Pradnya Deshmukh ✓

Literary Brigadier

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29Works

Writer by passion

Pitter-patterPradnya Deshmukh · 1 min read · 351 readsSwing by the past...Live in the presentAbstract
Solitude's company...Pradnya Deshmukh · 1 min read · 289 readsThe mind wandered across the horizon... To watch the setting Sun lay in oblivion...Abstract
The Sublime Call - A Connection With The SelfPradnya Deshmukh · 14 min read · 47.3K readsDark clouds were looming over the horizon. The city’s skyline of high-rise skyscrapers was caught in the tight embrace of a thick blanket. The twilight zone was seamlessly taken over by the overcast sky in a mélange befitting an artists’ canvas. A slight drizzle had begun. Small droplets had formed big drippings on the tinted window panes. Seconds ticked by into minutes and minutes into hours. It had been over two hours now that the incessant downpour was pounding havoc on the land. The decibels of the prolonged pitter-patter had become audibly unbearable. A thunderous resonance reverberated through the dusky firmament. An occasional luminous flash of lightning could be sighted in the distance. These forces of Nature only augmented the furore storming her mind. There is an uncanny, ambivalent streak accompanying the rains – the same carriers of merriment for frayed nerves also act as catalysts for nostalgia, of moments lived and loved.Classics