Category: My memories…..My life….

This is my first attempt in which I’ve written a story with anyone, and it couldn’t be more awesome to write one for the first time with one of the most beautiful and a splendid specimen of a lady I have ever known in my life. So this one’s by Me, Nipath and Nidhi (Follow her blog on ) . Hope you all like it.

Part I

He watched her sleep, stroking her head gently. A strand of her hair kept falling on her face and he patiently brushed it aside every time it fell. Zoe looked like her mother, calm, serene and silent. Satisfied, that his little angel had fallen asleep, kissing her forehead, he got up. Turning around he saw the photo at the bed side that still smiled at him. The pangs of regret of that night still haunted his soul. He wrenched his eyes away from the photo. His heart beat escalated; his forehead became sweaty, the whole night replayed in his head. He headed straight to his study, trying to find solace in the golden brown liquid that lay on his table. He poured himself a stiff one, the ice splashing the golden drops around the glass, when his promise to Zoe of never drinking again, surfaced. He left his glass untouched, and sat down in his chair. The rocking motion drifted him into thoughts as the rains started, outside his home and inside his heart.

“Where are we going Pankaj and where does this highway lead to?”

“There’s a point beyond the hill, a sun kissed spot and a glittering waterfall. I know you’ll love it.”

Saanjh gazed lovingly into the eyes of the man who treasured her, as he took her hand and pressed it into his own.

“I love the way your hand fits so well into mine.” He said, breaking her into a blush.

The Enfield bobbed up the hilly roads, the thump of the machine, drawing irking remarks from nature and its fauna, yet in all this chaos and ruckus, two hearts were at peace, oblivious into their own world.

The scenic beauty of that place, made Pankaj forget the very purpose of bringing her to that place. The air was surrounded by the calls of the mountain pigeons and the imperial sparrows, the water sparkling like blue elixir, the clear sky above them, and the wind doing its bit to make the whole setting perfect. He took her hand and strolled with her to the waterfall, not taking his eyes off her as she looked around her completely mesmerized.

Hand in Hand they stood on the side of the waterfall. Pankaj tried not to show his anticipation and fear in front of Saanjh. He tried to steal his nerves but his eyes gave away. Saanjh turned to him, wrapped her hands around his neck and looked into his eyes.

“Saanjh, I do have something to ask you”, his words barely a whisper, his heart pounding.

“And what would that be Mister?” She knew what was coming, yet she teased him.

The 6 footed man, suddenly turned half his height, kneeling on one knee.

“You have time and again made me happy, your smile brightens my day, and with you I am myself. My day starts with the thought of you and ends with you, you mean everything to me, and you’re my world and everything in it. I feel the very purpose of my life fulfilled when I’m with you and I’m happiest with you. And thus now I wish to make you mine forever.” He took a deep breath, paused, and popped the question. “Will you marry me?” He asked as he pulled out a ring and held it in front of her.

She gazed at him. The jungle behind them fell silent or they had become oblivious to everything around them. A single tear ran down from her eyes, as she nodded his approval. He slipped the ring onto her finger and hugged her, and she broke down in his arms. He parted himself from her, wiped her tears and kissed her forehead and held her close to his chest.

Part II

It may all seem to us that when the love is young, everything feels right. We can do anything, We can fight anyone, we can make it go to any crazy amount to make it all work just to have the person in our lives. We promise, we commit, we make plans, but sometimes..only till the love is young..

The thunder rumbled in the back drop, waking him up from his dream. Sweat had broken on his forehead, and he found himself short of breath. He stood upright, his breathing shallow, and the lump on his throat evident.

He combed her hair and pinned her kerchief, wiping the crumbs of her toast from her mouth. She grinned at him, showcasing a gap in her milk teeth as he picked her up in his arms. She rubbed her nose against his t-shirt and he tickled her for that. She yelped, laughing out loud, her eyes glistening. After all she had her mother’s eyes. The same eyes that drew him to her. The same eyes who delivered the judgment that night.

She played with his stubble infested cheeks, very well aware that her father did not like it one bit. He turned towards her, pretending to get angry and growled at her. She kissed his nose and kissed him on his cheek as he walked her out of the front door and set her down. The bus stood at the gate, trembling, it’s large diesel engine on.

“Bye Daddy”, she waved at him.

“Bye Baby”, he stood there watching her.

She turned her head a little sideways, looking past at him and shouted “Bye Mummy”

He froze, half expecting a reply to her call, but it never came.

He turned to see Saanjh’s photo staring at him from the backdrop, over the mantle, the greeting directed at her. Zoey must have put it there.

He turned to see Zoey leave. Waving from the bus, going away. He too raised his hand as farewell, hoping that she did not notice the single line of tear that had crept from his eyes. His body sagging, at the reminiscence of the past, and he stood, a man who once had it all, only to give it away. But this was his penance after all. That was his redemption.

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test


Dear Females..

Dear Females,

I am done. Finished. Fed up being the good guy. Hearing stories about girls not trusting guys because they cheated, broke their hearts, threatened them or became physical with them. I always hear stories that of girls saying that they just don’t want to be with a guy because of their previous relationships and they are waiting for the good guy and all that. You’re all waiting for your good guy. Your prince in shining armor. All bullshit.

You wouldn’t know a good guy even if one stood in front of you. You look past him infact. “But I always thought we were good friends, nothing more !! And I’m not available emotionally and all”, standard dialogue for every woman when some guy falls for you. Don’t you see if he’s the good guy then or not?? You rather go out with a dickhead who has no idea how to treat a woman and screws you all over, yet you pine for him, worry for him, cry for him..while the other guy.. Your so called “Best Friend” is there by you handing you his napkin. You want men to be chivalrous gents, we are ! just give us a chance to prove it to you. Good guys are there, all around you..and yet all you women wonder where they are..You want good guys?? Know that you’re the ones who make us rare.

I know I’m not going to go down well with many of you..but well who cares..

A good guy..or just another asshole..

I close my eyes and see you,
You smile, like you always do,
You want to speak but words do not come out,
Now I’m left to wonder what that was all about.

I open my eyes to view a room with empty space,
I want to move but time has locked me in a place,
I began to scream the words of the pain I feel,
Then I stop, saying it makes it seem more real,

The hurtful truth cuts me like a knife,
But there’s little I can do with just this one life.
Finally I can walk but slowly I’ll fall down,
My knees will hit the floor so hard but no one will hear a sound,

I’ll question myself how I got here,
Nothing will answer but my fear,
Realizing now I have to face that fact,
I will ask myself how I will react.
Slowly, I’ll start to get up and I’ll look at the sky,
A single tear will fall down my face as I wonder why I cry,

I’ll wonder to myself why I live life this way,
Smiling back, I know I’ll get my answer one day,
Until then I’ll take my little baby steps, hoping for something new,
Having the hope that in the end I’ll finally have a clue.

What makes you strong..someday that same thing breaks you apart..

I never knew I had the courage to do this..Write about something that haunts me..This was a brush with the unknown..Something that made believe not to screw around with the forces of the other world and that some places are not meant to be visited or even remotely tried to be found again..Somethings better lay at peace..Somethings better be..This story involves a few friends..They do not want to be named..They shall not be..They were there with me and this is our secret..So be it..

Youth..The times when life’s carefree and there are no worries..No fear of the future, nothing at all..We were wandering free birds, newly gotten our mean machines, read our bikes and being the youngsters we were, we would head out on Saturday Nights to explore places. In and around the city, roaming like free birds in the name of nightouts we had gone and explored a various number of places..Various eating joints, Various places where we could sit for hours ordering just a cutting cup of tea and laugh and cry without being hushed about and made to leave our table..But we also did discover a haunted place..A place and an experience that still haunt us..will haunt us..Forever..

We rode out into the night..The six of us, three bikes and a night full of adventure waiting for us. We took to the highway, the wind in our hair, the laughter on the road resounding around us and not looking back one bit..I wish we had, Because if we did, we would have made a choice and then it wouldn’t have happened. And I would not have been writing this.

We sped along, getting off the highway on to a road leading somewhere, none of us were afraid, just enjoying the ride in the night and each other’s company. We weren’t looking where we were going and where we were headed..Just following the road.Maybe the company of your friends does you that. Having them around you gives you a sense of uplifting and knowing that having them around you. Maybe that’s why we survived.That’s why we got out of that place..

Like I said we rode off the highway, onto a dusty track, my friend leading the way saying he knew of a place to go and sit around. We followed. We always did. Anyone would do. But what he didn’t say that he’d lost the way..He didn’t say he didn’t know where we were going..And we didn’t question him..

The night and it’s surroundings got better of us, the talks died down, and the howling winds made our arms tug deeper into ourselves. The lights and the civilizations were left far behind as our headlights pierced the pitch black darkness that surrounded and engulfed us. The fears growing when around the path I saw that there were hardly any plantations growing, half cut crops swayed in the breeze, the moonlight glowing upon them.

The figures of a few houses drew up close as we headed to the end of the road. We got off, and at that exact moment, a cry rain through the air, the cry if a cat, somewhere we could not see. My heart skipped a beat and my friends nervously stared at each other. We didn’t what to do for sometime, rooted to the spot. The darkness engulfed us again. The moonlight not helping.

Finally we did get ourselves under control, and regrouped. I looked around, seeing three huts and a single brick house, the only one with a door, and it was shut. One of my friends realized that it was unnaturally quiet for a dwelling place. He was right. There was a pin drop silence except for the rustling of the leaves. We should have left then, but the young blood, the urge that anything can be taken on drove us to go and look inside the houses. Only later did we realize that somethings in this world cannot be taken on. Nor are they meant to be.

We split into groups of two. Four of us headed to the huts and two headed to the brick house. The huts were to the right and the brick house to the left and our bikes behind us. I walked to the hut, peeking around, trying to look inside and trying to figure out what was on the inside, when I realized the hut had no door. I beckoned to my friend and went inside. He was right behind me, and what we say..froze our blood.

Inside the hut, were clothes strewn around, just thrown there, the utensils half overturned and left. It looked as if someone had left the place in a hurry, and in the moonlight I saw a rag doll, looking straight at the door.

I half expected it to get up and walk towards us or offer us a sinister smile but it didn’t. My friend looked around and we both were scared, our heart beats rising and we went out and were headed to our bikes where my other two friends stood, beckoning them to start the bikes and get out of that place. We didn’t notice the other two friends who were at the brick house, and we turned around when one of them let out a cry.

I ran, as fast as I could and say one of them had fallen down, and the other one was trying to get him to stand up and move. I rushed into help, the man on the floor pointing towards something. And then I saw. The red hand print. The human hand print on the half closed door of the house. The red, the blood, still flowing down on the door..Running, still fresh..and all I could do was freeze.

An arm jerked me to my senses and we ran to our bikes and quickly powered them up and sped off. Just drove, nobody talked, still shivering, still reliving the moment. And I looked back as we sped away, and I know I say a black cat, it’s eyes shining and just staring at us.


We went back to our friend’s and just sat there till wee hours in the morning. We’v never talked about it and that certainly brought an end to our late night outings. I did talk to him, the friend who fell down and pointed that hand print out of me. This is what he said had happened.

” You guys went to the huts and I and T were still skeptical about going in. He insisted that we should get a look. I went first, he was behind me. The door was a two door and both had to be shut to be locked. Both of them were open. I swung the right side in and T was behind me. We stepped inside and just then, the left side swung shut, itself. T rushed first opening the door and just stood there, horrified. I ran into him and we both fell, he got up and then I saw that. The hand print. Blood all over, and I swear it was fresh blood, because it was still oozing down from the print. I was stunned and T was trying to get me up. I don’t know what would have happened if we were a little inside but I don’t know how the door was shut by itself”

I don’t know myself how the print was on the outer part of the door, but whatever it was, it was sign.. A sign that somethings in life shouldn’t be messed around with. Mortals are not meant to.

I lay in my bed and think about you
I love you so much I don’t know what to do
I feel your warmness at my side
The pain in the heart moves to my eyes
So far away yet you’re always so near
Maybe You’re the reason I am still here.

I await the times when we can talk
Finally hold hands and walk
To feel you for real, real close to me
The happiest person in the world is what you would make me.

Your eyes shine like a summer’s sun
You smile more brightly than anyone
It stops my world even for a little while
I await the time when my hand is in yours
Maybe to hear you say those 3 little words.

There are still no words I can say to describe
My heart it aches and my eyes they cry
But when we talk my heart flies
Your voice wipes away the tears from my eyes

Even thought you aren’t here
And I miss you so much
I’ll love you forever and ever
I’ll always love you my far-off lady love.

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

Spirits, Ghosts and Evil Beings. We all know about them and speak of them with an impending sense of fear and awe. There are powerful things existing in this world that we are not aware of. Things that roam in the night and it might a fickle of imagination for the human mind or there may be actually something unknown. We always fear what we do not understand..And maybe somethings are not meant to understood or to be screwed around with. They are just meant to be feared and respected. I was a non-believer, until it happened to me. I have never shared this anyone except a few people close to me and I’ve had a few experiences so far. This one nearly got me killed. Maybe I was there at the wrong moment, at the wrong place and at the wrong time..But I lived to tell the tale..

The bus full of happy people returning from the picnic was a joy to watch. There were a few sad faces as this was the last trip that we would be having as we were passing out in a few months. The last three days had been a blast. Good times in fact. Graduation is always fun, and the Students Association Picnics were a treat for us. The ramblings from Udaipur had taken us quite a wee few hours to get home and it was around 2 a.m. that the bus landed at my college. The flurry of goodbyes and good nights and see you tomorrow had happened before I realized that I did not have my vehicle. None of my friends were going in the directions my home was and yet I being the person that I am, refused to let them take trouble on my behalf. I told them I’d find a rickshaw or just walk down to my place. I also didn’t want to call up my dad as I did not want to wake him up from his sleep, knowing that he was a light sleeper. So I slung the bag over my shoulder and started walking. My home was a good 3.5-4 kilometers away from my home and I had planned to find a rickshaw near the bridge that I had to climb to get across. There was a graveyard at the end of the bridge but I was taking my chances.

Walking on I realized how silent and deathly quiet the world was around me, the only solace being that there were people sleeping the pavements of the bridge, yet not a single vehicle or a soul which was awake was around me. I tugged my jacket closer, trying to keep the thoughts of impending doom out of my mind, which is a human tendency to happen when you know you’re alone. And how wrong I was.

The graveyard approached at the side of the road, I cast a nervous eye over it. Nothing stirred..But my heart still raced. I quickened my feet and the sight of a police van on the other side of the road, and I could breathe easy for sometime alteast. They did not stop by me, nor did they even glance in my direction, but I made it through the patch of the road. I headed on towards my home. All alone now. The stretch of road going as far as the eye could see, and now not a single living soul to be seen.

We Indians believe in funny superstitions. We say one should not eat or speak words relating to “Come” or so at crossroads as we believe in the fact that somehow spirits reside in those areas and saying something like that shall invite them with us. Well I passed a major crossroad, near a circle that branched out into four roads. It was again an uneasy feeling as I suddenly remembered that one major accident had taken place at the circle itself which had resulted in a man’s on the spot death, a few months ago around the same time..

Steeling my nerves I turned into the lane that would take me home. My blood ran cold as I suddenly realized that there was not a single lamp post lit on the whole road. Instincts took over, the rush of fear washing over my body, but I had nowhere to go. I could not go back to the circle and take the longer route home. I calmed myself and started walking silently praying.

The street dogs looked up from their midnight scrapping for food and looked up at me. Their presence was uplifting, as there were five of them, standing together huddled. I called out to them, beckoning them with my hand, holding an imaginary piece of morsel in front of them. I suddenly felt my spirits lift for one of them came towards me, wagging it’s tail..And then it happened.

Two of the dogs, whom I had passed and they were behind me let out a growl. A, low and ferocious growl. I turned to see what they were growling at and I saw them, barring their teeth at something behind me. I whipped around to see that there was not a single living soul on the whole breath of the road behind me. I swallowed a lump in my throat, and saw the dog nearest to me was now, growling at me. One of the dogs behind me yelped, and suddenly they all ran. Away from me..And it came.

Firstly, I lost control of my legs. How much ever I tried, I could not move them. It was as if I was paralyzed from the waist down. It was like someone had cemented my feet to the road. The air around me suddenly got chilly. My breathing started getting heavy, it was something was trying to constrict me.The wind got knocked out of me and despite the jacket zipped up to my neck, I felt a constriction on it. It was light, but firm. I was getting a bit delusional, the feeling on my neck growing as if something had my neck in it’s grip.

I’m an atheist. The religion that was given to follow when I came into the world was Jainism. Maybe I’ve never found my god in our Derasars (Temples), and I was/am not a firm believer of God and his ways, but my mother insists that I wear a Red sting with a small bag on top which is known as RakshaPotli..Essentially meaning the sacred thread of protection. And so just to appease my mother, I still wear one to this day.

I was about to pass out, the black out about to happen, when my left hand touched upon my right hand, landing right on the thread. As soon as my hand touched that, I heard a loud scream from behind me, right in my ear and I fell forward, gasping for air. Maybe it was good luck or fate that half falling, half running I made it to a small roadside temple that was at the side of the road. Still delusional, I remember seeing a figure, walking towards me and then vanishing.

For two hours,till the sun rose, I sat there..In front of the temple. Only when the daily activities had started and I was given the creepy looks by the milkman, did I find the courage to get up and walk down home. The night replayed for me all over again and again. I told no one what had happened. Even I was not sure if it happened or not, but when I took off my jacket, there were the marks on my neck. A thumb impression to the right and four fingers to the left.


I do not know what happened or why it happened or who did it. I did not have the courage to go about finding about it. There have been numerous times that I’ve passed through the same road, but never again have I seen the figure or felt the same ever again. It’s not something that I’m proud of to have lived and survived to tell the tale. I have grown a fear of the unknown. My hands are still shaking as I type, but I have survived it. Maybe I shall sleep peacefully tonight as an upper being looks over me, or shall lie awake as a creature from the other world watches me?

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

My Destiny..

Together we may struggle
but without you all I feel is pain.
Sometimes I may seem confused
but there is one thing that will never change.

The feelings I have for you don’t fade or go away.
They continue to grow stronger each day with every day.
Life without you is something I can’t imagine.
From within my soul, it’s you I miss.

I understand this world more than you may know.
I could believe in fate and put up a fight.
Cuz you and I are written.
And it is a truth I’d like to write.

We both have scars,
with memories that can not be erased,
but together we are stronger.
In your hands my heart has been placed.

This is a choice I have made.
I understand the risk I take.
Please hold my heart dear to you.
Careful to never break.

If you do stumble or fall,
please don’t forget to gather all the pieces.
It’s your choice of what to do with them.
My love for you never ceases.

What’s meant to be..Shall always find a way..Always..Whatever we share, means the world to me..We might go through ups and downs..everybody does..but I know that we will make it..They say a man makes his own destiny by his actions..I know my destiny and the destination.. 🙂

For what I need to live with has been given to me by the earth…Why I need to live has been given to me by you..

How we love..

“You’re in love with me… Why ?” She asked.

“Beats the shit out of me…But I am…” was my only reply..

She tightened my grip on my hand. I looked up at her, standing besides me. Her hair swaying, her lips constantly moving, her eyes swaying, surveying the new environment with a sense of awe and fear. I smiled at her. We were best friends since kindergarten and finally in high school. She never left my hand till we reached her class. Hugging me, she turned and walked away. I watched her go, as if waiting for her to stop and look back. She did, and I sheepishly smiled and waved back. My best friend was my love, and I so wanted to tell her that I loved her. Loved her so very much but I was afraid. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid to lose her. Afraid of losing my best friend. My love.

Like a seraph skimming the clouds, as she walked up to the stage to receive her graduation scroll, my heart skipped a beat. I stood up to clap for her. She ran towards me, ecstatic and hugged me, planting a big kiss on my cheek, as she thanked me for being there with her all this time and also for being her best friend. I wanted to correct her but the words never came. Her mirth drowned out my words, What if my words would hurt her ? I was afraid. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid to lose her. Afraid of losing my best friend. My love.

I took her hand and lead her down the aisle, looking up at her. She smiled nervously, making me twitch. They say a woman always looks most beautiful in her bridal dress. I couldn’t have agreed more. Like an angel descending from the sky she moved slowly towards the alter. With each step she took forward, I felt my love walking away. A love which only I had known of. A tear fell from my eye as she uttered ” I Do”. I wanted to tell her that it should have been myself in place of Matthew, but it was a secret which I had to carry with me to my grave. Because I was afraid. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid to lose her. Afraid of losing my best friend. My love.

I stood in front her grave. Crying, uncontrollably. Rain pelted on my face, soaking me in seconds. Tears rolled down my eyes as they lowered the coffin into the ground. Her diary lay open in my hand, open to a page where she had written, ” I don’t know how to tell this to Neil, but I love him so much. I think he loves me too but I’m afraid to ask. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid to lose him. Afraid of losing my best friend. My love. But I hope he knows ”

Too late. Too afraid. But my best friend, my true love was gone..Gone forever..

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

Waking up, looking at you
and knowing the sun is high in the blue-
I realize everything is beautiful.

Feeling you brush across my cheek
brings my morning to its peak-
I realize everything is beautiful.

Sipping my coffee, I look into your eyes
Ones full of life, joy, love and surprise-
I realize everything is beautiful.

Hearing the words slip from your lips
those same which greeted me with a morning kiss-
I realize everything is beautiful.

Love, you don’t know what you do
But every move… makes me more in love with you.
So, Good Morning, Beautiful. You are My Everything.

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

I have found out, over the past several years, that one of the hardest things to do is to be honest with myself. And even writing this out is so difficult…

Nonsense, in fact, is a very difficult thing- it lasts, but a while!!

A fair realization of the incredible degree of diversity I follow, appeals! – For me, it’s all the experiences that I’ve been through, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the laughter and the tears, the friends and the jerks, the black and the white… everything; – Struggling to be restored to the place where it belongs!! I’d like to know more stuff, but probably can’t be bothered to find out.

Important? Yes! Critical? Absolutely. I would go so far as to say that…

Once a man has changed the relationship between himself and his environment, he cannot return to the blissful ignorance he left. Motion, of necessity, involves a change in perspective. Theories, for me, are judged by the coherence they lend to our natural experience and the simplicity with which they do so… For, if you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words.

And all of it is alive with the hideous vitality of things that have organized themselves amid disorganization. I’m a proactive daydreamer, inactive achiever. Trilingual, Metrosexual, Polyphonic- and all of it bottoms up!

My head is in the clouds, but my feet are well grounded. I love to dance. Laughter is definitely the elixir that cures all ills.

And for those who fall in love every Monday, and those who don’t, and those who might – One of the most dangerous things you can ask for when it comes to love, is a warranty card!!

It’s been a long time since I saw the moon…

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

The following story is in no way related to anyone. The scenes, the actions are in no way supported by me or my writings. It’s just a dark side of society that I have wanted to portray, a dark side that we all know exists and yet we fear to acknowledge. I do not blame anyone for their actions; I’m no one to judge. But my stories are only a medium of knocking on someone’s conscience. And again thank you for taking time out and reading my post 🙂


The winds howled that night, the dogs having cowered into any shelter that they could find, whimpering for the storm to end. Rains lashed on the windows, the lightning setting the tone for a fearful night. A tree came crashing down somewhere, the old buildings creaked.

Despite this, the screams and the shouts were distinctively heard over Nature’s chaos. The neighbor’s glued to their windows, trying to make decent assumptions for their tongues tomorrow. The pelting rain made their visibility difficult so they could not see a body in white being thrown out on the road, a figure clutching a small boy to its bosom. Abuses followed from inside the house, as the door slammed shut on her and her son. The rain poured down as her sobbing began, her son trying to wipe the tears off her face, but the tears and the rain just came. The boy confused, clung to her and wept.

A few of them saw what happened, but being the good neighbors they were, they would let their tongues do the talking tomorrow, rather than their actions today.

She sat there as the storm abated as the dawn approached, not moving an inch, the tears forming a iron clad will, her only solace that her son was with her.


Vikram was pacing up and down the corridor, a whirlpool of emotions running through his mind, when he heard the cry. The world around him had fallen into a deathly silence and the cry of a new born filled the area. He looked heaven words, a single tear rolling out of his eye. A tear of joy, a tear of becoming a father. His son had been born. A son who would make him proud with his achievements, a son who would take his name forward , a son who would be there for him in his old age and a son who would light his pyre and send him to the heavens.

An ecstatic Vikram had made a decision even before he looked at his son.

The hand that had grown coarse with handling machines in the mill were now shivering as he held his son for the first time. The boy snuggled, deep in sleep in his father’s arms, the love of the newly born father overflowing.

“This calls for a celebration”, he said as he looked warmly from his son to his wife.

“Celebration?” Pooja asked perplexed.

“Yes, a celebration, a feast, for everyone for my son has been born. My son”

“But, Vikram, where will we get the money for the feast? We have hardly enough money to pay for the hospital expenses”

“I’ll get the money from Dev bhai, you don’t worry”

“NO !, your brother may be a money lender but don’t forget that he threw you out of your ancestral home and made papa sign the deed taking the ancestral house in his name and threw you out of your own house. I don’t want anything to do with him anymore.”

“Pooja, you worry too much, anyways the fault was all mine. I bet he’s forgiven me already.”

She had an impending sense of doom but she kept it within her, knowing her husband had very well had made up his mind already.

The small house was more than decorated for the occasion. The guests poured in. Vikram’s laughter and hospitality enhanced the evening. Even amongst the flurry of people wishing her and praising the health of the boy, Pooja could not help but catch a few glimpses of Vikram as he went around playing the perfect host. The smile on his face was the biggest she had seen, and her only solace was that her life and taken a new meaning and that Vikram was happy.

Little did she know that this smile was the last one she would see on his face.

The celebrations for the arrival of the scion of the family proved to be too hefty. Vikram lost his job due to the factory where he used to work as a supervisor, shut down. The brother came down heavy for his payments and Vishal started to work double shifts as a menial shop floor worker, and contracted tuberculosis. One day his son prodded him to get up, but he never did.


She stared at the house, reminiscing the day it had been so beautifully decorated. A furious rage ran through her wanting to blame the child, but how could she? A mother she was after all. She clutched the child to her bosom, the hair matted to her face, her figure ghostly. She walked off into the rising dawn, the dawn of her life being eclipsed forever.

Picking up the broken pieces of her life, Pooja set out to rebuild it and Mahesh became the center of her world. She worked menial jobs, worked as a maid, a household help to help fulfill her daily needs and to collect enough money to send Mahesh to a school, toiling hard day and night. Dawn to dusk she worked, trying to bring up the boy with her meager income. Yet times would come when she forgave her part of the food for the growing lad, never letting the finances dip in his school fees and expenses.

Yet, the societal pressures on her were a constant worry for Pooja. Boys questioned Mahesh about his father, the neighbors questioned her about her past and the attention she grabbed from the lust filled eyes that followed the widowed mother across the chawal and the lewd comments that were made, when she passed the flesh thirsting wolves, who made no attempt to hide their desires.

The most prominent of the stares came from her landlord, a fat, burly man in his fifties whose eyes never left the young widow, whenever she passed by him, twirling his mustache he tried to strike a conversation whenever he could, a courteous smile or a nod misread, always looking for a chance.

Mahesh grew and so did his expenses and it start occurring that Pooja found herself a few short to make her ends meet. One day she found that she enough money to either pay for Manan’s books or the rent. She chose to spend on the former, hopeful that the landlord would understand and she went to his place to bid a few days’ time.

A single fan whirred as she entered the darkened room, the pot-bellied man, under the fan, a half-finished bottle of country liquor sat on the table besides him. The room stank of alcohol of alcohol and sweat. He half-opened his eyes and saw her angelic in white standing at her door petrified of her surroundings.

Pooja realized that she had come at a wrong time, as the half-naked man got up and drew closer. She mumbled of coming to him later, although the drunken man would hear none of it.

She explained him of her situation and asked for a few more days to pay the rent.

“But some arrangement has to be done?” he sneered.

“I’ll get you your money in three days, please give me some time until then” she pleaded.

He thought over, taking a huge gulp from the bottle, eying her lustily “But then again, even I need something in return from you” and grabbed her arm and pushed her into himself.

She struggled against his grip, her shouts resounding in his empty house. He grabbed her, she bit him hard. He roared in pain, she took the opportunity to free her hand from his grip and landed a weak but effective kick to his crotch. He doubled forward, falling to the floor, trying to get up but the alcohol finally kicking in, she ran leaving him on the floor.

Mahesh would never know why his mother sat in the corner and cried all night. He assumed it to be the rains.


“Stop it Mandy, Don’t do that. Mom might see”, she looked at the man who was gazing her lovingly and trying to tickle her.

“Let her, she’ll have to get used to it anyways, we’r getting married soon anyways”

A throat cleared in the back ground, startling the young couple from their comfort zones. Pooja walked in glaring at the young man, but her eyes softened at the sight of her new to be bride. Mahesh had come back from Bombay after completing his studies and also had brought along Anvesha along with him. They had met in college and had fallen in love and now wanted to marry each other. Pooja had given her consent although Anvesha’s uncle was against her marriage with Mahesh.

The wedding took place with all the glamor that it could take place with and once again Pooja was contented with her life. A sense of pride washed over her as she watched her son enter her home with his bride and the contentment of being able to successfully fulfill the tasks of a mother even thought it took such a struggle, which she made a point to never let it be known to Mahesh about what all she had gone through.

The couple was happy and contented with each other and this had Pooja at ease. Allthough there were somethings she would have rather not had her daughter in law do, but she stayed mum over it. Partly because she did not have the courage to and partly because she blamed it on her generation gap. She did try telling Anvesha a few times, but the wife turned a deaf ear and complained to Mahesh that his mother was hounding her. Tensions ensured between the couple and tempers had flown quite a few times. Mahesh was getting increasing frustrated day by day. Anvesha too would be seen dishing her anger at everything possible. Pooja tried talking to her daughter in law but she was in no mood to set things right.

Pooja thought it was better to stay out and stop interfering in the couple’s life. Months passes and soon Anvesha bore the family its newest member, Siddharth, who quickly became his grand mother’s only passion. Her whole days went taking care of the new-born and trying to usher the boy with all the love humanly possible.

Anvesha became worried of the influence that the old lady would have on her son and thus started keeping Siddharth away from his grand mother.

“Mahesh, It’s high time we think of moving to our own house.”, she said as she patted Siddharth asleep.

“But Anvesha, this is our own house. Our own home”

“It might be yours, but not mine. For me it’s the old woman’s house and nothing more. I cannot let my son grow up being in influence of the old woman”

“Mind your language Anvesha, that old woman is my mother and your mother in law. Don’t you dare speak such about her”, he exploded.

“Fine then Mahesh, it’s your choice then. Either you can have the house and your mother or you can have me and our son. I’ll be going to my Uncle’s place in two days. You have to decide till them”, came the ultimatum.

The son and the husband were at a clash. Mahesh knew that Anvesha had already made a decision and would go through with it, how much ever he tried. but there was no way he could leave his mother.

What the young couple did not notice was that Pooja was already standing outside the door, and had overheard the conversation. She too had made a resolute decision. She thought it was best to leave her son to live his own life in his own terms rather than be a part of it and it was after all for her’s son’s happiness.


The train rolled into the platform. The early morning breeze waving over the place. The cool atmosphere of the hills brewing over the misty morning. Mahesh got out first with the two bags, Pooja behind him. They hadn’t spoken a word since they had boarded the train. The walk and the drive to the Ashram was marred by the same unruly silence between them.

The attendant came and took the bags to Pooja’s room. The other elderly people looked on at the new entrant and the son as if probing them with their eyes. Mahesh had his eyes on the paper work to be filled, although he could feel the eyes boring into him. He did wonder as to what was the reason during the entire journey he could not look into the eyes of his mother. It was her decision to come to this place and spend her days away from them. Still what was the reason that he could not look her nor any other person in the room in the eye. He tried to get the best one that he could for his mother.

Their meeting was short and curt. The customary touch of the feet, a mother’s concern for her boy and his family, a son’s necessary words of calling him if she needed anything, and he was gone. A single tear left her eye as he made his way to the gate. Not looking back once.

Mahesh took his window seat on the train and fell into deep thoughts. The rustling of a news paper jerked him from his thoughts and he found himself sitting in front a white bearded man clad with a khadi jacket and press card around his neck.

“Hello, My name’s Ashok. I’m a reporter with the Times of Hindustan.”

“Mahesh, working with Mahindra.Ltd.”

“so what brings you to Shimla, all alone ?”

“Work”, came the curt reply from a man who wanted to keep to himself.

“Ah I came down here for work too. You see I’m doing a report on the Old Age Homes in and around the area”

“Old Age homes ?”

“Oh yes, they have come up aplenty in these few years. It’s like a trend these days it seems. But many of them are very badly maintained. They may charge you but they do nothing for the inmates there. Dirty rooms which no one cleans, mattresses filled with bed bugs and so on. No personal hygiene maintained. The food there is shabbily prepared and the quality of the same is worse. There are no in doctors even. The aged inmates have to work on their own..

His voice trailed off as Mahesh’s mind went back to his mother and to the hell he had pushed her into. He wanted to get off the train but Anvesha’s threat did not make him move. A tear gleamed on his face, as the son within him died that day.


I’m no one to judge anyone. These are just my views on the society that I see today and my stories are based on such true life incidences that happen.

We do hear a lot of cases of female feticide and parents being thrown into Old Age homes. I’m not saying that Boys are bad and Girls are good. It’s left to your own personal choice. I’m just asking you make the right choice. If Mahesh had been a girl then the story might have been completely different. Might have been. I dunno. But the fact that wanting a boy and not a girl is itself degradory. If your mother would have been killed in the womb, you would have never been born.

I know it’s difficult for a husband to survive with the son inside but it has to be done. I have seen men take responsibility of their entire families and still they are the happiest. This is my bit to stop the Mahesh inside all of us. Hopefully.

Protected by Copyscape Online Plagiarism Test

Things are not always what they look like. ..

In a perfect world, the truth would probably pop out like babies from a mother’s womb, but the manifestation of the truth is a learning in itself. Like astronomy. Many fingers would point in accusation to the fears inside one’s head, and sometimes heart, which leads to such manifestations

In simpler words, people lie because they are afraid of what the truth might do to them :\

The irony of the matter is, no matter how much one goes about proclaiming truth to the world and advocating against lies and liars alike, we all lie. To one another, to ourselves. Lying to one another is of course reprimanded socially, but what I am more interested in is how we lie to ourselves

It may be harmless, like thinking to oneself something like “You can do it” when trying to achieve a seemingly impossible feat. Or it can be uplifting, like “You’re such a good-looker!” and the mirror almost cracks! It can be depressing, it can be romantic – it can be almost every emotion we want it to be. Why? Because we, as a species capable of emotions, want to experience emotions even when the environment does not produce that particular emotion by itself. At least that’s what I think

The reason I write all this insane gibberish is because I experienced emotions recently which have made me to stop lying to myself. Where I stand with a clear mind on what, who or how I am and it makes me reflect on what I used to tell myself. What I used to lie to myself about.

No more… 🙂

Love Actually…..

There was a time in my life, actually this was pretty recent, that I hated my life…

I even wanted to die….Slash my wrist and bleed to death…

My world was shattered…That no matter how many tears I cried,  there was no one to put that loving hand on my shoulder to reassure me that my world was safe….so confused…clueless on what to do….Every morning I would wake up cursing my life and asking the Lord why didn’t I die in my sleep….

I was so weak then…. A terrible mess….

Sometimes a single “No” can bear consequences that can cause the human mind to think and do things that it would normally be capable of…Because she did love me…..The only one whom, I thought, cares…..She who had become my world….

Then, she was everything to me….She would listen and inspire my stories, guide me in my problems…But then sometimes in life it’s not your or her fault that things don’t work out…Ego clashes….Temper’s flaring…and a whole lot of maniacal shit that was to be sorted out was left unsorted and unconfined. My health deteriorated around this time….But even then i was till optimistic about it…The world lives on hope…Hope was my nostrum….So when the time came, in that one stormy night when I though everything was going to be fine, that I had to be told the truth, I was totally absolutely crashed….

And then that was the start of my own storm….Countless sleepless nights….Endless tears wetting my pillow…I was in much despair that even the smallest bad thing that could happen to me turns into a giant holocaust of emotional breakdown…

But what made everything feel like hell was that she stayed right there….right there like any good friend willing to spend hours consoling a friend…

Just remembering the past makes me remember how painful everything was…


even i’m confused what to do…it feels so good to talk to her back again….but then there’s a nagging feeling that if she’s never gonna be mine why am i even trying ??


dnt wry abt the future abt whether sj\he will b urs o nt l*r..leave it 2 the future..dude i dnt knw wat ur scene was bt ya i cn tel u jus tat..if u feel tat u wana b with her nw b wit her..yaar age ka kisi ko kuch ghanta pata hai..

But then life gets you….it does….

Everything lasted for months, but then it was eternity…

I’m just happy that I’m back on my feet right now…. though I can’t say I’m perfectly well….but then how I feel right now is tons better that what i felt back then…

So as of now, come what may, i’ll learn to love my life, my family and friends. Love will always be there, but why hope for something that’s not yet here when you can treasure what you have right now….


The past many months of my life have been the best ones I’ve ever had in my life. After a series of unending contretemps, my life entered an entirely new stage. I started realizing the meaning of the word happiness. Many individual lows later, I struck jackpot of contentment – it all started with a decent CAT Score, which set off a spree of revelry. There was nothing to celebrate about, really as despite the score, no B School had called me, mainly because the score caught me a shocker and that I hadn’t applied anywhere. Yet, it was a huge personal morale boost and I virtually had a ball with my buddies. Of course, I ended up being a lot poor (bankrupt, actually). But yet, the lightness of the empty purse brought a smile onto my face, for the first time. 

Before I deviate further, let me get on to my point – the prime reason behind my happiness ain’t the CAT score and the ensued happiness. It’s nothing far-fetched, so to speak. I was just too happy about college life getting over and me moving to some hopeful greener pastures.

Aghast as it might seem at the outset, I was EXHILARATED at the thought of moving out of the ‘comfort’ (ahem) of my ‘wonderful college’, into the portals of this big bad world. To fight it out with the rest of ‘em 6 billion human beings 😛 . To even die fighting!! Let me make it crystal clear for you, every moment I spent in this super-awesome college of mine was exhaustingly-crappy. I was stomped upon, berated, and pinned onto the wall in every way possible, during my life in that weak excuse of an educational institution. All I’ve left is a few buddies – some endearing people, whom I adore who are exactly my “best friends”…

The first sight was app(e)al(l)ing, the ‘HUGE” buildings, the friendly, super-awesome teachers, the mind-blowingly endearing staff (apologies for the hyperbole, but I’m truly short of words here, if you know what I mean. Then on, there was no looking back. Life was a cycle – from bad to worse and a vice versa. . It’s been so, for the past 3 years and I’ve had every screw up an 18-21 year old could’ve gone through.

In an optimistic manner of speaking, it was all for good. I learned a LOT. I learned how tough life is with back papers. I had to accept serious insults to my intelligence. I had to live with crap being hurled on to me on a daily basis. I saw bitching, up close and personal. I learned how life would be in shambles once you choose to be different. I learned how being original and creative is WRONG! I learned the value of mugging. I learned how bits of paper save lives in exam halls. I learned every lesson about unrequited love – about how it feels to be in love with a classmate for over three long years and not mentioning it to her – being so sure that she’d reject me; (still haven’t done that and don’t intend to either). Worse of them all – I learned how closing my eyes to the piled up shit would dig my grave deeper. Now that it is over, and I’m elated that I’m finally getting an opportunity to let go of everything and move on.

Looking back, I’m clearly worse-off than what I was, when I started. Of course, I did gain a lot, other than valuable experiential lessons. A course in management brought out the creative in me. Had I studied elsewhere, the budding creative in me would’ve been stillborn. But the technology ‘education’, if I may call it so undeservedly, killed the manager in me – and today, I’m a full-blown creative. And I’m happy about it !!

Doesn’t mean I’d miss college – I’d miss the buddies, I’d miss the occasional good times, I’ll miss the random moment of fun. I’d even miss being in unrequited love, don’t think I’ll see her, although I wish I did…. – she’ll evidently soon be departing for greener pastures, while I’m stuck in good ol’ desert. 😉 />

On that note, I bid adieu to three years of college life…..Three beautiful years……