Wednesday, March 23, 2016

#Wordy #Wednesday #4 #March2016 #PicturePrompt

Let Go

In sickness and in health
Till death do us 'part

We promised to stand by each other

Till someone stole my heart

Monday, December 28, 2015

With her debut novel, Nadia Hashimi takes us to Kabul where women were child brides to men thrice their age, were rarely the first or only wives and were treated depending on the number of sons they gave birth to.

Rahima is the 3rd  of 5 sisters. Of a father who fights for a warlord, when he isn’t delirious on a drug high, and a mother who lives in the perpetual guilt of having given birth to 5 daughters and under her mother-in-laws constant threat of getting her husband remarried.
The lack of a male child forces her mother to covert Rahima into a ‘Bacha Posh’, a custom where a daughter is dressed and allowed to live like a son, till she attains puberty. Treated as a male Rahima, who is now Rahim, tastes freedom and realizes she likes it even as she notices the lack of it given to her own kind.  

Though the story telling of her feisty aunt Rahima discovers  that she isn’t the only Bacha Posh in the family and her great-great-grandmother, Shekiba was the first. From here starts Rahimas fascination for Shekiba, women who lived 100 years apart.

A foolish mistake on Rahim’s part leads to her angering her father, who marries off three of his daughters at one go, and Rahim is back to being Rahima, and the fourth wife of the warlord her father works for.

From here on starts 13 year old Rahima’s struggle. Her life drawing parallels to Shekiba’s life, the story she seeks inspiration from and which becomes her strength.

A simply written book that shows us that a society is  oppressive because women make other women miserable and it is only women who can make things better for their kind.
Read it to gain inspiration from women who do not let society or their ‘naseeb’(destiny) dictate to them. Read it for the strength of will, even though the body is weak. For that tiny glimmer of hope and heaps of courage that keep these women going despite all the atrocities committed on them.
Read it to realize that Khaled Hosseini has set a trend for Afghan writers to bare the scars of their battle torn country they are all so proud of.
Read it. Just read it.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Husband Chronicles - Part 22

I haven't been sleeping well or enough lately, leading to exhaustion. 
Yesterday I mentioned the same to The Husband, adding that I was looking forward to rising LATE on Sunday, by catching up on my sleep. A rare treat, mind you.
10 minutes after this declaration, I get a call from my maid telling me she'll be coming at 7 in the morning, a good two hours earlier than her usual post 9 am appearance on a Sunday.
Needless to say, I was crushed.
Seeing which, The Husband assured me that I should sleep in and he would wake up and 'take care'
Hearing which, tears threatened to spill out of my eyes and a mushy Karan Johar track played in my mind. I was so grateful to have him as my Husband, was my last thought before I turned into Kumbhakaran.
Before I knew it, I was being prodded awake from deep slumber, with The Husband mumbling, 'the maid is ringing the bell but you don't wake up, I'll take care'
 Wake up I did, and had the usual tumbler of steaming filter kaapi  ready for His Highness when he woke up at 9.
He's taking his 3rd nap of the day, as I write this.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

#WordyWednesday #2 #October2015 #PhrasePrompt

Phrase Prompt: What goes around, comes around

He strained against the pressure, struggling to escape and suddenly he broke free. Just like that he was free! He couldn’t believe it was happening! Finally! He aimed for the horizon, soaring towards it, gaining speed as he shot forward.
He was the master of his own life, unhindered and untethered! Wooooohooooooo! Freedom, he decided WAS sweet!!
Where would he go next? What would he do next? With the wind as his wings he thought of all this and more. 
Suddenly, he felt a tug on his right. Looking back he saw there was no one there, even as he felt himself being pulled in that direction.
He gulped, and stifled a scream. He couldn’t go back! Not now! Not after tasting sweet freedom! The wind hurtled him back, to where it all began. The grass came up to meet him, and the Boomerang hit the ground.
It had passed the quality check.

A Boomerang is a thrown tool, that is designed to spin about an axis perpendicular to the direction of its flight. A returning boomerang is designed to return to the thrower. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

#WordyWednesdays #1 #October2015 #WordPrompt #Serendipity

Word Prompt: Serendipity

He was one of the greatest masters ever known. His paintings were works of art coveted by many and afforded by very few. Every perfect creation of his managed to stun. 
Every one, except his only child who showed no interest in following her father’s footsteps.
He splashed color on canvas, creating another beautiful masterpiece even as he splashed her with rage crushing her spirit a bit more.
How could it be that his daughter couldn’t even draw a straight line, he wondered, shunning and slighting her.
Till he was called to the hospital, where his daughter lay, among the tubes and instrument surrounding her.
An accident, he was told.
He held her tiny hand and cried.  
He prayed, for her life and forgiveness.
Dawn had turned to dusk when he finally looked up, and smiled. 
He saw the crooked line of the ECG machine and silently begged her to make some more.

  1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.
    "a fortunate stroke of serendipity"
    synonyms:chance, happy chance, accident, happy accident, flukeMore

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

#WordyWednesday #No4 #September2015 #PicturePrompt

The pic above was the picture prompt for this writing exercise. Pic Courtesy:Geetika Gupta

Kiran let out a contended sigh. A beautiful sunset, an endless supply of his favorite wine and the love of his life besides him. He turned towards his left and watched Laxmi snooze. His finger traced a pattern down Laxmi’s hand as he asked, ‘Ready to go home?’ ‘As ready as I’ll ever be!’ replied Laxmi gleefully.
Kiran and Laxmi had faced it all.
Horror and opposition by the family, shunning by friends and oppressement by strangers.
They bore it all together as their love was their strength. Till their houses were burnt down and their family beaten black and blue.
It was then that they escaped. To a land where strangers embraced and celebrated their union, allowing both Kiran and Laxmi’s love and togetherness to blossom.
But now it was time to go home. To the land where they grew up and which the yearned for. Now things would be different, even though Mr Kiran Kshetri and Mr Laxmikant Pathak remained the same.

This article was the inspiration for this story.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

#WordyWednesday, #Week3 #SentencePrompt

Written for Blog-a-rythm
Sentence Prompt: It hurts no more

Her eyes scrunched with pain and she swallowed a scream! She knew the first time would hurt, but SO much, she hadn’t imagined.
Almost all the girls in school had lost theirs, giggling smugly as they huddled together, discussing every minute detail. 
She felt so left out when she saw them, but her courage gave away when she imagined her Mothers wrath. She would always be a Baby where her mother was concerned, but she was a young woman now, she reassured herself.
And after endless sleepless nights and thoughts she decided to go ahead and do it, and here she was, silently chanting ‘It hurts no more! It hurts no more!’ as the parlor girl applied yet another layer of hot wax, covered it with a strip of cloth and ripped out a patch of hair from her arm.