Tell-a-Tale.....

27 th October, the first time I witnessed the winter chills this year. It touched or rather attacked me with all its might when I was comfortably walking back my way home from office. My snug blackish grey T-shirt and denims couldn’t protect me. I had to brace myself against the darn cold winds and move on. Oh yes, I did feel it a day before 27 th too but then I was on a motor bike, riding as a pillion, returning back from a horribly terrible movie, 10 at night. It’s natural to think that it was a result of a paranoia that I suffer from while riding bikes. There, I said it; I am scared of sitting pillion on bikes. I have this terrible feeling that the moment the driver pushes the accelerator; I will roll back and fall down on the road.    Okay, I digressed from the point. So, as I was saying I felt that chill. And I didn’t enjoy it. I do not like winters. I hate the cold mornings, cold afternoons, cold everything! I hate to wear so many layers and getting lost undernea...

She was selfish. She wanted importance and attention from him, and of course, he gave it all to her. He was totally smitten with her. But still it couldn’t make her happy. Don’t know why she yearned for more. Every time he tried, it irritated her, if he didn’t, it hurt her. Maybe she was bipolar. She loved him. She tried her best, but it often happened that she used to lose interest mid way. She adored him. He was her only confidante; she never talked to anyone about anything but him. She admired his patience with her, but she still feigned interest in his talks. Maybe she was confused. It was long since they were together now. She used to think about future. Sometimes he was in it with her, sometimes he wasn’t. They argued about it. It used to lead to a few days of going without talking, but then they used to miss each other. Things were forgiven and forgotten. They would come back to normal. She would still love him. Maybe she was attached a lot to him. People use...

Sitting by her balcony, on a comfortable rocking chair, Aruni was appreciating the ever beautiful sunset through her eyes. It was going to be a week now that she had quit her job. She had never felt so relaxed in five years. Her life was this job. Actually, she had no other choice, it had to be. Though the orange sky kissing the darker brown horizon was nowhere to be seen, instead, all she could see was some tall buildings through which the bright sun was as if playing a game of hide and seek with her. She was enjoying it immensely just when Yashoda, her part-time maid brought her that steaming cup of ginger tea with oodles of milk and cream. She liked her tea that way. The smell of ginger mixed with the air and with the whiff of Yashoda’s mogre ka gajra was giving Aruni a heavenly feeling altogether. Sipping her hot tea she looked at her balcony. A small, cozy place with 3 potted plants; a rose shrub, a fir and dried tulsi plant. Some nylon ropes with clothespins ...

It always confused her. She did not know how to respond to these questions. She had never seen her father. It was just her ‘Ma’ and her since the events of her life had unfolded and left marks on her. She always wondered the root of questions like, “what does your father do?” or “what’s your father’s name” or “where is your father”. She simply did not know how to answer them. While on the primal stages of her life she would stare at her mother wondering what was going on who would save her from the horror and control the situation. Later on after gaining the insight about it, she would simply tell people what ‘Ma’ told her father used to do. Not having a father or father like figure never had bothered her, it didn't matter. ‘Ma’ was her life, her friend, philosopher her guide. Her whole life was centered around the women who bore her, gave birth to her and was with her on every recollection of her life. She used to see children her age with a man along with their mothers....

Nope, I have never liked holi . Not entirely hated but not really my favorite. Each year I would promise myself that I would lock myself inside my room from dawn to dusk with lots of food and drinks and a hard drive full of movies and series thinking that I won’t open the door even if someone collapses outside, banging it like a maniac. But somehow it always happened, I could never sustain inside the room. 3 hours later I would come back from the streets, all red, black and blue (no, not with the beating.. just with the colour) and keep grinning in the shower thinking how we washed him with colors, or how those girls ran when we threw water balloons at them and how we attacked strangers with gulaal and the “ happy holi ” catch phrase of the day.   This year wasn’t that different either other than some tini-tiny events that were added for the effect. I woke up perfectly alright with a determination that I will eat, read, watch, sleep and repeat. But without going into a...

My eyes moved from the first row and it got stuck to the second last seat by the window in the left. It was empty and it looked cozy and welcoming. The bus I just boarded for home was practically empty with just a few college students and 3-4 elderly people sitting here and there leaving the back of the bus alone..in darkness..    The untimely shower had made some people miserable and had disintegrated their lives leaving the streets deserted and making the city look like a distant, sleepy suburb at 8 PM. But they had to admit, the rains left its beauty behind washing up the unbearable dust and bringing down the temperature for people to take a sigh of a short lived relief. I loved it.    Leaving everyone behind, I reached to the seat that I had already assigned to myself inside my head. As I settled down after folding my 3-fold umbrella messily and trying to dry off the marks of the rain from my soaking head and arms I dunked my head inside my bag...