Best the comedy room Stories

Suggested Stories

Discover & Read Best Stories about the comedy room. Also Read about the music room, the writing room, fa comedy room, 2 christmas trees in one room, quote the room, fa comedy room camden, the dilworth tasting room, d happy room.

  • Latest Stories
it's a poem of love,one sided love,cheat...
means mixture of feelings...
ye kavita maine apne colg ki ek ladki ko dekhkar likha hu..
jo ki mere colg ki girls common room me dikhi thi..
ye girls common room ek khali chhota sa hall type ka room hai..
so padhiye aur btayiyega ki kaisi likhi hai ye kavita...kavita caption me hai...

वो लड़की girls common room ki,
सपनों में आती है अब,नींदें मेरी चुराती है।
शर्माती है,दुपट्टे से अपना वो चेहरा छिपाती है,
नज़रों से क्या कहे ,क्या सितम वो ढाहती है,
बस ज़िंदा तो रहता हूं, जां लेकर वो जाती है।
वो लड़की girls common room ki....
उसके चेहरे की हंसी,मेरी सांसे रुकी,
मेरी धड़कनों को तेज कर जाती है।
कभी गुजरती है वो जो पास से मेरे,
मेरी नज़रे वहीं थम जाती है।
कैसे बताऊं उसे दिल की ये बातें,
सामने कत्ल ज़ुबां की हो जाती है।
वो लड़की girls common room ki...
सपनों में आती है अब,नींदें मेरी चुराती है।
कुछ न भाता मुझे, अब तो उसके बिना,
उससे दूरी सही नहीं जाती है।
उसका भोलापन,उसकी सादगी प्यारी ,
मुझे उसका दीवाना बनाती है।
बातें करने का मन तो बहुत है मगर,
सामने धड़कने मेरी बढ़ जाती है।
वो लड़की girls common room ki..
जब भी सामने मेरे आ जाती है..।
जब भी रूठे मुझे,कुछ न अच्छा लगे,
अपने साथ मुझे भी रुलाती है।
उसकी हंसी की खातिर,मै कुछ भी करू,
चाहे जा मेरी क्यों न जाती है।
मुझे परवाह नहीं, अब दुनिया की कोई,
मेरी दुनिया वहीं बन जाती है।
वो लड़की girls common room ki..
कभी मुझसे जो हाथ मिलाती है...
छोङू न हाथ,मरते दम तक दू साथ,
पर अफसोस,कई जख्म कुरेद कर जाती है।
संभालता हूं खुद को,हट जाता हूं पीछे,
कुछ यादें जीने नहीं देती है।
डर लगता है अब तो प्यार से मुझे,
उसे देख ये गलती हो जाती है।
उसकी बाते अब मै कैसे कहूं,
मेरी जख्मों पर मरहम लगाती है।
वो लड़की girls common room ki..
मेरे दिल को बहुत लुभाती है।
शर्माती है, दुपट्टे से अपना वो , हाय!!चेहरा छिपाती है,
नज़रों से क्या कहे ,क्या सितम वो ढाहती है,
वो लड़की girls common room ki..
सपनों में मेरे अब आती है,नींदें मेरी चुराती है...2।
- आर्यावर्त वेद प्रकाश।

Vinay Prakash Shastri Akshita Jangid(poetess) Esha Joshi Haimi Kumari Harishita Singh

11 Love
0 Comment

What I'm about to share with you is what happens to man with no interactions, nothing to share, nowhere to go and nothing to do. After such time, the human mind molds to its surroundings to the point where it doesn't even know it's alone anymore. This is a brief yet never ending look on the inside of a desolate life to some but to one man, a carousel of very much unwanted attention.
Steven came into work when the sun was down and left when it was down. He didn't have a front desk man to check in with, no assistants to issue orders to and certainly no passerby to wish him a good day. All he knew was there would be a new body to examine and store, compliments to the delivery people who made the transfer prior to his shift. These bodies had no family, no friends or loved ones to claim them, maybe that's why he felt so intertwined with them.
This morning started like any other, he came into the office well before sunrise and drank his coffee while looking over the new body laying before him. This now dead body belonged to "Harold Stein". Harold was struck by a car while escaping a mental institution not far from the morgue. Steven wondered if he let the car hit him, giving him freedom from the white walled prison that entrapped him. Pondering the case, he knew he would have dove into that car. The dead man's head was split open in the back, requiring Steven to sow it back up, something he had done time to time. Most people did puzzles or excersised, whatever floated their boat to blow steam off, sowing people back together is what relieved Steven's stress. After the last stitch, he layed him on his back and pushed the slab back into the wall and closed the latch, almost sad it was over. Steven went to put another batch of coffee on when he heard a knock from behind him. He was so used to silence, he dropped the coffee pot and watched it shatter to pieces, steaming coffee forming a river leading to where Harold was stowed. Slowly, he turned around and looked around the entire room, giving every place he would hide a chance to reveal a burglar. Then the knock came again and Steven knew exactly the area it was coming from, Harold's new home, the third slab up on the right wall. Even though he knew there was no other staff working he looked behind him real quick before reaching out slowly to the metal coffin. The closer his hand got the louder the knock sounded out while the overhead light started to flicker madly. As soon as he grasped the handle the light stopped flickering and the knocking came to a halt. Steven's heartbeat slowed down, his breath came to a normal pace as he turned around to fetch his coffee. He lifted it up to take a sip and turned around to see Harold the dead corpse standing in his face. The coffee cup made it's descent to the hardwood floor and shattered into pieces as all the lights now started flickering. Steven back pedaled a few steps then turned around and sprinted out the building. It wasn't real, it was just the morgue playing tricks, these sort of facts raced through his mind while he lay there that night, light years from sleep. The following morning he rose and reported to work, the traumatizing event from the previous night well behind him. The parking spot was the same, the coffee set up the same, the noiseless chatter was even the same. One thing was utterly different, Steven knew this when he looked up at the working slab in the middle of the room and saw Harold, out of the wall and back to where he was originally first seen. Perhaps the shift before him brought Harold back out to examine the stitch job Steven had done. The weary eyed mortician sat at the desk and looked for any signs of the prior shift doing this and then heard a faint raspy voice.
Harold: "Getting stocked into the wall like some market meat is getting kinda old Steven."
Shear panic streamed across Steven's face, lips fumbling to form a sentence but failing to do so. He got up slowly and tried to calm his breathing, figuring this was all due to a lack of sleep. Quickly, he jotted down on a piece of paper that he was feeling I'll and sent himself home. In his dreams that night he found himself trapped in the wall, body stuck to the slab. He was pulled out and saw Harold standing over him, scalpel in hand as his eyes glazed over at the split opening in Steven's head. Waking up with a sharp gasp, sweat formed on his forehead, though he felt shaking cold. Drama was never something Steven wanted to be a part of, he knew he had to continue with his work or at least try to. Pulling up to his usual parking spot he noticed the lights were already on, something he usually did himself. Not five seconds went by before he heard that same raspy voice call out to him.
Harold: "Before you slam me back into the wall, just hear me out, please."
Steven gave in to it, he gave into the possibility that this might actually be real.
Steven: "Say what you have to say, I'm listening."
Although he said he was listening he had to convince himself to let the words spill through his ears and let his brain process what it meant.
Harold: "Alright, look Steven. I'm not sure how else to tell you this but the only reason you can see me, and hear me is because you are dead, just like I am."
Steven: "That's nonsense, you're just a figment of my sleepless nights, you are just something my subconscious has put together to give me a scare."
Harold: "Oh how I wish that was true Steve. Have you not ever wondered why you don't see any other staff members? You know that you never once have been in the break room, you have never taken a break besides stopping to make coffee."
Steven: "What do the breaks and the break room have anything to do with this?"
Harold: "Look for yourself, tell me what does that staff list plaque say in that dreadful room?"
Steven stumbled over to the hanging plaque and stripped it off the wall, buckled to the ground and let the picture fall from his grasp, only tears to defend his sudden actions. He was dead. Steven was the man Harold hit on his way out from his prison escape. At that second he disappeared and was sent into a world of nothingness.
The required personell hovered around the coffee and crackers and waited further word in quiet anticipation, for this such thing did not happen often. The building manager came in and set his things down, letting out a long sigh as he looked around the room.
Manager:" Good morning everybody, I just wanted to let you all know we will bringing on another day shift mortician, Gary can't carry the load all on his own. I will be starting the hiri-"
Doug:"What do you mean hire another day shift mortician? We also have Steven, that guy works his ass off, don't take his hours away!"
Manager:"Whose Steven? The only day shift worker is Gary at the moment Doug."
Doug:"Are you mad? His name is right here on the plaque with the rest of us."
Doug picked the plaque up and dropped it after realizing there was no Steven on there, or on any other plaque in the building. A sharp gasp escaped his chest as he backed into the wall behind him, slouching to the floor with his hands on his face. Steven didnt exist on the plaques, the photos in Doug's phone, or in anyones memories. There was no Steven. There never was. Only inside of his co-workers mind. Trapped forever.

44 Love
2 Comment
I am locked in a room ,
And I am scared of the new
I am hearing. 
Some Things are breaking,
 Some things are flying, 
And the voice is increasing. 

I want to stop and shout for help,
 I want to stop the new storm, 
I want to stop the destruction of my room.

I am not used to of this voice, Maybe things in my room are changing.

Is this storm clearing my path,
 Or creating more destruction?
I am locked in a room, And I am scared.

I = My soul
Room = Heart
Storm = Changes coming in life/heart
Sound = A new change

#Life #English #Situations #Heart #Mind #Soul #feelings #Nojoto

Brijesh Maurya Chandan Kumar I'm a student and a music lerner as well... sakshi Tiwari Aradhana Kumari

19 Love
0 Comment

Sab kuchh khatm hue karib,6 mhine ho gye the,aur us din mere college ka aakhri paper tha. Exam over hua,sare students ek-ek krke bahar nikle,mai bhi unke sath. us din mn me ek ajeeb udasi aur becheni dono thi. Exam room se kuchh dur jate hi ,meri friend jo mere sath thi ,usne mujjhse kaha ki use kucch kam hai aur mai uska wahi wait krun. Maine kaha thik hai, aur mai vaha ruk gyi........
Acchank meri najr samne ke colidor ke sbse kone vale classroom pr pri,aur na chahte hue bhi mere pav us trf barrh kuchh vaisa hi tha us room me, bdal gya tha to bs vaqt mere liy.....

Ye vahi room tha,jaha pehli bar unhone mere liy apna pyar kabula tha,unhone pehli bar mujjhe aur maine unhe gle se lagaya tha,unka pehla sparsh mujjhe mehsus hua tha...yaden jaise aankho ke samne jagmaga uthi,aur aankho ko tklif de baithi..
Nam aankho se mai vaha bs khari thi aur soch rhi thi ye kya ho gya,kaise ho gaya???
Tabhi acchank kdmo ki aaht hui,picche murkr dekkha to college guard the.
Puccha unhone,"madam aap yaha akele kya kr rahi hai?room band krne ka smay ho gya hai".
Maine kaha ,kucch nahi bhaiya
Bas mera kuchh kho gya tha,vahi dhundne aayi thi pr mila nahi..
unhone puccha mujjhe,kya khoya hai mai khojne me mdd krun kya???
maine kaha, kabhi-kabhi kuchh khoyi hui chizen kbhi nai milti,aur vaha se chali gyi..
#nojoto_story #short_Story #first_love

12 Love
4 Comment
Why girls are given seperate room during periods?

Myth: They will make everything impure by touching it.

Reality: Seperate room refers to seperate from her husband's room. During periods girls or women's need rest. Having sex will make their body more weak, Therefore it is suggested to live in seperate room.

PERIODS #fewquestionsanswersandtheirmyths

10 Love
0 Comment