Deep Ties

  Freepik Here I am at the end of a month of writing on February 29 th , a taxing yet enjoyable exercise which I managed to hang on to by the skin of my teeth. #WriteAPageADay by #Blogchatter challenges writers to write across the month and complete ten thousand words. So, there I was, all set to take the bit between my teeth and canter on, despite dire threats from my better half. “Don’t you already have enough to do in a day without this added complication?” I nodded, mulling over how to work it out. Being in school from 9AM to 4.30PM is a major chunk out of a day, no doubt. I could always do away with my evening walk! Wait a minute… what evening walk? That had already been done away with in my previous challenges. My better half and I both believe in the adage, “Eat well today for tomorrow you diet!” Hence, there are days we gorge, mostly on weekends, and then come back to our senses and our diets the rest of the week. Makes cooking a whole lot easier! Dinner? What could b

                                                                                                       Unsplash Over the decades, words fill our lives, words spoken, words penned and words that stay unspoken within the soul. There is so much of our hearts that go into these words, and stay there in the world, in the form of books, articles, poetry and the like. That is what we writers live for. Spaces form between words, and there are times when words dry up as well. But we need to battle on, even on days when we have nothing to say. When one fine day, those words are taken away, it can be heartbreaking. Even when there are back up files because there are specific moments when these words make all the difference, and when the moments are taken away, the words cease to have the same effect. There are thieves who steal away words for nefarious reasons… to hoodwink the innocent and to make a quick buck. These are the people who hide hearts as back as the night within pristine exterior

  Pinterest “Ma, why the long face?” Simi swooped down on her pensive mother, swinging her around as she used to when she was a teenager. Her mother’s face lit up at the sight of her beloved daughter. “Simoo, when did you get here? Why didn’t you let us know you were coming.” She gave her a bear hug, pausing only to ask, “Where is Akshat? I hope he has come as well.” “Oh, Akshat had a boring conference to attend. He will be here tomorrow,” replied Simi irreverently, grinning at the shocked expression on her mother’s face. “Don’t say such things, you silly girl!” Ma remonstrated, pulling her ear in fun.  “Your husband needs to be respected.” “Of course, I respect him, Ma. However, that does not mean I need to revere him. He is, after all, a human being.” Ma said nothing, but Simi knew she had struck a chord within her heart. She knew how much her mother had had to adjust, being married to a man, not only much older than her, but also a bit on the dour side. If Simi had dev

                                                                                                       Amazon.in  The name ‘Anarkali’ evokes memories of the beauteous Madhubala in ‘Mughal-E-Azam’ twirling around in a hall of mirrors, her reflection being multiplied to the lilting tune of an unforgettable song. Harshali Singh’s latest offering ‘Anarkali’, from the Readomania publishing house, offers us an insight into the background of this magnetic woman who, as the tagline claims, was ‘The Courtesan, the Pawn and the Queen’. The narrative begins with the story of Nadira and her indomitable mother who takes her daughters on a perilous journey through the Khyber Pass to Kabul, “a mother who went through hell to keep her daughters safe.” On one special occasion, Nadira is paraded before the emperor himself, the mighty Akbar, in the hope that he finds her promising enough to be taken under his wing. Once she passes muster, she is determined to prove worthy, absorbing all the attributes

  QuoteFancy What is it that I call work? Or do I label it my passion? Is it the writing I do as I explore words in all their beauty, creating sentences that magically weave themselves into meaningful forms, making my heart swell with joy and fulfilment? Is it the rapport in the classroom that I always seem to have enjoyed, having meaningful conversations with young minds, sharing a joke, and imbibing the sense of drama that makes such a difference to life itself? Is it the sessions that I had with the wonderful ladies who made up one half of the Indian Army, as I learnt wonderful lessons from mentors who made life a pleasure by just being around? Or those illuminating moments when I could, as a mentor myself, give my nuggets of wisdom and receive many more in return? What about yesterday, when I followed a mentor who has always been in my life, my mother, taking in her every move, as she strove to hand over a lifetime of learning and experience to me, expecting me to fill her

My Dad was an Army man. When I was young, I would look at him with my big eyes, dapper in his olive greens. When he swung me up, I saw the world through his eyes. I would scream when he went away, for even then, I knew that he would be away for days. Mom would console me, but I would watch his figure recede, and point after him. Dad was my first knight in shining armour. He taught me to love books, and bought me my first stamp album. When he was posted away from us, we would exchange exotic stamps of myriad countries. Maybe that is where I imbibed my love of history and geography.   He also taught me to collect match labels, and it was amazing the varieties of labels I had, all carefully stuck in an album. He was extremely talented and once I recall him making a post-box for me for a fancy dress contest in school. He slaved over it, covered it with red paper, painted on all the details on it, and put it over my head. Only my face was outside and the whole effect was so authentic th

  Unsplash The psychic gazed at the crystal ball before her. Her eyes were meditative. “Child, you need to break out of your old life and move on. I see a big house filled with emptiness.” Elena clasped her hands together, dreading what was to come next. The psychic did not disappoint her. She peered into the crystal ball, her beautiful face pensive. She lifted her head and continued, “I see a tall man. He is attractive but there is a dark aura about him. He is not what he seems.” Her forehead constricted as she whispered, “You may be in danger.” Elena’s eyes widened in alarm. She had had a few suspicions about Ryan that had kept her up at night. Now this woman seemed to be hinting at danger as well. “Why am I in danger?” she asked in desperation. “The man has fallen out of love with you. He feels that you are an obstacle in his path to success.” She smiled sadly, pausing to look at the pretty girl who sat before her, downcast. “What should I do? I do not want him to le

  Unsplash He glanced at Swati’s perfect face – a face that he had memorised every detail of. The large lustrous eyes, the aquiline nose, the high cheek bones and the delightful dimples that appeared when she smiled, making her appear younger than she was. She looked at him enquiringly. “What’s the matter, Akshay? You are looking at me as if you have never seen me before?” “ I have never seen this side of you before!” The thought struck him like lightning. However, he merely shook his head. “No, love, I love looking at you. You know that, don’t you?” Her smile was dazzling, and his mind went back to those days when he would have died for a smile of hers, when he was head over heels in love with her. For a moment, he was distracted, and his eyes lost their focus. She frowned in bewilderment as she placed a slender hand over his. “Akshay… Akshay, you are in a strange mood today. I have never seen you like this.” He pressed her hand as he tried to get his chaotic thoughts to

  Freepik “Will you please tell her to keep out of our lives? How dare she come between us?” Anu was at the end of her tether. She and Madhav had been happily married till she came along, with her lilting voice and persuasive ways. Now, they could not spend a moment together without her. Madhav gazed at his wife indulgently. “Come on, Anu, just let her be. She is not the kind to cause any friction between us.” Anu snorted. “She is around all the time… she gets on my nerves. I really don’t want her around. We can’t even go for a drive alone without her constant prattle!” “She’s not that bad,” protested Madhav. “She does help us most of the time, doesn’t she?” “She doesn’t stop talking. She thinks that she is the cat’s whiskers. How dare she interrupt us all the time?” She paused, and the frown on her forehead deepened. “I can’t stand the way she speaks, as though she is a walking encyclopaedia. And her pronunciation is all wrong!” Madhav opened the refrigerator and took out

  When she danced it was as if the whole world held its breath, so graceful were her moves, her expressions and the emotions which spilled out of her lustrous eyes. The first time her parents had taken her for a ballet recital, she had watched, wide-eyed, her hands clenched, her heart beating so loudly in time to the music. Before they got home, she had made up her mind. She wanted to be a ballerina, and a world renowned one at that. Her parents were ecstatic. Her mother had also wanted to learn dancing, but she never got the chance to when she was growing up because her father was a diplomat who moved about a great deal. She was determined to see that her dream was realised by her daughter. The classes began and they were gruelling. The little girl suffered aches and pains, her toes were bruised with the routines. However, she pushed herself to extremes and there were nights when she had to put her bleeding feet in hot water to ease her pain. Her mother was amazed at her capacity

  Pinterest The breeze blew, lifting the hair off the nape of my neck as I stood at my balcony, watching the last of the crowd disperse on the street below. Stores had begun closing, shutters half down, as pedestrians made their way to and fro, apparently relieved that another long day was over. It was then that I thought I heard a soft knock at the front door. I turned back, and looked at the clock that was ticking away, unperturbed, in the bedroom. I could just about read the time from the balcony... eleven fifteen. The knock came again, a little louder this time. I peered over the balcony, but there was no one there. My front door was hidden from view, and I had no intention of toppling over the edge for an extra look. Who could it be at that hour? I certainly had no intention of going downstairs to check. Living alone had its advantages, but opening the front door close to midnight was not one of them. The street below was empty apart from a few homeless folk, huddled into di

  Unsplash Get married when the time is just right, Not when your finances are a trifle tight; Not when your parents force you into it, When you’re not interested even a tiny bit.   Get married when your mind says so, Along with your heart, and you’re ready to go! Ready to tie the knot and not stay single, All set to meet your true love, ready to mingle.   Get married when the right person comes through, When you’re all set to say a blushing, “I do!” For life is meant to be lived in peace and joy, To spread your wings, an eternity to enjoy!   Marriage is supposed to be a lifetime tie No matter whether you’re a girl or guy, So, keep it simple and keep it true, And hope to be happy your whole life through! I am participating in the #Blogchatter #WriteAPageADay challenge. 144 words   

  Amazon.in The dedication says it all. “To all the square pegs in round holes! Salut!” Padma, who turned into Paula for a short while in Book 1, is back with all her vivacity and quirkiness in Book 2, so engagingly titled ‘When Paula Bani Wifey’. Author Anupama Jain’s sense of humour shines out from the eye-catching cover itself, so vibrant and yet so telling, as it brings out the dichotomy in the mind of the protagonist. Padma and Varun Raichand, along with their daughter, Sampoorna, form the crux of this entertaining novel. Padma, pushing 40 yet looking 30, is at the crossroads in her life when her nosediving career and her pleasant plumpness are both giving her nightmares. Varun, who loves his wife and daughter to distraction, is the “completely hands-on father. A new-age man, a millennial father” who enjoys spending time with his precious daughter. A sore point with Padma who is “very touchy about her maternal rating” in her daughter’s eyes! Padma’s discontent with her

                                                                                                  Unsplash They sat in front of the television, munching at their cookies, engrossed in the drama on screen. He had retired a month ago from his job as a bank officer. She was working as a guest lecturer at a renowned college, but she too had less than a week to go before she quit as well. Another five days, a grand farewell party with an apt memento, and then she would be home with her spouse with all the time in the world to spend together. Their children had moved out into their own worlds, with families of their own. Two daughters and one son, taking it in turns to come down and visit their parents. “Ma, Papa, now that you are both on the verge of retirement, please come and visit us,” cajoled their son who lived in London. “You have been working all your lives and never had time to have a proper holiday. We will take you to Madame Tussauds and the Tower of London. We can eat fish an