The other day I was having a casual talk with my daughter. She asked me what I want to be when I grow up. That was a legit question I think, probably the deeper meaning which she didn’t realize was – we should never stop dreaming, desiring, aspiring or being ambitious. Or might be just a counter question to the regular question hovered over them by parents – What do you want to be?
Well whatever the idea was I paused a bit and said ” I want to be a writer but not sure if people will like my work or not. I am skeptical.” And the statement she made after my “hmms & huhs” simply blown me away and made me ponder “does she know what impact and sense she makes with her rather seemingly casual statements. Is it really a child’s play to be mature?”…
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Hi Everyone, (Important Note: This is a fiction because I never encountered such situation but a harsh reality for millions of girls and women). She is a free-spirited girl. Her face is just a reflection of beauty that dwelled in her heart and in her thoughts. Her dreams, racing to reach stars and beyond and […]He never anticipated this
An unintended chuckle escaped Josh’s mouth the moment he heard the grandma saying “it is cursed”. His reaction was met with a cold shoulder and a stoic pose that had an immediate dominos effect on Josh silencing him too.
After few seconds of silence she resumed talking “well I see this generation tosses up everything in air that is out of their comprehension. There are many things in this cosmos that might not fit into your tiny realm of LOGIC but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist”. Her words did restrain Josh from being eloquent about his thoughts via his expressions. He has resolved now to let only his ears do the working. And the grandma continued.
“A house isn’t just a structure of mortar and bricks but a mirror capturing the vibes of emotions parading amidst the walls. And this house is a glass cage, beautiful from outside but…
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When I was in college (graduation 3rd year), I read two books as a part of our syllabus – The Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen. Both are great works. Human relations, follies, expectations, insecurities, vulnerabilities – mainstay of these works. Me being a romantic to the core person was swept off my feet by beautiful portrayal of Elizabeth and Darcy – the protagonists of “Pride & Prejudice”. Elizabeth, a strongly opinionated, free spirited , well read, beautiful and a charismatic girl. Her beauty was not only what was obvious but her refusal to let herself to be treated as doormat added to her aura. Despite of not having grand fortune and unfortunately quite a few annoying pompous characters in her family she never let herself to act or sound vulnerable. Meekness or submission wasn’t her. She represented grace. On the other hand Mr.Darcy…
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Josh left the cafe with his head full – full of disbelief about how his friend got entangled in utter nonsense; with a tug of war engaging within whether to step back or go ahead he reached his office. As he was exchanging pleasantries with his colleagues, one of his friend casually showed an online video about “haunted/cursed buildings” of the history. Many stories woven around those buildings led to their abandonment and not to mention how they featured on the bucket list of many adventure seekers. But what happened to those adventure lovers not revealed. How once a piece of beautiful architecture is now secluded and scary, the roots to be searched in the numerous folk tales, rumours aired, the history and few pair of eyes that witnessed silently a belief being built. “Do you believe in these stories?”one colleague from the group asked the man who was showing…
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** Names are hidden for confidentiality purpose.
As I am writing this my mind is clouded by many doubts and questions to which my heart is seeking an answer. Can self deemed perfection and unpredictability of a person’s nature restrain another person and force to go into a shell?
Its a story of a couple whom I know closely, husband and wife to be precise. Let’s name them X (husband) and Y (wife). X deemed himself to be too perfect. He plans his day meticulously. His life follows a set pattern like that of a flow chart in his office presentations. On the other hand Y was messy and easy going. Going with the flow was her mantra. She tripped, doing mistakes here and there but she never hesitated to reveal herself before him. She tried day in and day out to have a faultless day but never tried to…
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He was a colleague of mine and now a friend, thanks to the messenger services we are still in touch with each other after 12 years of acquaintance. We share common interest for writing. I share my blogs with him and vice versa and so is the case with mutual appreciation and encouragement.
One day during such casual chat about our lives, common hobby, national politics to office politics, weather and current affairs he opened up his heart to me. He was going through a lean patch in his marriage. And the issue that he mentioned was something I never imagined any of my male friend would ever discuss so clearly with me. Even now when I am writing here I am in two minds whether I shall discuss or not but the only thing that prompted me to go ahead with this story is “we all are mature adults”.
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Two days back at the time of dropping my daughter at school I had a brief conversation with her. She demanded extra biscuits and Yakult in her bag. When I asked the reason she said that her friends take all the snacks she takes to the school. She gets to eat from little to none. I told her though sharing is caring but she also must have her lunch. To this, she naively replied “Mom I know that but my friend Shalbi cries a lot and quite loud too. If I don’t give her Yakult she will continue crying and the teacher will punish her and I don’t want anyone to get punished, that’s why I make her drink my portion and anyways I have water with me”. On the same night as I was preparing my kids for sleep, I cuddled a bit with my son and went to…
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Surrounded by melancholy as I sat under the rock of my insecurities I was stuck hard by the lightening of chaos. And I was forced…
As I was forced to leave behind my shattered self and trend a new direction my hands held together the broken pieces of a painful heart and haunting memories.
As I commenced my stroll with moist eyes and parched lips, with every mile I left behind the pain in my heart turned into bodily exhaustion yet prevailed a sense of solace.
As I continued my stride forward the strings of expectations entangled with my flimsy fingers broke apart getting my shoulders ready for new hopes and responsibilities.
As I picked up pace the heat that earlier filtered through my skin burning my very soul now seemed to have transformed into rays envisaging a path of possibilities.
As I fought my way through barriers I faltered…
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Sally was at this moment of time lost yet continued “Josh, I know you would find it insane and call me one but I Sense A Presence in my home. Something seems unworldly, observing me, following me. Some days I get up gasping for breath and sometimes I am covered with bruises all over and some days… I really don’t know how to explain this. There’s a diary that I found in my basement and as I took a plunge into it, I found myself drowning into the world of Mrs.Anne Turner. Every incident she mentioned there found place in my life. And she too had another woman in her life and I have Tracy, though I am not sure yet who is she. It seems like a prophecy. This coincidence, if it is by any chance is blowing my mind. Are you getting what I am trying to say”…
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