The secret behind the closed closet🤫(Read at your own risk).

During my college days, I had a roomie. And I used to envy her closet.

It’s been almost two decades now, and I’m still envious of her closet.

No. Her cupboard didn’t contain any designer outfit or captivating couture. It was her organisational skills. Everything in her closet had a place for itself. Every piece of clothing were folded to perfection, stacked neatly one on top of another. It was picture perfect. And it remained so forever. 

From the time I had known her, I had tried to imitate her skills, a number of times, but despite of numerous trials I could never reach that perfection. And later I gave up on trying.

And now, I don’t even bother.

I’m not a messy person, but I’m also not a very organised one too.

I accept that most of the times, my closet is a mess. But that doesn’t mean, I don’t try to organise it. Believe me, I do. 

I sincerely do.

I try my level best to make it sparklingly clean and neat and tidy (Whenever I try). It may not be on a regular basis but I do. 

After college..I started working.. work kept me busy, so I hardly found time to organise. I would do it on weekends, provided I had time. And then, by the mid of the week, my closet would be again messed up. 

But I wouldn’t blame myself for my messed-up closet.

It was the fault of that “Red Dupatta”.  That “red dupatta” would be easily visible on the other days. But the day I needed it, it would miraculously vanish from the scene. And in order to find that “red dupatta” I would scavenge the whole cupboard within a few minutes. And once the whole wardrobe was messed up, that “red dupatta” will magically make it’s appearance. It would mock, delightfully guffaw, scornfully laugh at me, and say,

“I was lying there since ages, but you didn’t have an eye for me.”

And I would pull it out and run for office in the nick of time, leaving my closet at war. 

On the way, I would promise myself to clear up the mess, win the battle in the upcoming weekend.

But, then again, within a few days, that “Peach kameez” would tease me to tear down my organised closet once again. And so on….

It continued. 

I thought I would change once I get hitched. But the “dupattas, the tees, the jeans…” never stopped mocking at my misery.

I thought, may be after having a kid, things will change. And so will the fate of my closet.

But, right now, I have a sole advice for anyone visiting my house.

“Don’t you dare try to find out the secret behind the closed closet. Open it at your own risk. You never know how many and which colored clothes, toys, puzzles, etc are going on a rampage today. If they chose to attack you, I wouldn’t be there to rescue you.”

Cause guilty as charged, I dumped everything my baby and I messed up, just a few minutes before your visit. And it did it only to greet you to a house that meets your expectations. 

P.S. Would love to hear the stories from your end. How do you gals manage to stay organised as well as manage a job and a baby? I gave up long time..and I’m in no mood of achieving it anytime soon. 

The stilettos 👠


The smell of freshly brewed coffee was suddenly overpowered by a smell that evoked fond memories of his childhood, followed by the familiar rattle of the stilettos.

Lucas fumbled for his walking stick. Today he was determined to catch hold of the stilettos.

Stilettos walked away from him. He followed. 

Stilettos ran. He tried, but his stick couldn’t. 

He bumped into someone. 

“Lucas, do you need any help?”

“Follow that lady in stilettos please.”

“Which one?”

“The one with that unforgettable fragrance who left me in the orphanage, yet never left my side.”

Stilettos watched him cry once again..:

The sweet affair!!

By all rights you should have been mine. I never left ruminating about you.

Just the other day, I caught you staring at me, as I passed by. I tried not to give you any attention. But failed. 

Remember, the last time we met?? It was Anubha’s party. You hypnotised me once again. But, my husband noticed our little affair. 

He sat for a while, then looked at me with total disdain. 

We left immediately.

On reaching home he said,

“You promised me that you will leave your sweet affair.”

“But first love is so difficult to forget.”

He pushed the syringe into my hand.

The insulin shot couldn’t be delayed. 

“It’s me or the gulab jamun.” Was all he said.

The compliment…

She sat in front of the mirror delicately applying Kajal. She pursed her lips to smoothen the red lipstick. A little bit of powder and she was all done.

Her reflection said it all. She was happy.

She fiddled her jewellery box in search of the perfect pair of earrings. She found one that would compliment her dress.

This was the dress that Arun had gotten her for her birthday. It was special. She wore it for special occasion only.

Was today something special? was not..

But today she wanted to feel special.

Most of the days she goes unnoticed. Arun hardly notices her these days or may be he does. But seldom compliments.

But she wants to hear those compliments. His compliments always made her feel special.

Dressed in her favourite peach colored salwar kameez, she went outside her room.

They were going out for dinner.

“I’m ready.”

“Good..let me get the car keys. Then we can leave.”

She waited with bated breath for a compliment. But an hour of struggle with her make-up, went in vain.

Once again…she went unnoticed, un-complimented.

Did she do something wrong? Why didn’t Arun notice? She was wearing the dress that he chose for her..she even wore make-up. Then why did she go unnoticed? Why didn’t Arun see her?

She kept contemplating while they drove to their favourite restaurant.

Their car came to a halt at a traffic signal. She gawked unashamedly at the famous designer’s boutique. Her eyes fixated on the peach gown embellished with silver embroidery, adorning the petite curvaceous mannequins. She could probably never afford it.

But the question still remained…that even if she could, will Arun notice her??

The girl with pierced naval…

“Ribbed jeans, tank top, kohl laden eyes, pierced naval…Disgusting!!What kind of girl is she??”

Smirked Sarita, looking at the girl.

“I tell you Pammi….these girls send open invitation to the rapist.”

A few days later…

Headline of a newspaper with familiar picture….

“Another rape…Rapist caught…”

“Rahul look at this girl. The moment I saw her, I told Pammi, that she will be raped someday. Her dress…you know…😱😱”

“Maa…read the full article. She is the one who rescued the 5 year old from getting raped.”

Sarita stood aghast…


Do you have any dreams??

Yes, I want to make it to the hockey team.

But, the road ahead is going to be very tough,

Have faith, I will make it, even if the path is rough.

I have faith in you my boy, but I cannot bear to see your tears,

Mumma, it high times that you and I overcome our fears.

I wish to wake up on one fine day,

And see you running around, happy and gay.

Don’t worry, my chair has strong wheels,

I shall chase the ball on my automobile.


95 words microfiction.

Prompt: Wake up

Recipe: To make the perfect Indian Woman!!

Statutory warning: Please read at your own risk. 

Time required: As much time as you want to dedicate. The more the merrier!!! But, as Rajni ji would say, MIND IT!! It might just take hell lot of time.

Please note down the key ingredients- 

10 ounce of patience, 15 ounce of obedience, 10 ounce of respect and kindness, an ounce of humility, 5 ounce of empathy, 10 cups of tolerance, 10 cups of endurance, 10 cups ‘keeping others happy’, 10 cups of sacrifice, 10 cups of strength, 10 cups of efficiency, 10 cups of emotions towards others, few ounces of love and understanding, 15cups of ‘expert at household chores,’ 20 cups of “killing my dreams,” 10 cups of adjustments, 10 cups of submissiveness, a pinch of “smile every now and then,” and a dash of fake smile and lots of modesty, a handful of cleanliness, helpfulness, economical and perseverance, lots of elegance & self control, a couple of spoons of care…..

Things not to add: (Make sure these are not within the vicinity while you are trying to create a perfect woman)

Confidence, outspokenness, extrovert-ness, a voice, emotions towards self, self-respect, ambition, pride, intelligence, wit, outgoing-ness, anger, needs & desires for herself, self respect, lust, self worth, praises, self-love, appreciations, choices, stubbornness, atrocity, prudence, wisdom, tardiness, brains, courage….

(To err, is human!!! If I have missed any then kindly let me know. I will be happy to add that to my list)


  1. Add all the above ingredients into the mind of a girl, preferably from the day she starts understanding the mystery called ‘life.’
  2. Give the ingredients ample time to settle in her mind. (Time may vary from individual to individual)
  3. Make sure that the temperature settings are such that it creates an environment where she is forced to perceive that woman are worthless creatures meant for only household chores.
  4. Continue to do this every single day she manages to survive.
  5. Repeat the entire process until you get the desired “woman” as per as yours and your family’s need.
  6. Make sure you don’t keep any of the “Things not to add” ingredients in her vicinity or within her reach. Because, no matter how much you try, she is has an inborn capacity to imbibe each and every ingredient from “Things not to add” list, with the slightest exposure. 
  7. Make sure the proportion of ingredients is exact. If not, then be ready to bear the consequences.

Well, I’m sure that most of my readers don’t like my recipe for creating a perfect woman. But, you have all the freedom to choose the ingredients as per your requirements. 

So, please, please, please, feel free to add ingredients as per your choice. 

The result may be disastrous for  our beloved “society” but, you would succeed in creating someone who will love the fact that she is born as a woman. 

And mind you, result might just turn out to be something similar to Me, or millions of other women, who loves themselves for their imperfections, loves themselves for the choices they have made, loves themselves for understanding their self-worth, loves themselves for the accolades they have won, loves themselves for balancing their family and their job, loves themselves for just being a WOMAN. 

Am I characterless??(A true story)

I have seen her toiling day and night.

Her husband left for the heavenly above leaving behind a 2year old. She had hardly come out of bereavement when hunger knocked hard at her door. 

In laws starved her and also the little soul. You could count his little bones. They even tried sell her off. But she escaped from their evil clutches with the help of a close relative.

I have seen her toiling day and night…

A young dusky village girl who started working as a house help. It would fetch her enough to feed her little son. There were days when she had food for just one mouth. Her son ate as she filled her stomach with joy. Her son’s burp was enough to satiate her hunger.

She worked like a dog, day and night. Never did she shy away from any of the household chores. With a happy face she served as many houses as her famished body would permit. When other maids chose to take a weekly leave, she chose to work as an extra. Rain, storm, heat, political strike, what may come, she was never absent from her work.

Soon, the people understood her worth. She became a person whom all could trust. And along with that came in more money.

And she needed it all. Life was not as good as that her husband had planned for her. But with time she forced life to become bearable for her. Her son was growing in leaps and bound.

She worked, she toiled day and night.

“I want him to go to an English medium school. I’m ready to work more just to see him prosper.”

Thankfully the government smiled after 8years of repeated and tiresome visits to the court. She got the job of her deceased husband. She joined as a peon in the government office. Her hard work once again, paid her off. 

She would attend office in the morning. And work as a help in the evening. All to give a better life to her son.

Son was good. He loved his mother. But soon, our society couldn’t bear her success. They started shaming her for ignoring her son. Some even questioned her modesty. She ignored it all. Because she knew that the world will raise questions on everyone. But it doesn’t matter as long as she is not wrong.

But, good things do come to an end. Society couldn’t bear her success. Yes, now she was promoted to the post of head peon, which was too much for her neighbors to bear. Within a few years she managed to buy a house of her own on loan. Once again her chastity was questioned. 

But she ignored it…

My son loves me and he is my pride. 

But one day, she was shattered. Her own blood had the heart to question her modesty. 

She broke down. She cried. She shouted. She cried. But she went to work. 

Her teenage son was maligned by the poisonous society. A society which was too weak to see the hard earned success of a head peon. 

I still see her toiling day and night. But with a weaker heart. A heart wishing for her son to understand the pain she had taken in bringing him up. 

Hope he understands, the pain his mother had to bear. 

She was young. She was vulnerable. She had the option to remarry, but she did not. Even in the worst of times, she never caved in to all indecent proposals that kept banging on her door. 

But I cried the day when she asked me,

“Bhabi, You know me. Am I characterless? My son called me so.”

P.S. This is not a story but a reality. Why can’t the society spare a single mother? Be it a house maid or a CEO, why does the society think that in order to be successful  single woman has to lose her chastity? 

Paint my world!!

Paint my world.

“Why didn’t they allow me?”

With welled eyes he turned the pages of his old art book.

“If only they had allowed me, my world would have been so vibrant.”

The mantle-piece was screaming of his glorious past, flooded with the many accolades. Wish he had just one trophy for something he really loved.

“Painting wouldn’t feed the mouths. Study hard. Study hard.”

A beautiful family, a bungalow by the sea and a rich man’s car….but all this couldn’t paint his world.

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