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Showing posts from 2015

Just let me be...

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Let me run wild, Without any worries. Let me laugh loud, Without any sorries. Let me be filthily dressed, Without being judged. Let me be loved, The one strangers could hug. Let me speak my mind, Without being gagged. Let me stay out late, Without being nagged. Let me sleep under the sky, Watch the clouds float by. Let me live in peace, And let me fly. Most importantly, Let me be who I am Just let me be, is all I want…

It's not about a Happy Ending

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All my life I searched for a happy ending; All my life I deluded myself into believing in it, In all situations; good or bad; All I was worried about being how it fared? As I grew old, old enough to understand; Where my life was headed and toward what I was blind. Golden moments passed me by; in spite of they being rare,  Obsessing over the ending and for the rest I didn't care. Now I wonder if I would ever get those moments again; Even if I promised to enjoy without worrying about the end, The true wisdom has finally dawned upon me; Sometimes it’s not about a happy ending, it's only about the story.

Story of Tublu

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About the author: Jahid Akhtar is a software developer by profession. He was born and brought up in Assam and resides in Bangalore with his wife Anjali and their little daughter, Jia. Jahid enjoys writing about some unforgettable moments, in his blog titled Flashbacks. About the story:       Devastated by floods, Bipin and his little boy Tublu move to a faraway land, where they meet the Sharmas. This marks the beginning of a long and enduring relationship between Bipin and the Sharmas and the growing friendship of their children Tublu and Maina. The book captures the journey of this friendship through childhood to adolescence and into adulthood. From some interesting school and college humour, the story progresses on and develops into a mature narrative. As years pass, Tublu's plain and silent crush on Maina develops into deep love and longing which bears the potential to conquer all of life's challenges. The story has its share of drama, that entertains, hu

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

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Friends forever  When you are married, the only thing you miss the most is being carefree, the laidbackness, or the way we people in Kolkata call it "Addagiri", where you just sit in a coffee shop or your college bench and talk endlessly... almost about anything, even things that don't concern you and your friends. I would give my limbs to relive those days. Ours was a small group comprising of three girls, from Loreto College, Kolkata. But as fate would have it, we all got separated soon after we finished our graduation. I was married and had to shift to Mumbai. The other one shifted to Gurgaon, and soon even she got married and shifted to London. The remaining one is still in Kolkata (lucky devil). Like most of the people, even we three had promised to be in touch always. Initially we were in touch but soon our present lives, with its endless demands, took over. Our daily calls became weekly and then monthly. Not that we didn't miss each other,

Am I too old?

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I am a 34 year old housewife. I have never done anything that can be considered extra ordinary or bold or even remotely brave. . I have never had a boyfriend or even knew a guy (who was not a brother or an uncle or a relative), I was not even overly ambitious. Most of you, who might be reading this, must be wondering why I am even writing when I have nothing to boast off. Well, I did something which was very unlike me and it meant a lot to me ... I did stand up for a small/miniscule cause. *** I have never questioned my parents, teachers, in-laws, my husband or even my friends. Not because I was afraid but because I had nothing I felt worth standing-up for. So whatever they decided for me I was cool with it. My teachers thought I should go for commerce I did. My friends thought that I should appear for Jet Airways air hostess’s interview... I did. I even got selected but my parents thought being an over-qualified waitress wasn't good enough. I happily dropped the

.... and I love him very much

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And I love  him very much........ My son, Vikram, he is my love, my undoing, my headache and my stress reliever. I always thought I was definitely not a mother material. I was utterly reckless and extremely irresponsible.   The moment I held him in my arms for the first time, I had super mixed feelings. I was excited... but I was nervous more. I was holding a wrinkly small weightless thing in my hand. What if I drop him? What if I unknowingly hurt him? What was I supposed to do with this thing? It was nothing like we saw in films, mommies so happy and so ready for a baby. I knew I was not. If I could have my way, I would have pushed him back in my womb. He was safer there than in my hands. Vikram was born in the month of June- a month where there is no sun just water everywhere. After almost 21 hours of long labour, I finally got him out. On the fourth day I returned back home, just to realize he was a pooping-peeing-crying machine. Within 3 hours all my mothe

Happy Ending

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Prologue Last year was a difficult year for me. My father-in-law had been in and out of the hospital or should I say ICU. The story that I am going to tell is about a woman who I met in the hospital waiting room. She had lost her husband a couple of years ago. She was there for her father, who had suffered a stroke. Blame it on my mentality or just blame it on the way I was shown the world- I thought may be her father was stressed looking at his widow daughter with two sons, trying to make the ends meet. That's what widows do, don't they? Trying to make the ends meet. Her life story was an eye- opener and I am still reeling under it. *** Story It was an unusually warm summer morning. Mr Bakshi, a Vice-president in a Multinational bank had gone for his usual run. He was an over-ambitious go-getter. He was the youngest vice-presidents in the company. He seemed always awake and always on the go. By the time he returned home, he was panting and swe

All on our own

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I walk aimlessly on a dark narrow road; With my feet stumbling and my eyes dripping away it's sorrow. People walked past me as my tears flowed; Hoping, somebody would notice, if not today, may be tomorrow. My soul is screaming aloud to be heard; Is it just me who's invisible or this is how it goes? Look at them go, keeping their soul unstirred; My invisibility and their indifference are my only woes. I passed by a door, closed and silent; The door was trying to burst open, As if the inaudible sobs were turning violent; I walked towards it with the feeling of a bad omen. As I reluctantly opened the door, Stood men and women, the wonderers; Their face blank like mine, walk aimless, They were the silent sufferers. I wonder why don't they yearn to reach out; Or do they enjoy being alone? Nobody cares   finally they shout, We all are on our own . The post is written for #1000speak 

Crazy Stupid Love - a short story.

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C razy S tupid L ove Siddharth and I had been friends since college. We got into the same IT firm through college placement. We were inseparable till Ananya, with her angelic face and figure-to-die-for, walked into our lives. I went to Jaipur for 5 days to attend a wedding and in those 5 days my friend had already fallen head over heels in love with this woman, presented her with gifts, dropped her home and even listened to her sob stories. Look at me, I know him since last 7 years other then few random birthday cards I never got anything from him. As it turns out Ananya already had a boyfriend.  This man can’t seem to make his mind about the girl. They break –up for a month and then they are back together for a couple of months to break up again. Every time this man breaks-up with Ananya… Ananya comes running back to Siddharth. Siddharth, being head over heels in love with her, accepts her with open arms. Like expected, when that boyfriend gets his periodical chang

Paying the price

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You miss me,  That’s what you say; You miss me,  You cry every day. I am missable,  Just like old wine, I am better off, That's what everyone opine. If I was good, If I was so nice; Why did he leave? Why am I the one paying the price?