you to write if you have been procrastinating!

(But, of course, motivation is necessary even for the regular writer! So NaNoWriMo or no, dive into the inspiration that follows! xD )


You are the magic. For you create something out of nothing! You are the god of your own world. Be fearless! Nothing can stop you there.


Your own words are your best guiding light! Nobody can tell you where your character is gonna land up. Apart from you!


Everybody is unique. And so is their story. Never look into your neighbour’s notebook and feel sad about your own! Because their notebook doesn’t have one important thing. You.


This one just speaks for itself, really! ❤



Remember, November is for writing! Don’t look back on the last chapter (or paragraph… or sentence!). Write! You have eons to edit your work!


Listen to your gut. Write what you believe in. Your story is amazing! And so are you… ❤

The Crazy Artist



Aren’t we all guilty of suddenly exclaiming aloud when we find just the right word to turn a sentence into a god-like manifestation of our literary genius?

Or giggling devilishly in public as we write the Plot Twist of all plot twists?

Or cry as we write an emotional scene?

We’ve all been there, done that!

Unless… You haven’t?

In which case, my friend, you haven’t felt your writing properly yet…

And I can only say this to you…

Feel. Embrace. Be crazy.

Be a Writer!


A Champion Dead



Home I brought,

His Champion, dead;

The father’s cries

Still ring in my head;

Cold, grey eyes

Stared up, undead.

A boy of seventeen

Now lay on his eternal bed;

To bring about his end

Had been my stead;

Guiltily, I look at his visage

On his immortal, wooden bed.

A decade old enmity

Had lain my parents dead

And now this innocent boy

Whose father stood with tears unshed;

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wonder,

Why couldn’t it have been me instead?


The Yellow Lady




Oh! Fire…

A dancing flame,





With no beginning

And no end.

An ancient song

She sways to;

Slow, lithe, graceful,

Exuding joy,

Consuming grief –

Her immortal light

An elegant gleam.


Happy Diwali!


Here’s to hoping that this Diwali brings all you bloggers better post ideas and allows your inner writer to shine and sparkle like never before! May you be happy and prosper for many more Diwalis to come! ❤


Spiderman Meets the Weasley Twins

Peter Parker panted under his Spandex suit. Sharp gusts of the cold London air were tearing through his lungs. He looked up at the angry sky from where he stood atop the clock tower.

He did not have much time now.

A fantastically ugly and dangerous mutation had escaped from Oscorp barely 24 hours ago and Peter still couldn’t believe the wild chase the ridiculous thing had given him. If only that little girl hadn’t got stuck on the wings of the cargo plane (even he was incredulous how that one happened) and hadn’t obliged him to deliver her safely back to her mother, he would’ve caught the sucker before it managed to reach the Eurasian landmass.

And yet, here he was, royally exasperated with his life and quite at a loss regarding the whereabouts of the said mutt.

With a quick leap, Peter cut through the air like a bullet, soaring towards the ground while he shot out his spider webs onto the walls of the tower, climbing down gracefully.

A few people stared at him as his feet touch solid ground and he groaned. He could almost envisage the headlines in the newspapers tomorrow, “Spiderman’s Stunt in London.” And he’d have to be back at home before Aunt May could miss him too much. No time for a quick London tour either, as luck would have it.

Deciding he needed a change of clothes, he was just about to look around for a clothes shop or something when a voice called out behind him, making him jump.

“Merlin’s beard!!”

And so the English have arrived, he thought, rolling his eyes. He turned around, fully prepared to find someone opening gaping at him, camera at the ready to click his picture, perhaps even a selfie with him. Instead he saw before him two young boys, probably the same age as himself, big identical grins on their identical faces and their identical hands free of any (identical?) cameras. He sighed inwardly in relief.

“What’s up, boys?” he called out, nodding towards them, hoping they’d direct him to someplace where he could lay his hands on some free clothes.

“Didn’t think you frequented London, mate!” one of them said enthusiastically.

“But you’re welcome all the same!” the other chimed in.

“This is Fred-,” the first one said, pointing to the other.

“And this is George,” Fred said, pointing towards his brother.

“Spiderman,” Peter returned, extending his hand towards the two. They shook hands quite firmly before Peter asked them casually, not expecting an affirmative response, “Seen anything big and hairy on the streets lately?”

“Not really,” Fred said. “Unless by hair, you mean fur.”

“You have?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Just heard on the Wizard’s Wireless,” George replied. “Big rabbit-like monster at Diagon Alley. We were just going to check it out.”

“Yeah, definitely didn’t sound native so figured we might as well try and experiment some of our Dungbombs on him and see if his fur absorbs the smell,” Fred chuckled.

Peter stood with his mouth open, staring the twins, unable to make head or tail of what they said. He shook his head. “Enough with the jokes guys,” he said, turning away from them and starting to walk away as the two placed a friendly hand each on his shoulders and laughing and talking nonsense, led him through London to a funny little inn on a funny little road. They led him through the inn quickly and he was sure that they were two very disturbed people when they tapped the wall at the outside the back of the inn in randomly strategized places.

But when the wall separated and revealed a busy market place to him, he wondered if he himself was going mad.

Right in front of him, however, stood the object of his quest. The white Rabbit Monster was flailing around wildly, its hair flying about and covering his face, through which his vicious fangs glinted dangerously.

Peter tensed at the sight, ready to lung at the creature, heedless of the dozens of people surrounding the monster, waving wooden sticks in front of them that shot out jets of different colored lights at the creature, each jet making it angrier than before.

Quick as lightening, he ran towards the Rabbit Monster, shooting out his webbing from his wrists towards the thing so that its limbs were entangled and useless. It thrashed about as the whole of Diagon Alley looked at Peter, completely spell bound.

“I’ll handle it for you, folks,” Peter shouted confidently as he raised his wrists again. But the Rabbit Monster seemed to absorb the webbing into his white fur, making his fur coat even thicker and shinier.

Okay, so this changes things, he thought, worriedly.

Suddenly, from behind him, small objects made their way towards the monster and before he could get a good look at them, disappeared in a puff of black smoke right at the feet of the Rabbit Monster. He turned around to see the twins saluting at him, wicked grins on their faces.

While the monster was distracted, Peter ran towards it. He shot out his webbing at the monster again, though he knew it wouldn’t hold it off permanently. Landing on the roof of a shop right beside the wild monster that was struggling with the webs, Peter jumped onto the monster’s head, balancing himself expertly on the silky fur and bent down towards its face.

The Rabbit shook its head violently, making him clutch at its fur. Struggling to retain his balance, he still advanced towards its face.

Suddenly, the ground beneath the creature’s feet began to transform into a swamp, stopping the creature in its head-shaking and buying Peter enough time to shoot his webbing at the Rabbit’s eyes, blinding the creature. With its paws arrested in the swamp and darkness behind its eyelids, the creature stopped in its wild thrashing around and grunted loudly and Peter quickly took out the syringe filled with the antidote and injected it into the monster.

“Way to go, Bunny!” Peter cheered as the Rabbit monster began to transform back into a regular sized rabbit.

He jumped down onto swamp-free ground and let his eyes stray towards the twins among the joyous shouts and cheering of the queer folks about. Their usual triumphant grins on their faces, Fred and George nodded at Peter. Peter grinned behind his red and blue mask and nodded in turn.

Spiderman+WickedTwins 1. Bunny Rabbit 0.

New Arshi TS: Forbidden (Coming Soon)

Image Credit:

He was in love with her.

Every time she touched him, his heart danced around with joy.

Whenever she smiled at him, it felt like he was being bathed in the warm sunshine of a bright summer morning…

But he couldn’t have her.

Not in a million years.

Could not even look at her.

For his love was forbidden…

Erised: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

The gleaming stone reflected back at her, dazzling her mystified eyes. She stood in front of the large, curious mirror, completely mesmerized and breathing heavily. Her hands clutched at the sides of her silken robes and she remained perfectly immobile, afraid to stir in the least, lest the wonderful illusion in front of her might break.
For there, atop her black locks carefully wound up in an elegant bun, rested her heart’s desire. Her mother’s diadem suited her well, its sparkle bringing out the grey of her eyes and the deep blue sapphire matching her periwinkle robes to give her slender form an ethereal look. And she could see in her own eyes in the mirror, the peculiar twinkle that she had always seen in her mother’s dark orbs when she knew something that Helena was completely oblivious to. It was the glow of that extraordinary wit and knowledge that Helena had always envied her mother for.
A soft creak of the wooden door behind her startled her out of her reverie and she quickly turned around. At the door stood the Baron who bowed at her quietly before asking her, “What must my lady be doing in here while everyone is out looking for her?”
Helena was a little irritated at the interruption but more so at the perpetrator. She wished he would go away but replied to him politely that she was just admiring the mirror in the room.
The Baron walked a few steps into the room, peering curiously at the object but his step faltered midway as his form appeared in the mirror. His eyes fixed upon Helena’s reflection which had its hand draped around the arm of his own reflection. Her face was turned up towards his and her eyes were fondly gazing at him, a beautiful smile adorning her rosy lips.
His eyes roved from the mirror to Helena’s real form, his mouth hanging open in surprise as he saw her trying to hide her grimace, her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. He swallowed with difficulty and began, “My lady-“ “We must get going now,” Helena curtly interrupted him. “As you said, they are looking for me.” His face fell, his words dying on his lips.
Helena curtsied gracefully at him and quickly walked out of the room, her skirts rustling past him and her eyebrows furrowed together, betraying some unspoken anxiety, some desire unknown to the Baron’s heart.
Looking back at the mirror, trying to understand what he did wrong and what could be the reason for his lady’s perturbation, he sighed wistfully. Helena continued to smile up at him from beside him as he muttered, “This woman is going to be the death of me…”