In a world where humans find it difficult to feel empathetic towards other humans, there is this tribe, led by a fearless woman, who have dedicated their entire lives to the betterment of the lives of animals. Imagine waking up each day, going out in the world, finding animals who are in pain; and in pain meaning, hit by running vehicles, stuck in the oddest of the places, tortured by humans, injured in inexplainable manners, broken limbs, oozing organs, victims of gory violent minds, or simply abandoned with nowhere to go. Basically, sights that can make us sick in our stomachs. To find such animals, irrespective of whether they are domestic, wild, reptiles, venomous etc, comfort them, treat them right there or by bringing them back to the RESQ facility, where they are fed, cared for, operated upon if necessary, loved, healed, seen to it that they recover, only to, release them back into their natural habitat or to give them up for adoption so that they find the love they are worthy of. All this and

“You know what? Teenage is such an interesting phase of life! When we were in our teens, our minds were pure and hearts innocent. Our life was like a random stone from which we would try and carve out a beautiful sculpture. We had no responsibilities to shoulder. We didn’t have to think before we spoke. We were like free birds, wild, strong, and fearless.” I was talking to one of my dearest school friends. Thanks to the lock down and Facebook, we were able to get in touch after thirteen long years. We spoke about our respective lives after school, our perceptions about life, and about our ambitions. We also discussed about our respective marriages. “Anyway, tell me, what is the one thing you would want to do if you could go back to your school days?” She asked. “Confess my feelings to my first love - my school crush.” I replied without any hesitation. “You liked someone in school! I did not expect that!” She was surprised. “You know, during our

    Dev and Naina were celebrating their ninth anniversary today. This one, for a change, they had decided to be on their own and not take their in-laws and their seven year old daughter, Tara along with them for dinner. Every year they were surrounded by family and friends on every ‘special’ occasions be it birthdays or anniversary.  It was Naina who insisted on going with Dev alone even though he wasn’t too keen about it. They had made it through the “seven year itch’ phase of their marriage and he thought it’s going to be all smooth sail now. He felt their relation had reached a cozy comfort zone. By now he sensed everything about her with ease, even her reaction to different situations, what she thought and how she felt. He lived his life on an autopilot mode as far as the marriage was concerned. There wasn’t much thinking or newness about it. But for her, she had started to feel a pinch of monotony settling in, if not absolute boredom. Sh

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