When her dad passed away I helped her get back on track with studies and all of her things and when I told her that her boyfriend is cheating her she broke the friendship with me! Six months later she also broked up with her boyfriend saying "you never loved me!". Women are not always the victim!

She hugged him tight and cried. It was a dark stormy night. The clouds were intensely close, waiting to squeeze tight together and burst out. Nature was mimicking human emotions virtually. Zara didn’t want to leave him; not now at least. She was in love. The kind of love wherein you don’t know if you are better together in a cuddly embrace for some time or lost in each other's thoughts all day. But this was the deciding time of her life. Amit stayed just one block ahead of Zara. She was visiting her parent’s house those days and so was he. She made it a point to see him every time he came around. They loved meeting up for coffees. It always struck me hard when I saw men keep themselves free for other women so easily. I never found the time for my own, forget any other. Probably that explains the whole chaos around me now. Oh well, I still haven't introduced myself. I am Rahul, Zara’s husband and this is my story. She used to mention about Amit a lot. They were childhood friends. Thei

She hugged him tight and cried. It was a dark stormy night. The clouds were intensely close, waiting to squeeze tight together and burst out. Nature was mimicking human emotions virtually. Zara didn’t want to leave him; not now at least. She was in love. The kind of love wherein you don’t know if you are better together in a cuddly embrace for some time or lost in each other's thoughts all day. But this was the deciding time of her life. Amit stayed just one block ahead of Zara. She was visiting her parent’s house those days and so was he. She made it a point to see him every time he came around. They loved meeting up for coffees. It always struck me hard when I saw men keep themselves free for other women so easily. I never found the time for my own, forget any other. Probably that explains the whole chaos around me now. Oh well, I still haven't introduced myself. I am Rahul, Zara’s husband and this is my story. She used to mention about Amit a lot. They were childhood friends. Thei

Rekha was a curious 16 year old girl from a rusty little coastal town in the Prakasam district of Andra Pradesh.She had been packed off to Mumbai by her parents to earn some extra bucks for the family before being married off a few years down the line.For Rekha, Mumbai was her passport to the intriguing world of internet. She had attended the Girls Development and Skilling Camp in her school and had had the opportunity to witness the the power of Search engines. She had not been able to fathom how it could give any information needed, at a click. In MUMBAI, Rekha took up the job of a live in maid and care giver at Kenneth Carvalho's.More than her monthly pay check, she was excited about having a phone and Wifi accessibility!!Somewhere over this unseen network, Rekha and Baapamma's lives intersected.Baapamma was easily 80 years old.When Savio,her husband kicked the bucket a few months back, she drowned herself in Feni to drown her grief and had accidentally tripped and hit her head against the balustrade

Farida grew up on the foundation of differences.Her brother Javed was mollycoddled while her fate was resigned to strict instructions.He got to go to school while she was forced to help with the household.He could play outdoors with his friends while she had to sit huddled with the women in the central courtyard of their house.She could not raise a voice, nor her eyes.Once, in the darkness of a dreaded night, Farida got groped.Javed’s lascivious face in the flickering light was something she just could not cope.Her pain, her anger, her suppression, her humiliation all snowballed into deliverance.Every stab into Javed’s heart was met by her grave indifference.

I chanced upon him at a subway station in New York. It had been a few years since I had heard anyone speak with that nasal stalwart Puneri twang which I so detested while growing up in our very typical "Koknastha Brahmin" household. However, on that very cold January morning, in a country which still felt somewhat foreign, the Marathi falling on my ears was like wisps of sunshine warming the cockles of nostalgia.My tapping on his shoulder was almost involuntary."Namaskar!Me Vidya Joglekar, Kasba Peth, Pune" "Namaste, Me Shrirang Datey, Sadashiv Peth" he replied with the most magnanimous smile and kind eyes I had ever seen. We met almost every day after that, sometimes for coffee, sometimes over lazy lunches but most of the time for long walks at the Central Park. All we ever did was speak. In a way, it was therapeutic. I emptied all those emotions so deeply buried within me. I wept, he offered me his shoulder.I vented out all my frustrations and helplessness and he gave me a patient hearing.He was a man of

Miraya had just turned thirteen and Mohit, nine.They were like any other pair of siblings, at that age.Goofing around, quarrelling, pulling each other’s legs. Basically, annoying the life out of each other.A straight forward dialogue exchange was nearly extinct, in their relationship.With both parents being celebrated surgeons in the city, the children had tasted independence at a young age and had grown accustomed to solving problems, by themselves.      It was a Wednesday and Miraya was irritable since morning.She decided to drag her self to school as she had a Physics test.Her stomach was cramping, her head was throbbing and her energy sapping with every passing minute.For a reason unknown to her, she wanted to just bawl.The school nurse asked her to have some water and use the toilet.To her horror, right inside the stinky school loo, she met with her first period, head on!!Although she had heard stories from friends and had attended the “Puberty and Hygiene” workshop, noth

Stress by it self is a huge topic to deal with so I have decided to break it into fragments.For every fragment of Stress,I will carve a short story based on my perception and analysis.Here goes the first one:)Once upon a time there was a beautiful scarlet rose bush.When the first dazzling bud appeared on the shrub, the gardener became overjoyed.He spread the word across the county and invited people to see the beauty in her  blossomed glory.      Deviating from his experience, the innocent bud was taking longer than expected to bloom.The gardener checked on her every hour.There was no progress.He added extra nutrition, yet no progress.Fed up, he decided to carefully peel the delicate petals to propel the process.The tiny scarlet bud could not cope with this stress.Unrealistic expectations is a type of external stress which can burden the bearer. This can very well be intrinsic,in a scenario of you Vs YOU.When I studied engineering, Stress applied to a material was defined as force per

Nine year old Arjun was an avid reader.One look at his book shelf and you had Marvel the avengers, kid Krish, He-Man, Super hero Max, Hercules and many such flamboyantly dressed, brawny action  icons staring at you, head-on.        Arjun lived in an apartment complex in an upcoming suburb, with his mother Anjali and their pet mongrel, Spidey. Two years back, after her painful separation from Vikas, Anjali was granted sole custody of Arjun.For anyone who knew her, she was this live, breathing, pulsating energy on the move.Anjali was the life of any place she went to, she often had people in spilts with her wit and humour and she guffawed through most challenges in her life.        She was a brilliant multitasker and handled her deadlines at work, her household responsibilities, her pet and parental duties with the spirit of a fierce tigress.However, an underlying fear that silently gnawed within her was whether she did enough for Arjun. She did not seek va

Vasu worked as a nanny at the Mirchandani household.Her husband Dheeraj started off as a handyman of the house and over time had risen to the post of the most trusted driver of Mr.Akash Mirchandani,founder and MD of the biggest auto manufacturing company in the city.Akash was married to Ria for 8 years and they had a happy,energy bunny,Om who was all of 6.Ria was a fitness enthusiast and a celebrated socialite.          On the morning of December 21st,Dheeraj came on duty in his crisp white uniform,polished black shoes,his oiled hair neatly combed with a side parting.He requested the housekeeper to see Ria.Ria stepped into the Sun Porch,dressed in her gym clothes,ready to hit the Pilates studio.She greeted Dheeraj with a Good Morning."Good morning Madam,ek request thi.Aaj Vasu aur muzhe jaldi chutti mil sakti hai?6 baje tak nikal sake, to bhi chalega.Aaj thoda special din hai."Ria chuckled,"Kya special hai?""Aaj hamari shadi ko 2 saal hue Madam.Aur ek baat puchni thi,kya aaj office me

Her Abbujaan had a concussion and Fatima could not bear the thought of not being by his side as he inched closer to his end.She had not seen her father for the last 10 years,not even when she lost Nouman,her husband in an unfortunate road accident.For the last 8 years,Fatima had single handedly raised Ahmed in the once foreign land which she now called home;Birmingham.Gayathri had always been just a house away for Fatima.Fatima made a quick dash and filled her in on the situation.The only thing Gayathri asked Fatima to pack in Ahmed's bag was his asthma inhaler,the rest as she said would be taken care of.A tight hug later,Fatima was gone.Ahmed who was all of 9 was more than happy to spend the next few days at his best friend;Raghu’s home,the cherry on the cake being Gayathi Aunty's crispy dosas for breakfast every morning.Ahmed and Raghu were waiting with bated breath for the weekend.They were going to watch a live cricket match for the first time in their lives at Edgbaston and that too,India Vs Pakist

The Laburnum and the Gulmohar Tree grew next to each other.One lucky day, they both dropped a seed each into the warm, moist soil below.A plant began to sprout.In a few years, it bore its first few flowers.One beaming yellow, one crimson orange.Soon, the bright sisters became the pride and joy of their family.Time rolled by and they chose their own path to travel on.When they fell in love and started their own families.The little flowers blossoming from them, bore semblance but they now grew on separate trees. They were called cousins.Over years of pollination and germination, cousins turned from second to third to Unknown.Yet, one day in the early months of Summer, two trees,One Laburnum growing along the bustling main road of Pune.And,One Gulmohar, now called Royal Poinciana, growing in a quiet suburb of Brisbane, blossomed.Never before had anyone seen, clusters of Beaming yellow and Crimson orange flowers swaying in unison.Wise, old Nature had wisdom to share.The core strength of a rela

New Beginnings in Mid LifeWe all became friends by fluke.While I was doing my masters in the US, on my first trip back home, I had inadvertently picked up a Black and Tan Samsonite bag from the luggage belt at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport.I never bother checking the name on baggage tag and in my defence that bag looked like mine.Unfortunately, only on opening it, did the goof up dawn on me.On reaching for my phone, I bumped into twelve missed calls from an unknown number.When I returned the call, a frantic female voice squeaked in.“You have my Samsonite travel case. I mean, I really hope you have it.Do you have it?”I was cheap enough to say, “Sorry, wrong number” in an earnest voice and cracked up, sensing the nervous wreck on the other side.That was my first brush with my steadfast, crazy girl friend Manali or Man for all of us.Man was a tall, strong girl with an aquiline nose, bunny rabbit incisors and a stylish pixie cut.When she arrived home to exchange the luggage

Manju’s entry into the world was perniciously timed with her mothers exit. Post the tumultuous delivery of daughter number 3; Manju’s father and his family had stormed out of the village Mission hospital, leaving behind the few minutes old, scrawny Manju to be welcomed with nothing but a frail and wailing grandmother.    Manju’s grandmother worked hard to make ends meet with the additional burden bestowed upon her by God.Manju grew up to be a quiet and responsible child.Although her granny took good care of her,Manju felt a sense disgust about her self.She often wished to feel beautiful, but neither her appearance nor her circumstances, gave her any reason.The only time Manju’s heart would flutter was when she watched their next door neighbour, Laxmi akka at the village chowk eating Pani puris!Something about her face would change with every burst of the crunchy puri in her mouth.Even the mogra strings in AKKA’s glistening,oil braided hair looked more beautiful while sh

After being neck deep in completing her presentation for 32hours without a wink, Riddhi decided to head straight to Nook; a nearby Restobar. She definitely needed a stiff one, before hitting the sack.Meandering through the packed restaurant to her usual bar stool, her eye caught a couple of familiar faces.It was a mother- daughter duo from her building, probably waiting for the man of the house to join them for dinner.As soon as Riddhi waved across to them, the young mother distracted her little daughter to look away in another direction.Riddhi was fully aware that within the conservative walls of her building compound, her care a damn lifestyle and reckless ways were frowned upon.Not being rattled at all, she ordered her Taslisker double on the rocks and munched away on the accompanying soya chips and almonds. Deciding to forgo dinner, she called for an Uber and moved into the open patio for a quick smoke.Vandana and her very sleepy six year old were looking for a rickshaw to get back home. Riddhi offered th

Divya was turning 17.This was her first year away from her family.Back home, birthdays meant a fragrant string of jasmine flowers, snugly perched over her tightly oiled bun of thick black hair.She would visit the local deity to seek blessings and her mother would prepare rice and jaggery kheer; a staple at all family celebrations.Besides this, her birthday was like any other day of her life.This year however, there was a vibe of uncertainty.Divya was in Banglore, a big city.She was not with her own family.Clearly, the local deity or the kheer was not even in the picture.In fact, no body around her was even aware of her birthday.She had gotten used to sweeping away these emotional nudges.She woke up, had her bath, prepared dabba for the kids of the household, made tea for the family, pulled out the eggs, bread, cereals, peanut butter for everybody’s breakfast and went to wake the kids up for school.Never before was their bedroom door locked!She gently knocked on it and called out to the older kid, Risha.