“What do you want to be when you grow up?” seven-year-old Nora asked her mother Kim innocently. ” Kim chuckled as she replied, “I am already a grown-up being, what could I possibly be now? Now hurry up and go to your bed”. She tucked little Nora into her bed and kissed her forehead “goodnight darling!”
On having received such an unenthusiastic response from the mother, Nora clasped and questioned her mother “what you wanted to be as a child, as in what have you dreamt of becoming in your adulthood? My teacher says everyone has a talent and a dream and we can turn our dreams into reality at any time and age. So tell me mom what you wanted to be?” and fixed her gaze filled with amusement and intrigue on her mother.
Kim smiled and sat down by her bedside “Hmm, I always wanted to…
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Staring at the vast stretch of blank sky, I found the same emptiness dwelling deep within me;
Not batting an eyelid as the ambers burnt incessantly, leaving behind smoke engulfing my soul;
The rain drenched me to the extent of rot and the sun parched me to the extent of lifelessness;
No breeze could caress my heart, no rainbow could soothe my sight for there is no pain left either.
Amidst the cacophony of voices defining and defying me, I chose obscurity as my companion for I fear being identified;
As the echoes from the past are still eloquent in my ears, I chose to strangulate my opinions for I no longer wish to be heard;
Eternities passed by me as I longed for the solace of appreciation, I chose to embrace the earth beneath for I no longer seek;
Celebration of ironies and hypocrisies triumphed over acceptance, I chose…
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Just another day, another page from mother-daughter diaries: A few days back I was having a regular “to/before bed” conversation with my daughter, who was as usual raring to go with her canon of questions. From her “Why, Who, What, When, and How” kitty she pulled out a gem that set my mind on a quest for I was unable to provide her with a convincing answer. And before I could answer her, she slept but I couldn’t stop thinking. Introspection ensued. Her question was “What is the most important thing in this world?”
The world is going in a loop – needs once fulfilled are replaced by wants, and once wants are also satiated heart wanders to new avenues to spread its wings, to know, to explore, to get, and the cycle continues. This is how we witnessed advancements in human history, be it territorial expansions of kingdoms or…
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I was a kid when I visited Chennai. I spoke Hindi at home and English at school. The concept of learning more languages wasn’t popular till then. And even if it were, I would have never learned Tamil.
My father had tight business connections with Tamilians and visited Chennai twice a month. I was a Daddy’s Girl through and through, but the thought of learning Tamil out of sheer curiosity never appealed to me.
I have stayed in Chennai for three months, not in one go, but three month-long trips in three consecutive years. The adventures were as colourful and varied as an artist’s colour palette. The first time we stayed in a spatial guest house by the beach. Next to the house lived a rich neighbour in an exquisite bungalow. His name was Mr Kartik Narayanan. I don’t remember if he had a wife or kids, but he knew…
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“Mom I have a doubt,” said my 6 years old daughter. “What’s it dear?” I asked, to be only left stumped by her question. “Why papa loves you when your face is full of spots?”. I am not even exaggerating, those were really her words. I can understand with the kind of exposure kids of this generation have the kind of questions they might ask seem to be too soon, too early, and to be honest too much too. I wanted to give her a reason, perhaps a lecture on what true love (ironically beyond the gamut of reasoning) means but considering her age my explanation would be “Too much” for her to comprehend.
I simply asked, “Don’t you love me with all these blemishes on my face?”. And she didn’t budge as she said “I love you, Mama, you are the best” and she gave me a kiss as…
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It’s a story of the reunion of a man with his daughters. A man had three daughters from whom he got separated. He was leading a miserable life, until one day when the three girls reached his house and asked for shelter, as they were tired of playing. As it was dark outside the man decided to let the three little girls halt in his house.
The darkness was so terrible and threatening. The darkness was an invitation for the robbers to intrude into the boundaries of the house. They slowly started digging the foundation of the house. Their purpose was to crash the house and loot. As the walls trembled in that dark night, so was the man. This is not new to him. All his life he was under constant attack of burglars in the veil of night. He lurked in the darkest corner of the house to…
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Think about the constant smile on your face when you see or read a good light-hearted romance. Imagine the tears that refuse to get restrained in your eyes when you read a heart-wrenching story. Have you ever experienced that extreme anger towards a fictitious character that’s vile and nefarious? I am sure you must have. I sensed that feeling, quite strongly when I read “Pride and Prejudice”. I rooted for the central characters of Elizabeth and Darcy. Be it fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, biography, autobiography, whatever the content is, the impact would be hollow if the readers are unable to feel or connect with the underlying emotions of the characters they are reading about. In my opinion, Emotions form the core of every story. And me in the capacity of a writer love to spell emotions. My sole purpose in writing every single piece of article or a story is to…
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