Articles & Short Stories by Shobana

IT RAINED THAT DAY Where I come from, the rain either poured or danced under rays of sunlight. Rainy days crept up on me in silent acceptance of the ways of nature. They resemble the ire of human nature or the gentle reflection of beauty amidst tempest. Light streamed from the rooftop of an opposite building into my hotel room. The stretched beams bounced off the adjacent walls to project a smoky ambiance to the dull, now partially brightened room.  I thought about how the lights shifted the drudgery of darkness to create an almost magical illusion for the naked eye. A look at the clock on the wall said it was 4.30 AM. I had roused earlier than usual. I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. A glance at the mirror on the way reflected the tired eyes of a weary traveler. I rubbed my eyes, willing the redness to go away. It had been a long forty-eight-hour flight the previous day. The short transit hours during the journey didn't help, so it felt like I traveled the whole way- no

May 13, 2021 I am a Malaysian. When we were growing up, integration between the different races was an integral part of our lessons taught in schools, and the environment we lived in was one of mixed racial composition. However, I know what it means to be dominated by races proclaiming superiority and rights over others. Because that is what it is. When there is a racial divide, it is often one race pitting over another. For the most part, it is due to an innate misconstrued dislike for color, race, or religious beliefs. Where do these feelings take root from? Pe o ple immersed with discriminative thoughts are in many ways persecuted themselves by those very kinds of reasoning. They cannot suppress their dislike and resort to hazardous measures and remain the injurious party both in mind and action. They drown themselves in a complex far worse than the discriminated. They drown themselves in what is known as the “insufferable complex.” I have always wondered why the race of a person is

https://enchantedconversationmag.blogspot.com/2019/08/into-realms-of-summers-dream-by-shobana.html INTO THE REALMS OF A SUMMER'S DREAM by Shobana Gomes on  August 04, 2019 It is the night of a summer's dream, rousing the ones who dare sleep to a kindling awareness... This night is unlike any other nights. The hand of mysticism is emblazoned across the universe. A wild call of the night wolf coincides with a comet that blazes its fiery breath, lighting the darkness in a streak of reddish-white, stimulating the sky to its awareness. It was a night of dreamless slumber. A night for shadows, the night when a woman’s song filters through the quiet winds that carry moments of nostalgia to a distant mortal. The quiet of her figure draped in blood colors, sprinkled with silver dust, walks nimbly, barefoot across the meadow, which stays invisible in its greenish attire.  For the only light that passed the sky that night, was the one stolen of a comet, rush

This picture, colorful as it is, says quite a bit to me. To assuage the need for desire, fulfillment and satisfaction, the butterflies are drawn to the nectar of the wild flowers. Creatively transforming what an artist would call an inspiration, into a masterpiece. Isn't it beautiful? Well, it is the start of May, the first of its 31 days, and I am still left behind somewhere in the throngs of  March. I guess I would have to move forward as fast as I can to reach the present. A lot has happened in the month of April - catastrophes, terror attacks, people dying, babies born, weddings, new beginnings, an end to relationships, an end to struggles, hope for the future, children graduating, sicknesses, discoveries, and the list goes on. What I am trying to say is that even through the bad times, the good times reveal itself. There's is always the good and the bad, acceptance and moving on is key to overcoming all difficulties. I know it is easier said than done. People

THE RAGING | Chronicle by Shobana Gomes  Shobana Gomes   2019-01-01 The troubled seas spoke of the colossal danger The mighty winds its ally Something had destroyed their quiet There was a raging brewing in the distance Staring out the creaky wooden window of her dilapidated house, which looked like it would fall off its rusty hinges at any given moment, she muttered under her breath,  “Something is not right.”   The sea was in a furious mood, the rising and falling of its torrent waves denoting a hidden danger close at hand. “The winds are angry, and so they howl their fury,”  she exclaimed in hushed tones, warning the mighty sea to stay calm or the winds could destroy its peace. Her weather-beaten fingers lifted up, in a warning. For ninety years, the mysterious seas and the winds in her tiny village were her constant companion. She spoke to the spirits that dominated them. She understood their temperament. Many a time they were appeased, pacified by