Dark nights…

“I want to paint the sky, someday.”

“But the sky is so high….”

“I will make a big ladder and paint it white…So that there’s no night.”


“Then I would have you by my side…I hate the uncles visiting you, in the night. 

“I too, hate the dark nights of our lives..”

Those whispers…🤫🤫🤫

“I think you need me. I mean I can help you.”

“No thanks.” Was Samira’s insipid reply.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

“Sure..will do so.”

And it was not only Rajiv, who was offering help to her.

In fact, the entire office was.

In an ideal situation, she would have admired the support her colleagues rendered. But, not under the current circumstance. 

She was using the washroom, when three of her lady colleagues entered. Unaware of her presence, they started their discussion.

“It’s sad what happened with Samira. She is such a nice girl.”

“ will she live now..she looks so sad.”

“Life is going to be tough for her.”

“A single mother, in this ravenous world. Don’t know how she is dealing with it.”

“Hmm…hope she finds a man to support her soon…It’s so tough for women to survive without a man in her life.”

“And she has a child to look after.”

The ladies left leaving as Samira tried controlling her seething heart.

But she had a job to do.. So instead of ranting, she chose to get back to her cubicle.

It has been almost a month since her divorce. And still people did not stop discussing her. She was tired of hearing all the whispers. 

And somehow most of the whispers managed to reach her ears. Or may be it was said in a manner to make it reach her ears.

Office was from 9-6..but she could hear whispers and hushed talks even in the neighbourhood.

Sadly she wasn’t a lone victim who was chased by those whispers..her 7year old daughter too faced the same.

He was not an abuser. But there was no love between the two. And when love is not is soon replaced by mutual differences. And this difference was the result of those fights. 

Navin soon found the girl of his dreams. And when Samira found out about it.. they opted for a mutual divorce.

But, how could our society understand that?

The whispers continued…It never left her..

One day, she couldn’t bear the whispers anymore.

So, she called her near and dear ones of her neighbourhood and her colleagues to a party.

A party from a divorcee…definitely attracts a huge attention.

Everyone came..

Food was good. They all were having a gala time..When Samira intervened.

“Do you know why I hosted this party??”

“No…it’s ur birthday??”

“’s my anniversary.”

“ are divorced.”

“Yes..I’m celebrating one year of my divorce anniversary.”

There was pin drop silence. The crowd gawked at her….as she continued.

“When Navin & I married, we both were madly in love. Maisha is the proof of our love. We both love her more than anything, even today. But with time, both me &Navin, fell out of love.’s a fact that you can fall out of love too. We started having our differences, which started interfering the life of our beloved daughter. So we opted for mutual divorce.”

Silence still prevailed in the room.

“And for those of you, who pity me for being a single mom. Please don’t. I don’t want any sympathy or pity from anyone of you. I am happy after the divorce. I have a decent job with a decent salary, a house that I own, a lovable daughter. Believe me guys, I have never been more happy than now..I’m happy being a single mom.”

Few nodded..few still trying to figure out what they have just heard.

“I don’t need a man to define me. I don’t need a man to complete me. I am a complete person even without a man. I’m a self dependent. Fortunately, I was born and brought up like one. I don’t understand the cliches attached with marriage. Why would you stay in a marriage even when you are unhappy? Can anyone tell me the areas/situations where I will feel helpless without a man?? Can you?”

No one answered. But few started understanding her.

“I can do every damn thing a man does. And if someday I find love, like Navin did, I will accept it. But till then, it would be an earnest request from all of you to stop those whispers. Not because they hurt me..they don’t, because I’m happy with the choice I made. 

But because, I feel that all of you think that a single woman/mom is weak. Let me tell you..they are not. Even if I didn’t have a job, I would have somehow managed to provide for my daughter. I wanted happiness. And divorce brought back my happiness. Please stop those whispers for once and all.”

The party ended in no time. The guests left hurriedly. Some with compassion, some with strength and some with criticism..

The whispers continued…but never reached her ears again.

P.S. We may love the men in our lives. But that doesn’t mean that we are weak without them. We are strong, even if the world makes us believe that we are not. 

Those unsaid thoughts….

I love to talk to you. I keep talking with you in my thoughts. At times, I even curse you.

But, I rarely share my thoughts, when you are around. You are too busy to find time for me….

One day, I won’t be there..and my unsaid thoughts would follow me….

Thank you marriage!!!!

Hand in hand they danced their hearts out..

They want some seclusion….a place where they could share their first kiss..

That was magical…

So was the first time they had held hands.

Those butterflies in their stomach…that desire to be left alone in each other’s arms…huh!! Those were the times….

10 years down the line…..

Those butterflies had flown to distant land…that desire to be left alone has lost its appeal…that urge to kiss and caress had lost its thrill…

Love was there but the expression was bygone…

Thank you Marriage!!!

That bottle of yellow paint…

She sheepishly opened one bottle. She was dying to smell it. 

It felt estatic. She fondled her purse for some money. She didn’t have enough. A part of her was urging her to steal it. But she resisted.

Marriage with Varun was bitter. Being married to a rich businessman, made other envious. But in reality, she was desperate to find a way out of this toxic marriage. 

They have crippled her desires, suffocated her life and snatched her dreams. 

She often contemplated suicide. But, the hope of living her life someday, kept her alive. 

With no to support her dreams, she had stopped dreaming. 

But that night, while Varun snored, she kept reminiscing the smell of that yellow bottle. That smell brought back life into her withering soul. 

The brushes, the canvas and the vibrant colors, kept raiding her sleep, throughout the night. And, finally she woke up to her dreams.

That nostalgic smell backed her up, as she left the house before the first ray of light enlightened her new life.

The road ahead was tough….but the one left behind was tougher..Her resilience was her strength. 

Her own parents shunned her…ashamed her….judged her…Society blamed her for leaving her lavish extravagant life. Everyone measured her happiness to the diamonds she wore, but no one knew that she didn’t even have a hundred rupee note at her disposal. She had to answer for every paisa she spent. That was her life.

The diamond bracelet and the wedding ring helped to purchase her a new life. And not for once, she felt ashamed of doing that. 

She started her new life with a bottle of yellow paint. A new city, a small shanty and a lot of vibrant colours. 

She filled her shanty with all the colours of life. Finally she has started seeing what life looked like.

A divorce, living alone in a humongous city, made her life tougher than one could hope. But, the stalwart stood firm and strong.

She filled canvas after canvas. Sold them at a price that commoners could afford.

Soon she had enough, to study Arts. She painted by the day and studied in the night.

Three decades later, she was on the way to her dream. 

“Welcome Mam.” Greeted the crowd.

The ribbon was cut and “Ashalaya” was inaugurated.

“This is where you start transforming your dreams into realities. I was alone when I started my journey. But you all will have me by your side.” 

The crowd cheered. She continued….

“You can dance only when you find the right music. Your foot automatically taps to the tunes you like. Don’t allow anyone to stop those taps. Start painting the canvas of your life, with the colours that defines you, makes you unique yet alike.”

Sheela, now a world renowned painter, had donated all her life savings to build a home for those, who were not taken care off, at their own homes.

And this was just the beginning of the dreams of many more Sheelas…

Am I your mother?? #earthday

There was no end to her struggle. Day and night, she toiled to make the lives of her kids better. 

She was their mother. Day in, day out, she continued to fight against all the adversities…

We all are aware, how tough life is and can be…

And no one knew it better than her. With mouths to feed and hands to hold, and wants to be fulfilled..she continued her journey. She sacrificed everything she owned for their betterment. 

Her only hope was her kids. She wanted them to become like her. She wanted them to understand that things doesn’t come easy, one has to strive for them. 

She nurtured them with all the love her heart could hold. She perceived, that she had ingrained all the good qualities in them, that one should possess. 

But one day she broke down, her heart shattered into a zillion pieces.

One of her son, murdered his own blood. 

She felt lost. Consolation couldn’t help. But she knew she couldn’t stop living. She had to, for the others. 

Life continues..what may come!!!

But, soon she found herself soaked in an unending grief. 

Some slaughtered the animals she had raised like her own. 

Some destroyed the trees, to build shelter.

Some filled the water with filth to keep their homes clean.

Some preyed on the innocent birds and animals for mere pleasure. 

She knew that pleasure was important. But was it as important as the life of another.

She walked down the lanes that lead to her kids houses hoping to find hope against all odds.

She felt happy seeing some of her kids, pass by her in their fancy automobiles, leaving behind a trail of smoke. 

It felt good to see, most of them all settled in their beautiful houses. But she missed the landscape that once existed. 

It ached her heart to see few of them struggle to make their both ends meet. She tried providing them all the assistance her weak body would permit. 

She continued with her journey….

May be one of her kid, imbibed her qualities, may be one turned out like her, may be one would prefer, nurture to torture, may be one would spare a moment to greet life, may be one would instill life into the already dead soul.

She walked and walked in hope of finding one. But all she received, was despair. Her own kids failed to recognise her, few loathed her, few didn’t even care if she existed. They had become to busy to notice their mother. The mother who gave up everything to help them survive. 

Then at one corner, she found a speck of hope. A little girl was planting a sapling. She stood there aghast, watching those little hands, nurturing life into the earth, giving life to her, making her strong….

There was hope. Mother Earth smiled. She knew that billions and trillions of her kids have forgotten her, but a handful still cared for her. And that handful was enough to help her survive for years to come.

And for those zillions and billions, who doesn’t care for their Mother, they should know that one day Mother Earth will die. And no science, no technology, no belief, no ideologies, no fake promises can save her. 

Time is precious. Acting within a prescribed time is even more precious. If we don’t stop here…one day Earth will cease to exist..And so will we…

Something’s burning 😰

“Shit!! Shit!! Shit!!”

Riya lunged from the couch..

“This can’t be happening again. I hate it when you try to control my life…Don’t I have the right to take an half an hour break?? I am tired of cooking and scrubbing. Like you, I too have a right to take respite for an hour.”


Furious Riya threw the remote and hastily ran towards the kitchen in dismay.

The burning stench of the rice in the cooker, has filled the kitchen for the fifth time this month. Courtesy:Netflix😰

An hour later, Riya regained her solace. Courtesy: Netflix 😀

The struggle is real…but so is the happiness…

We all were eagerly awaiting its arrival. I could see Sia impatiently looking at the clock. Her eyes elucidating a strange combination of guilt and happiness. While Anway peeped through the window, for the umpteenth time.

I’m Aparna, a single mom, struggling to bring back normalcy in our lives.

It was way past 30 minutes. Definitely late…

The door bell rang…Sia winked…

The guilt in her eyes was replaced by a candid mischief.

“Sorry for the delay. Your pizza is free.”

We smiled…

I transferred the money into our next months savings.

The struggle is real….So is the happiness.

The perfect makeover

An earnest request….Plz read it till the end…

Let me introduced my mother first. She is just as sweet and charming as any other mother. Saree has been her comfort dressing since her college days. And she does look stunning in a saree. She occasionally dresses in a salwar kameez, but by the looks of her, you can understand how shy she feels. 

Being a Bengali, her signature make-up includes vermillion and a bindi. Nothing else. Hair neatly tied into a bun or a braid.

I had often tried to coax her to try something new..but sadly, have never succeeded. It’s not that I’m not happy the way she looks, but I want her to feel different. 

I wanted to bring that feel good factor in her life. The one that we get, when we try a great looking outfit in the trail room and end up purchasing it. Or the smile that brightens our face on trying those dazzling chandelier earrings. Or those new pair of shoes.

Shopping for me is a stress buster. But when it comes to my mother. It’s more of an additional task for her. Plus she finds extra-extra pleasure in purchasing things for us rather than herself.

You must be thinking why the hell I’m writing all this.

So here’s the reason why..

Today I forced her for a hairdo(believe me, that’s the max I can try. Putting on make up or something similar is not my forte 😜😜😜. I know my limits).

As usual, she was hesitant. I knew she would be. So I had armed myself accordingly. As per her, her hair and her pony tail was perfect enough. Well it was perfect , but I wanted it to be more than perfect, just for once.

So, after much coaxing and black mailing, I managed to take her to a parlour and get a new hairdo. And it turned out to be overwhelmingly impressive. 

And the main reason for writing about this is the spark that I saw in her eyes. I got to witness that after so many years. May be, the last time I saw it was, when I was a child. When I saw her putting some effort in getting dressed. 

But with passage of time, she stopped putting that extra effort. And somewhere deep down me, I was sad about it. 

I was and am sad about her getting old. She is and will with passing time. I am aware that I can’t control time, but I can surely make efforts to use it wisely. And, there’s always space for some happiness, if you allow yourselves to be happy.

Find the things, that can make your parents happy. With every passing day they are getting old. Find the things that can brighten them, make their wrinkles smile even if it’s just momentarily. Do that before you realise it’s too late.

I did it. And it felt great. I’m planning to do more. I want to see those sparkling eyes. They may hesitate. Few may be stubborn. But mark my words, we all love to be pampered for once. Pamper them as much as you can. They are the sole reason for your existence. Start becoming the reason for their happiness.

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