ashok jadhav

My dear love,
Devil in the mind,
Brings evil in the mind,
Because the devil in the mind,
...

When I entered in your minds eyes,
I forgot all my painful worries,
And I remember nothing dear,
And my memories are wiped out,
...

Love is love and love is love,
Whoever in love,
Flies in the sky,
Like that of Eagal,
...

My dear, it takes a time,
To become water of the ice,
As setting sun takes a time to rise again.
...

The past was past,
But the present is mine,
What our dream is star like shine,
The curse was called,
...

My dear, you are crystal clear,
Your mind is crystal clear,
And your soul is also clear.
...

(The speaker stands alone at dusk. A half-packed suitcase lies at his feet. Papers—plans, letters, dreams—are scattered around. He speaks to the silent sky.)
So this was the plan.
This—neatly measured, carefully folded future.
I charted it like a map,
...

Remember the day when we met,
In my beautiful chamber of gate,
There was peace and silence spread,
Door was shut and comfort zone had different thread,
...

Listen o dear,
You peep inward and look inward,
And don't be greedy and don't be coward,
...

(The speaker paces nervously, eyes darting around the room, occasionally whispering to invisible figures. Their tone shifts between urgency, fear, and manic excitement.)
Monologue:
Do you hear them?
Do you hear the whispers in the walls, the shadows that move when no one is there?
...

(The speaker paces or stands in front of a mirror, gesturing at their reflection as if arguing with themselves. Their voice shifts between anger, despair, and pleading.)
Monologue:
Who am I? Tell me!
Because I've looked in every mirror, walked every street,
...

(The speaker stands alone, glancing at their hands, their reflection, their surroundings, as if measuring time itself. Their voice shakes between fear, anger, and despair.)
Monologue:
Do you feel it? That creeping… that quiet, relentless pull?
Time. It slips through your fingers like sand,
...

(The speaker stands in a dimly lit room, eyes fixed on an invisible figure, voice rising and falling with desperation and longing.)
Monologue:
Do you know what it's like… to see someone every day
and feel your heart split in two every time they smile at anyone but you?
...

(The speaker sits alone, hunched forward, hands clasped tightly. Their voice is heavy, sometimes breaking, as if the words themselves hurt.)
Monologue:
I can't undo it.
I can't. No matter how many times I plead with the past,
...

(The speaker stands in a dimly lit room, restless, speaking to themselves or an invisible confidant. Their voice rises and falls with the tide of emotion.)
Monologue:
I can't… I can't stop thinking about it.
The mistake. The moment. The choice that shattered everything.
...

(A dimly lit room. The speaker paces, clutching their head, speaking to an unseen presence—or perhaps to themselves.)
Monologue:
Do you see it? Do you see what I've done?
Every step I took… every word I whispered… it built this prison around me.
...

Sing, O Curtains and Cables, witness the deeds of mortal daring,
Where the Stage, ancient battleground of applause and shadow,
Meets Mike, sacred microphone, glowing with heroic resonance,
And together they confront trials worthy of Olympus itself.
...

Sing, O Curtains, witness to the deeds of mortals,
Where Heroes tread the sacred planks of the Stage,
A realm where light becomes thunder, shadow a cloak of fate,
And applause rises like the roar of Olympus itself.
...

Sing, O Stage, witness to the deeds of mortal sound,
Where Heroes wield the sacred Mike,
A wand of power, a horn of destiny,
Through which even the meek may summon thunder.
...

Sing, O Walls, witness to the deeds of mortals,
Who defend Honor as if Olympus itself depended,
Yet wield swords of absurdity and shields of nonsense,
And elevate trivialities to epic consequence.
...