Will Spring Bloom Again?

By Gyati T M Ampi

A difficult relationship. J. James. Butterfly Group-sisterly love. A passion. A future.
A small thread that she walks upon.
But she knows it somewhere deep within.
Is she strong enough?

.will spring bloom again for Amelia Meso as she delves upon self discovery, a new beginning as she travels onwith Ane and Aba and her little girl, Eli. A change that will soon befall on her in that same place where everything started for her. A calling

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Apr 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482873283

Gyati T M Ampi

Gyati T. M. Ampi is an amateur writer from Arunachal Pradesh, one of the seven sisters of northeast India. Professionally she is a student, who is pursuing MA English in IGNOU. She finds solace in her writing and aspires to spread a little smile, love and optimism in this mundane world through her work.

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Copyright © 2016 by Gyati T M Ampi.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

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Acknowledgements

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all those who have supported me in this endeavor. I would especially like to thank my Mummy, who always stood by me at all times & gave me the moral boost up whenever I needed. Also, to my Daddy, who kept a watch on me from the heaven above. And of course Aate Aapa, Aata Baby, Aate Omo, Aate Muna & Aate Bicky (my bros & sis), who are always there for me. And my friends (Monica, Mousmi, Anuj, Kenry, Mwnam, Torik & each one of my friend, as list is too long) too, who help me in this insane work of mine.

Monica, thank you darling for being my first reader. You just gave me the hope that I was looking for. Your words are forever with me.

I would now like to thank my ideals, my gurus, Veluswamy Sir & Jaisankar Sir for the constant love & support. Veluswamy Sir, you are my godfather who gave me poetry & the art of writing and I am forever indebted to you. Thank you sir.

And a very special thanks to my book cover designers, Gyamar Nanam (front cover) & Jene Hai (back cover) for making my messy vision come into these perfect masterpieces. I’m forever indebted to you guys. Thank you once again for making it happen in such a short notice.

And last but not the least, I wanna thank Franco, my publishing consultant & Kathy, my publishing associate & the whole team of Partridge Publishing House for guiding me throughout my project. Thank you all.

1

Arunachal’s unusually conventional rain drenched my face completely yet it didn’t bother this time after a long time. With every blow of wind, I only came a little closer to being calm. That smile of mine kept dwindling once in a while, playing its own hide and seeks. The grey for once was silent. I was genuinely happy today. Outside, the world was in a different shade altogether. Spring blooms were creating huge hues of colours and every tree looked no less than a beautiful bride. It was a new beginning with this journey home along with the nature. Once again, nature left me mesmerized by its beauty as we kept racing each other, me moving forward and those different shades of nature running behind.

It was going to be a long journey and a difficult one that too. Way to Ziro from Itanagar has been always that topsy-turvy. So, I leaned back on my seat and let my thoughts drift away. A soft voice kept echoing inside my head. And like every other day, it stung my heart. This time, I let it be. Okay! I tried to let it be. Go home. Yes, I was going home. I shall come around. No, you never did. I closed my eyelid harder and numbed my ears.

Soft moonlight beam flooded the whole room while I lay wide awake on my bed. Thousand things kept running inside my head and it weighed down heart heavily. Time paused. This time, it looked as if things would never be sane again. Yet there was still that tick-tick sound of the clock telling me time is moving on. But I? I was still stuck in the moment.

Eyes bloodshot by now and tears drained up like the rain vanishing after the sunny day. But this sun was scorching and burning everything that it touched. I called out to him with a hush voice and all that answered was