Enid Blyton,Pets And A Clowder Of Cats

   
                                          My association with animals started a long time back; when I was 10 to be exact. The acquaintance took its inception in the delicate, dust scented pages of Enid Blyton’s ‘Secret Seven’. While the exhilarating adventures of the kid gang insinuated deeper into the avid reader in me, the loyal dog Scamper never failed to amuse me with his charm. The chord that connected me to dogs strengthened a year later or so when a friend introduced Timothy to me, the adorable dog who stole the limelight in the Famous Five series. Harking back, I remember nurturing a heartfelt desire to own a pet as enticing as Timothy, someone to play with, someone to be my partner in crime, someone to keep me company in the dark hours of solitude. 

Maybe God answered a child’s prayer faster than an adult’s, for before I could present the matter to my parents, and before they could reject it hands down, I was presented with a cute little puppy, lost, hungry and panting at my door steps. Being scared to touch it, lest it bit me, I remember putting on my brother’s cricket gloves to scoop the beautiful bundle in my arms to carry it inside to replenish him with food, milk and a cozy abode. I named him Timmy as any dog who could conquer the heart of the little me could be nothing else but Timmy to me. 

 However the inevitable descended on me before long, as he started throwing up tantrums not befitting a 10 year old child’s friend and my parents ,who were already not quite happy with the idea of sheltering a stray dog were left with no choice but to discard him somehow or the other. And that forgettable day, when the sky was inky and crowded with clouds, as if they offered a hand in the crime by shrouding the earth in darkness, my dearest Timmy was packed in a box( with air holes) to be discarded somewhere distant. 

Gloomy days were to follow. Reading a novel turned out to be hardest thing I could conjure myself to do as the shy face of my dog seemed to sprout in each and every page. 

But before long, I forgot all about Timmy. Time heals, truly said. 

Coming back to the present, I can’t help but shout out that I am cuddling a creamy white bundle of treasure while I am writing this account. Confused? Let us turn the reel back a few months to make matters clearer. 

A stray cat stated frequenting my house around six months back. Being drowning deep neck in studies as my exams were nearing she could instill little interest in me then. Nonetheless, to my awe, the house started witnessing an unprecedented event those days. Yes, my parents were her biggest admirers! 

They fed her. They talked to her. They patted her. They made it a point to never forget to buy fish for her while they shopped for kitchen supplies. They called her sweet names. Need I say more, she was the darling of the family! 

She is all grown up now!

Having performed my exams, with loads of time to spare, I started noticing the guest who would wander around in my house, sleep on the ice cold floor as if she owned it and pay me little heed, let alone acknowledge me. The emotions that were once locked away in the dusty crevices of my past resurface a second time, much to my surprise. 

She conquered me in the blip of a second and in no time she was my soft, fluffy, lazy friend. She responds to my voice, sighs when I pat her and rubs her neck against my legs when she misses me. Moreover, she is my pacifier who consoles me in times of worry, to cloak me in a warm blanket of comfort, placing a smile on my lips, however disturbed I am. One look at her and the world seems a better place to harbour. 

Pets would, perhaps, be the most wonderful companion anyone could get!


                                                                      ~~


P.S : I wrote this post two months back. It had been lingering on the draft section. But now I have a reason to put the post across. My cat gave birth to four kittens! Let me tell you, they are a treat to watch!Check out the photos :) 

My pirate- My Jack Sparrow

                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                             

Love And Other Enchantments - The Dream Ship

In one of my previous posts, I had mentioned about a short story anthology, titled Love and other enchantments which has been sailing, albeit along crests and troughs, for a few months now. Two days back we received the design of our book's front cover.The publishers had asked us if we had any particular suggestion regarding the diagrammatic representation of our collection, and we had conveyed the theme that was brewing in our minds. The theme was solely love and its essence, although a bit skewed towards the poignant nature of it, more than the picture of mushiness that most people tend to associate love stories with. And this is owing to the fact that each story in the anthology is soulful, portraying the sheer intensity of the varied shades of love, rather than focussing merely on the exhilarating nature of it. 

Here, take a look at the design and you will know :- 

I would like to thank the publishers- Blue Rose Publishers for being thoughtful enough to listen to us and for having come up with a cover design, which exudes evocativeness as much as subtleness. And it should not be left unsaid the sturdiness of our group - The Fictitious Five, members of which being along with me, Akash Deep, Anuj Kumar, Ishan dafaria and Tanima Kedar, because of which, despite having had conflicting ideas at times, we could dissect each one's opinion to reach a fitting conclusion. 

Having let out a few nuggets about my new venture, I would also like to add that, our dream ship is now on its final lap, gearing for release, which should happen in a couple of weeks. 

Stay with me for more updates :)

                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rivulet

A flash of beauty,

The crack of dawn,

Shimmering sun's ray,

The scent of rain.

A surreal soundtrack

Or a soulful note ;

They take me back

And leave me sour.

I tried my best 

To make you mine;

The fire in me

But,burnt me whole.

I let you go

As someone told

For if only you sought

You were mine.

 Counting tides

I waited days

But no one came

Nor anyone spoke.

Why didn't you notice

That i was gone ?

My screams had echoed 

Through mountain mounds.

Tears rolled down

Formed eddy streams,

Till my rivulet grew

And left you far.

Wasn't he right ?

Who faithfully said;

That things sans reclaim

Were never truly ours to claim.

And that was when
It struck me hard;
That life was such -
So undeniably real!
_______

Unfinished Tale - Short Fiction

Image Source: here 

I sat huddling on my chair, slowly sifting through the delicate white leaves of Ruchita's diary, the only faint sound echoing through the room being the alerting beep of the monitors perched on bedside tables. The elegant cursive letters, with a characteristic oval notation instead of the dots for the i’s, written in jet black ink, allured me more into the mystic tale each passing second. Ruchita was a writer and the prowess of her talent was evident from the tangled manner in which she moulded her sentences, even though the lines spoke of her life story and not of a tale churned out by her creative mind.

For the past one hour I had been drifting on a completely different world, traversing through the intriguing life events of Ruchita and Abhay, narrated through Ruchita’s beautiful words on her diary. She was amusingly garrulous at times and at other times, embarrassingly romantic. Ruchita and Abhay had been married for two months now. However, the journey that concluded on an exhilarating note in them getting married, hadn’t been a smooth joy ride all through. Tumultuous it was when Abhay refused to marry her on grounds of his parent’s disapproval; harrowing it was when Ruchita spent days encaged in her room cursing her unhappy life in between suppressed sobs and liberating wails; miracle it was when Abhay finally returned back to his only love defying his parent’s obstinate demands, to seek refuge in a completely alien city where he and Ruchita could carve a niche out for themselves, without being deterred by both their families.

The final account on the diary, the one that was written by an exuberant Ruchita madly in love with her husband Abhay, ended on 20th November, 2010. Today was the 30th of November, same year and the time was 8p.m.

At the far end of the brightly lit room, i could see the duty nurse, hustling through her duty report which was to be handed over to the person handling the night shift, with the fervour of a school kid ready to prance out at the first toll of the school bell.

Placing the light brown shaded diary softly on the side table, I grabbed the B.P measuring apparatus from its usual position near the head end of the patient. My movement, though mild it was, might have irked her, for Ruchita peeked at me through the narrow slits of her eyes. A smile broke out on her weary face on seeing me, but her eyes eluded me for i could hardly make out her gaze through the multiple cotton bandages fastened around her head and face, drenched in a repulsive shade of pale red. Even as the numbing cold waves from the air conditioner lashed at me, not sparing my overcoat clad body or my glove adorned hands, i could see tiny pearl sweat beads glistening on her bruised forehead.

Her speech which was almost lost the day she and Abhay were rushed to the casualty from the site of their accident on the wee hours of the morning nine days back, was gradually recovering, though she preferred to remain silent most of the times, lest it should cause her to wince out in pain on each movement of her lips.

“ Did you read it?” Ruchita asked me with much difficulty, her speech slurring, while I wrapped the cuff onto her arm.

I replied in affirmative as she continued in broken sentences.

“I never thought that his parents would make it here despite their enmity. How is Abhay today, doctor?"

"He is keeping alive, Ruchita. His parents are with him. And your mother will be here tomorrow morning too. Now i need you to get back to your sleep. You shouldn't be stressing yourself much ", saying that i gestured the duty nurse to administer her the night dose of sedative. She curved her quivering lips while the medicine seeped into her slowly. Before long, surrendering to the drug, Ruchita was sliding back once again to her relaxed sleep, her chest heaving up and down heavily as she sucked in life air with utmost direness.

An uncomfortable dark cloud started looming in the back of my mind, as I watched her serene face glowing in the ever luminescent I.C.U room. I saw her smiling in her sleep, a smile that only a woman in love would be blessed with, even amidst the most trying of circumstances.

No tear clustered in my eyes looking at her heavily tattered body. My eyes had been trained to remain alert, sharp and dry twenty four hours a day, while I was on duty. But i could sense my heart weeping silently for the shriveled fate of this dainty young girl. A part of my disheveled mind cursed fate, not for her debacle, but for the strong effervescing emotions that she nurtured towards Abhay even while she was clutching onto medicines, barely conscious, for her revival.

An inexplicable overplay of peace danced on her face, on the sight of which I felt my conscience weighing down heavily, as the thought of the blatant lie that i had helplessly uttered a few minutes back as the answer to her concerned query gnawed at me, leaving behind a searing pain.

"He is keeping alive, Ruchita".

                                                           **

The Havoc

Image Source : here

Rita watched unblinkingly at the shimmering silver disco ball wavering in the air, her throbbing pulse pounding fervently against her clammy skin.  She gasped every now and then as her heart seemed to be sucked in more and more into the mysterious depths of her insides, weighed down by her distraught thoughts. 

The thumping sound of the sturdy glass being knocked against the pedestal on which she rested her arms snapped her back to the present. The rewarding sight of the amber coloured liquid sifting swiftly inside the glass pacified her, for hadn't been for the liquid, she would have swooned right there in the middle of the exhilarated flock of party goers. Not that anyone would have noticed considering the dwindling level of orientation amongst the youngsters gathered there, still the fact that she had not a person to assist her if such a dire situation arose crippled her. 

In a swift irresistible motion of her hands, she had gulped down the drink which eased through her parched sweltering throat. 

Rita huffed in between her conflicting thoughts. When she accidentally tripped onto him that particular wry night while hustling back to her house, not even a fleeting thought had passed through her mind that he would later be an inevitable part of her love life.

The many enticing nights they had huddled together in his bed sprang to her mind and along with that treasured memory, also strolled towards her his promise that he would never ever part her, come hell or high water. He wasn't lying that much she knew, for she alone possessed that gratifying power to pry behind the mystic veil that cloaked his gaze every time he smiled at her. Or so, she always prided. 

But how unexpectedly things had started changing shades! How bizarre had been the turn of events since he started acquainting with that rusty looking guy from the neighbourhood.

With the gusto with which he was advancing with his nefarious motive, she feared that he would be cornered by the law one day or the other and this daunting thought had been haunting her night and day over the past one week.

' Was i wrong in threatening him to go public on his misdeed? But that was just to bring him around, why don't he get it! ' 

She winced in agony as the hurt expression that loomed on his flushed face, when she disclosed to him that she knew about his unlawful deeds, flashed across her mind. He was tranforming into a queer personality, utterly weighed down by insanity day by day and that was something which she couldn't simply sit back and watch happening. 

Nervously, Rita tapped her fingers against the sides of her glass as a gazillion unbridled apprehensions started pestering her one after the other.

'Maybe if i talk to him once again tomorrow morning, scraping back my disconcerting tone, he would pay heed to my words and abstain from his rapacious deals '

The slight movement of a couple heading to the exit hand in hand, chuckling in between sweet whispers, reminded her that she needed to drive back alone. She couldn't afford to binge and that sensible nugget pulled her back from opting to stretch her meandering at the place into the dark. Mustering the strength to pull herself up from her seat, she walked towards her car parked in the dark, the staggering more owing to the turmoil strutting inside her than due to inebriation. 

The moon was shining the brightest, showering a milky blanket over the surroundings. A light refreshing breeze swished past her, on the cue to which she wrapped herself in her arms, pacified by nature's comforting gesture.

An eerie silence reverberated in the deserted parking lot which made her quiver a bit. All at once, as if to prove her worst fears right, a sense of vertigo blinded her which seemed to over haul her more and more in each passing second. Whether it was due to the overpowering drink or due to the hot rush of hormones seeping  into the kinky recesses of her cacophonous brain, she couldn't conjure a reason that harrowing moment. 

For the very next second, she had slumped to the floor as if in a bolt, a groan escaping her throat.

She watched in bewilderment and disbelief as warm gush of blood spurted out from the nape of her neck, as if in a hurry to escape its caged life inside the strangulating vessels that channelled through her body. Rita felt her soul draining out from her body with each beat of her thready pulse. As the tired shutters of her weary eyes started drooping forever, she felt consoling hands hugging her close in between muffled sobs and apologies. 

His hands which grazed her cheeks a final time, instead of the scent she was so familiar with, now reeked of the unpleasant waft of fresh gunpowder.  

                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~

The Rainbow

Image Source : here

Twiddling her fingers, more on a habit than owing to impatience, Mira reclined back on her favourite spot at the extreme west corner of the park. She shuddered a little as the damp, cold metal surface of the sturdy bench pressed against her shoulder, thrusting a bolt of shiver through her petite body. A mellow pleasing tune had been sprouting inside her since morning and now, when the situation was least appeasing, the song was starting to wriggle free from the constraints of her mind. Repressing the urge to hum out the tune loudly, Mira diverted her thoughts to the lush greenery extending before her in all its splendour. 

Again, more on habit than on irkness, she rolled back the frilled lacy fringes of her sleeve to check the progress of time on her watch - the gleaming silver hands of her watch pointed it to be 5 0 ' clock in the evening . As if to prove the machine right, a cluster of clouds started drifting over her, imparting multiple shades of saffron hues to the sky . 

'This is so beautiful ' - Mira exclaimed as her pupils dilated as if in a trance to imbibe every bit of the mesmerising sight being presented to her by nature.  

Saffron has always been the most preferred colour of her choice. To her, the colour seemed to exude a melange of intense qualities. Any shade of saffron was enigmatic, alluring, boisterous and zestful all at once for her and intentionally or not, she always secured a saffron piece of cloth for the most auspicious of the occasions.

A cold moist breeze swept past her skin softly, taking care not to disturb the serenity lingering around her spot in the park.

Ahead of her, on the supple green meadow, sat a young couple encased in a bubble of their own, oblivious to  the many furtive glances thrown at them from the many corners of the park. The girl, seemingly in her early twenties, was snuffling every now and then, inviting a cascade of deep felt emotions in the form of endearing gestures from the boy, sometimes a graze of his fingers wiping her tears from her flushed red cheeks and at other times a consoling touch on her trembling hand. He seemed absolutely astounded on being indulging in the outwardly experience of confronting and comforting a goddess suffering in agony, something which would melt even the most insensitive of male hearts, at least in the blooming stage of a relation. 

' Life is indeed all about love in its multifarious forms '

 Half way through her thoughts, Mira smiled as she watched the girl lean her head against his shoulder, but the very next moment she was snapped back from her reverie as a lady cuddling a crying baby approached her spot. Mira slided on her seat to offer her space, finding that the lady was almost in tatters trying to pacify the frenzied child. 

' Do you need any help ?' , Mira asked the lady in her controlled voice. 

' Thank you . But its okay, my husband will soon join me. ' , the lady replied smiling, touched by Mira's kindness. 

' Kids are so demanding, isn't ? ' Mira stated while she bend down to pick the baby's cloth that had slipped out from the lady's grasp.  

' Oh yes, they are. In a bitter sweet way. They arrive storming into our lives walloping our minds in every which way possible, but eventually brighten our lives like an enthralling rainbow after the day long menacing drizzle. ' , the lady etched out a metaphor in the blip of a second, which Mira listened to in absolute amusement. 

' Are you a writer ? ' the query blurted itself out from Mira before she could restrain it. 

' Yes, i am. Now that is indeed a surprise, for even my husband never could conjure himself to decipher my metaphorical lines this easily. Oh, still, he is the most wonderful person in the whole world, I would say sans doubt ‘.

Seeing the eager expression on Mira’s face, she continued, though a bit reluctantly.

‘ You know, I used to be one of those secluded women who would cringe at the thought of marriage for fear that my much treasured freedom would be encroached and enslaved. How wrong I was, when I come to think of it now. Every stage of life has its merits and demerits. Somehow or the other, the merits always vanquish the downsides to propel life forward through thick and through thin. You just need to grab on steadfast, trusting your insights for the sight of a rainbow always awaits around the sharpest corner. '

Pausing for a second, the lady continued with much fervour dominating her demeanour. 

 ' Are you married ? If yes, you will surely understand what I am saying ‘, the lady enquired wrapping up her evocative flow of thoughts.

‘No i am not married, but i am definitely starting to understand what you are saying ‘ Mira said as her eyes coyly danced around. 

Noticing the curiousity flickering on the lady's face, Mira thought of explaining herself, but was stopped short by the lady who was staring ahead across the other end of the park.

‘ Look back. Somebody is calling out for you ‘, Mira glanced back promptly on the cue.

A smile broke out on her blushing face as she waved back exultingly at the person who was slowly turning to be the cynosure of her brimming delightful thought bits. 

' He came for me ' Mira told the lady in an exhilirated manner as she stood up to join her fiancee. 

Maybe her mind had retreated to its loquacious mood on seeing her love, for she sure did miss the glint of acknowledgement that shimmered on the lady’s smiling face as she watched Mira walk away in joyous strides. 

                                                     *********

Love Hurts, Love Heals - Book Review

The Title : Love Hurts, Love Heals

Author :  Sundeep Tibrewal

Publication : APK Publishers

Label : Non- Fiction

Price : Rs. 195

ISBN - 13 : 9789381791141

• Pages  : 154
• Year : 2012

The Story In Short :

 Love Hurts, Love Heals is a short yet stirring autobiographical account of the author Sundeep Tibrewal. The story begins with an interesting and absolutely enticing account of the author’s first meeting with his future bride Neha, every single slice of the event unfurling in the traditional Hindu pattern. After having exchanged mutual consents for marriage, Sundeep and Neha embark on their committed journey together, having promised each other to take care of their partner in sickness and in health. In the next few chapters the reader is taken on an imaginary ride through the many incidents of their married life – about Sundeep’s plan to enroll for one year of formal training in MBA at ISB, Hyderabad, how Neha accompanied him to the college campus and her compassionate deeds in company of the spouses gang to teach the caretaker’s kids during their spare time, their return to Kolkata, where they were originally based, at the time of Neha’s pregnancy, about Sundeep’s passion to make it big in entrepreneurship and finally, albeit most importantly about the marvellous time with their angelic daughter Jiya. Like a bolting from thin air, an egregious news shudders the very existence of Sundeep’s life and the later part of the book deals in length and breadth about the inevitable transformation in Sundeep’s life and how he finally came to terms with the unpredictable facet of  life. 

My Take :

The Cover :

The story Love Hurts, Love Heals, basically is a love story and as if to consolidate the goodness and purity of married life, the cover page is glossed with the shade white, exuding serenity and peace. I am not sure whether it was intentional, but after having completed reading the book, I felt that the cover, with the picture of the man and woman holding hands, was designed such that it would highlight the very essence of the story – love and peaceful existence. 

The Story :

The fact that the story is an autobiographical account leaves less space for minute dissections, however I would love to delve deep into the book nonetheless. Take this line on the opening page - 
' It was a very big decision afterall. I thought from the girl's perspective and realised that it would probably be a bigger decision for her since she would have to become a part of a new family ' .  
Doesnt it shout loud about the sensible nature of the protagonist ? Lines like these convince the reader, for they state the otherwise untended truth in its rawness and make him/her trust the author, making the reader feel at home going through the book.

Certain portions like the couple’s trip to Brisbane and Hayman’s Island, the hushed and zestful plans for Neha’s birthday celebration, the birth of their daughter Jiya and the overwhelming emotions engrained into the narration, all these were heart warming, for the author has sketched to life the very basic emotional undercurrents in any persons life. The part where the author describes the heart wrenching event that wrecked the smooth and enviable existence of his family is detailed in a poignant manner and one is sure to be left moved by the author’s mental turmoil. The author also contemplates in depth about the concept of Karma and after lives and about the probable explanations for the imbalanced fate curve of humans. 

The letter to his daughter that the author has knit to the story towards the end, speaks volumes about his love and concern for his daughter. The message that he tries to convey to his daughter is enriched with the lessons that he had amassed in his life time, mostly during the aftermath of the debacle. The revamping of the author’s normal life and the sequence of subtle changes in his routine subsequently, like his diversion towards spirituality and the heightened intense of his family’s care, depicts the resilient nature of humans and consolidates the meaning of the book’s title that ultimately, its love alone that heals the pain caused by its loss.  

The writing is lucid and the author has maintained an appreciable flow till the last page. In the afterword the author speaks about his wife Neha and the intention behind writing this book and the reader is sure to be left applauding the author for his commendable effort for upholding the cause. A fleeting thought on the whirlpool of emotions the author must have gone through while penning down the story brought a pang to my heart. The book serves as an eye opener for the malicious minds existing in our society who vye over trivial matters, for through his book the author proves that love is the sole meaningful expression and that love alone would bring sanctity to our lives. 

Recommended : To all readers who would love to indulge in two hours of evocative read. The admirers of books on subtle emotions of love would especially love this one. 

My Rating :  4 / 5

About The Author : 

Sundeep Tibrewal is an author and digital marketing professional. He completed his MBA from the Indian School Of Business, Hyderabad. He holds a Master of Science in Engineering from Arizona State University, USA. Currently, Sundeep is the Director of NeoBVM. He was the Chief Product Manager at 9.9 Media, managing thir digital ventures, before NeoBVM. He has also conducted 'Positive Thinking' workshops for school students in Kolkata. 

Buy The Book : 

Buy the book online at Indiaplaza.com

Get in touch with the author at Love Hurts Love Heals Facebook Page or on his email lovehurtsloveheals2012@gmail.com. 

P.S : My sincere gratitude to the author Sundeep Tibrewal for having sent me an autographed copy of the book for review. 

P.P.S : The opinions that are part of this review are entirely the reviewer's. This is not a paid review. 

                                                             *****************

Spring Haze - Haiku

Image Source : here

Chime of the temple gong 

Travels through hazy spring maze -

Safety siren . 

Safety siren

Drifts through eerie forest - 

   Parched loner smiles . 

Written for Carpe Diem . Prompt - Onitsura's Spring Haze 

At The Bus Stop

Image Source : here

As was his routine for the past few weeks, he waited for her expectantly at his usual position near the bus stop. ' The month of March has always been the most grueling, ' he concluded, as a drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The scorching rays showered by the ever blazing sun, sans mercy, shrouded a needle sharp blanket over the earth. To add to the inconvenience,  a gush of sultry humid breeze would swish its way past the people at regular intervals of time.

 It was the busiest time of the day - the morning hours when people scurried fast in groups for their work. He registered in amusement that the events that unwound around him daily had an unerringly etched out pattern. The restaurant run by Kalaam, the one at the junction, which flocked the most number of customers, would be the first to signal its functioning. The deafening metallic shriek of the rotten shutter made sure that any one in half a kilometer vicinity were notified of the hotel’s availability, the first thing in the morning without fail. He was aware of this fact, for he was always the first customer to savour a share of food from the hotel.  

The telephone booth run by the raspy voiced man who reeked of alcohol any time of the day opened next. He despised the tone of  nastiness that outweighed that man’s sarcasm, whenever he called out to him and said, " Why do you keep focussing on this junction Raghu ?. I am sure that you are jinxed. My customers are dropping day after day! " .

Raghu coughed out loud as the smoke which was propelled out from the bus which came to a screeching stop at the bus stop choked his nostrils. 

‘ Where is she ? ‘. He felt a whirlpool of emotions somersaulting inside his head.

She was working as a sales girl at the nearby textile shop. That much he knew for once he happened to overhear that detail while she was talking to her friend. Every time she passed by her, his otherwise numb brain cells seemed to be blossoming by the mere fragrance of her scent. Her voice was mellifluous, sounding young and her speech, deeply enriched with the sweetest of notes. The fact that the wild clutter of her glass bangles soothened his ears much more than the innocent chuckle of a baby intrigued him for he was well past his prime in the ledger of age roll.  He never deserved to fall for a girl that divine as her. Yet, she mattered to him the most, he knew. 

His emotional connect with the girl started blooming one fine day when she offered to lend him a hand seeing him in a meddled scenario. Since that day, without fail, she used to pause at him to share a word with him in her usual enigmatic voice. The emotional chord that connected him to her strengthened as this daily routine of her's started intriguing him. Gradually, before he knew, she was everything to him. An affectionate mother, a playful sister, a loving wife, every worthy relation that he was forced to live without. She opened to him an enchanting world of never ending love to quench his parched life – all with those few words sprinkled with compassion.

                                                                        **

Meantime, a few kilometeres from the town, Sita was worried beyond limits. She checked her watch impatiently. “ I am late ! " Sita thought in utter despair.

 Being late for her job was simply something she couldn’t dare to do  , especially when she was offered a salary hike for her flawless service at the textile shop. The last few weeks had been strange. As if the angel finally decided to cocoon her with all sorts of blessings, luck had been approaching her from every untapped crevice of her life. Having tasted the bitter phase of life Sita never expected much from her life. With an ailing mother to look after, she weaved little dreams for herself. Quite unexpectedly now, with her shop offering her a promotion as the one of the heads of the sales section, her future was turning to be rosier, for once in her otherwise thorny life .  The employee whose position she was taking over, was expelled for being up in news for his nefarious deed of trying to trade his one month old baby for a lump some amount of money.  Hard to believe such monsters even existed, Sita had opined on hearing the news. But then, ‘ Truth is stranger than fiction ‘  isnt ?. She remembered recalling a proverb the next moment that she had learnt way back in her school days. Truth was definitely stranger. Miraculous at times, devastating at other times.

Fifteen minutes later, Sita scampered her way though the crowded bus, the travelers yielding away from their uncomfortable, yet unavoidable embraces, and alighted the bus when it paused at her stop. 

                                                                   
                                                                            **
-
-
-
-
To know the rest of the story, keep waiting. An improvised, altered version of this story is going to be part of an anthology!

Guest Article For Glad2bawoman

Image Source : here

" There resided in my home ,  a petite and dainty young girl , who used to be her mother’s darling – the apple of her eye .  The girl was every teeny bit a mother’s wistful dream – obedient , disciplined , soft spoken , academically oriented and well groomed . The mother would embark on a floating cloud of heaven when the little girl came first in her class or when she sat snuggling to her every evening chattering about the day’s events , disclosing to her the many well guarded secrets one by one .  The bright lit sunny evenings were better spent basking in the pleasures of an oil massage , after which the mother would retreat to the kitchen to prepare her daughter’s favourite dishes . So overwhelmed by contentment the mother would become when the little girl brushed the  long wavy charm of her locks , slow and with care , as if her whole wonder world resided in those jet black strands .

Past high school , the girl brought fame and fervour to her family through her exam results and her mother found herself encaged by an enticing bubble of emotional satiety . Unfortunately , the bubble was not to last too long . The girl , now all of 18 ,  commenced her college life , carrying with her a baggage enriched with colourful dreams and hopes for an exciting journey ahead . "

                                                      ~~~~~~

I am not yet married , let alone being a parent . Yet , the thick veneer of arrogance and brashness that used to dominate my college days has started crumbling to dried bits , thanks to the revelations that hit me hard over these years . I have contributed a guest article to the Glad 2 b woman website delving deeper into the topic . To read the rest of the article do visit the Glad2bawoman webpage which can be reached at  My Guest Article . I had to trim the article shorter than i had intended to write . Also minute typos remain hidden at a couple of places . Kindly ignore those and leave behind your valuable comments , which would mean a lot .  

Many thanks to the Glad2bawoman team for having requested this guest article from me :) 

                                                  ***************

Chained

So excited to say that this post won the Gold Batom as part of the Blog-a-Ton 36 Contest ! :) 

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 36; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "and then there were none"

                          

                   The irritating noise of a key scraping against the large metal lock snapped her awake from her sleep . Every shred of her sleep paralysed muscles urged her to drift back to that blissful state one time more . To her surprise , she realised that the nightmare which usually haunted her in her sleep never bothered her last night . It was the slight motion of her friend Rekha folding her shuffled bedspread onto a neat shack , that revived her thoughts back to the present . As if in a trance , Seema , jolted up from her cot and having hurried through her bedspread ,almost scampered herself down the stairs to take a bath . Held firmly in her arms was a saffron coloured saree which she had kept apart yearningly for this day.

Returning back to her room , Seema , brushed back her locks without checking herself on the mirror . Collecting her things , she slowed down her steps and stood silenty facing her friend .  

“  You are brave and you will always be I know “ , Rekha muttered in her breath while they shared a strong friendly hug .

As Seema walked down the corridor , its floor ice cold , she grazed her warm brown eyes over the small charming patch of garden packed with bright yellow blossoms  , now swaying gracefully in the morning breeze . All the peaceful hours in her past two years, she spent nursing these flowers , and looking with admiration at her garden that day , she felt as though her favorite flowers too were bidding her farewell in their own simple way .   

Reaching the office room functioning in the next building , she scribbled her signature on the ledger as instructed .

“ I have never seen you this pleasant Seema . Be smiling the rest of your life too ok “ , the lady at the desk showered her share of blessings too . 

Making sure she had no official procedures left , Seema started walking in small rapid steps to the gate . The loud alarming shrill by which the gate opened used to send a ruffle of emotions inside her . On the contrary , this time , she found herself trying hard to suppress her urge to yank open the gate in all its fervour for she knew that no amount of shrillness can disturb the state of mind she was in this day .

A glint of  joy started playing at the corners of her mouth as she stepped out into the sunny air . Her apprehensive gaze ,  in swift motions started scanning the surrounding .

“ Seema “

She glanced back in the opposite direction and her eyes fell on a familiar figure clad in a plain green cotton saree, a face she had been seeing every month for the past two years .

“ Where is she ? Didn’t you promise me that you would let me see her when I was released from prison ? “

“ Don’t feel sad Seema  . She was not in her right mood it seems . Come , let me take you to her “ .

The journey by car to see her seemed the longest she had travelled in her whole life . As if to sketch to life the cocktail of emotions gurgling inside her depth , the sky started transforming into an inky shade . Fresh drops of rain settled on her cheek to dissolve into a wet stain . It took little effort for her mind to slid back into that black hole of dark memories once again .

Two years back , one rainy day Seema as usual was immersed neck deep in her chores at her house . Worried and dismayed was she pondering on a means to buy text books for her sister for the 12th standard classes commencing the coming week .  Little apprehension , if at all any , fleeted through her mind , when her husband called out her from inside requesting a glass of water . Caught in the middle of chopping down the logs , she had asked her little sister to carry the glass to him . After around half an hour of seeing no sign of her sister , she had rushed inside frantically only to be welcomed by the gory sight of her drunk husband trampling her half naked barely conscious sister  . Before she could encourage a second thought , before she could come back to her normal sense , she had chopped her husband to pieces with her axe  .

Cringing her eyes as the torturing events that followed flashed across her eyes , she sank back on her seat . People did stand by her at the start of the trial , but as the procedure started heading the much feared way her neighbours too started shunning her . And then there were none , not even the law to prove her right .Her relentless pleas that her husband used to assault her as well during their married years fell on deaf years . 

For months she had been bogged down by a drilling question as to whether her killing her husband should have been averted . Didnt her sister's agony deserve justice ? The man would even have strangled her sister to death in his barbarious act if she hadnt stumbled upon them .During those hours of crying softly at night in the darkness of the dingy cell , there wasnt a moment when she hadnt cursed herself for pushing her sister's life down a horrifying abyss . If it wasnt for the kind representatives of a Mahila Mandir who promised to take care of her sister while she was in prison , she would have been left in an even melancholious situation wondering what would become of her sister during her punishment years . 

As the car came to a halt , the lady guided Seema inside the Mahila Mandir to a room at the far end of the corridor . Seema noticed that place housed an alarming number of women who , unfortunately must have ended up being homeless , maybe due to no fault of their own . A girl , around 10 years sat studying at a chair facing the window while another girl , older by a few years was engaged in cleaning small bits of cobwebs from the window pane . The place seemed to throw at her a vibe of peace and contentment. 

Seema focused her gaze on a lady walking slowly towards her from a distance . Looking intently, she realised that the lady wasnt alone . Her wide opened eyes welled up in tears as Seema watched the lady bringing along with her , the one person whom she had been yearning to see for the past one year . Folding her arms, now trembling ,Seema slowly accepted her sister’s baby onto her arms and snuggled her close to her. 

The loss of her sister in child birth one year back had devastated her already shattered life . But now , looking at the months old little bundle , the fruit of her husband's mindless act , resting peacefully in her arms she felt a surge of hope tugging at her heartstrings .  

" I will keep her safe , no matter what . " A determined decision took form in her mind .

 But the very next second , she felt the dark silhouette of a fear over shadowing her hopes while a harrowing thought passed through her mind - 

' I cannot keep her safe , never when this world is cruel . '

The rapturous chuckle of the baby brought her back to the present . She kissed the baby on her cheek and offered a silent prayer to the Almighty . 

                                               ***************************

Image Source :  Here

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 03

Twilight

This post grabbed the WOW Badge as part of the Write Over The Weekend contest conducted by Blogadda .

    
   The bus came to a sudden halt with no prior hint , that I almost knocked my head against the bar .

“ Are you ok , Geetha ji “ , my maid enquired , her mellow voice genuine and concerned .

“I am fine . Almost survived if I might say “ . I replied trying to sound funny , as she wrapped her agile arms around me and swayed me back to my seat .

      Travelling by public transport is a struggle in itself , worse if your age happens to be on the unfortunate side of 60 . A cold shiver shot through my body as the chilling wind sweeped through the window in a hurry . Draping my saree around tightly I flexed my arms closer to my body . The ink blue sky was in the remarkable process of giving way to the crimson clouds. Soon darkness would embrace them . Suppressing the bout of cough which scratched me at the back of my throat , I closed my eyes .

    The day was the most tiring one in months and the most dreaded . If it wasn’t for my maid who noticed a tinge of blood on the sink a few days back , I would be on my bed reciting the Bhagavat Gita at this hour of the day . The horrendous events of the day drifted across my eyes . Alarmed was I about the whole procedure , for a person in her twilight years doesn’t deserve to perch her hopes on a higher rung . But the doctor , a compassionate human being , was persuasive as he cut out a small bit of her breast tissue for the biopsy . Breast disease and blood tinged sputum ? I was confused . It might be a secondary affecting the lungs – He disclosed the assumption through his implicit speech ,  an outright revelation would have shattered me , I was sure . The benefit of the doubt would offer me solace atleast till the biopsy report comes.

   I clinged onto the bar , as the bus paused at the next stop . A lady carrying a baby in her arms entered the bus , almost staggering as the bus resumed its journey in a hurry . I watched as my maid offered the lady her seat . Settling down next to me , the lady sighed a breath of relief and smiled at me .

   I noticed that the pretty smile which twinkled on her lips failed to brighten her eyes . Is it true or is it just me , for I have always sensed people tending to pour out their minds while conversing with an old person . So did this lady , who smiled at me oblivious of the fact that it failed to mask her sorrow.

 Her name was Sakshi and she was returning after paying a visit to her mother who resided in the next town . Sakshi’s mother used to spend her days at their house till two months back , until  her husband started getting irked at the presence of an old petite woman who threatened to fall ill anytime . Try as she might , Sakshi’s pleadings to retain her mother at their house failed to pierce her husband’s deaf ears . Her mother was ousted from their house , albeit with a permission for Sakshi to visit her mother every month .

Finishing the poignant story , Sakshi  said with a gurgle of emotions stammering her words , “ My mother is sick and I miss her so much . Every bit of my heart yearns to take her back to my home and nurse her as best as i could . Unfortunately , my hands are tied .The fear of  jeopardising my family overshadows my resposibility towards my mother . Isnt my future my husband and this child ? Cruel as it might sound , I cant lose them at any cost . “ She wiped away the stream of tear that gushed down her cheeks .

I kept looking at her till tears flooded my eyes and blinded my sight . The bus shrieked to a stop once again , only that this was where I was supposed to get down .

I walked with small slow steps to the formidable building , which has been providing me shelter for the past one year –‘  Karunya Home For The Destitute ‘ , when my maid asked hesitantly

“ When are your children coming to visit you Geeta ji ? I saw them the day you were brought here , never after . Hope they will be here to take you to the hospital for the next visit . “

My heart fluttered as I answered her question with just a slight nod of my head .

 And that was when the vague doubts that have been haunting my mind for the past few months resurfaced to confluence into an answer - Maybe they never will . 

                                    *********************** 

This post is written for Write Over The Weekend , an initiative for Indian Bloggers by blogadda.com

P.S : Image Source : Find Here .