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They follow my trail

Thursday, 18 April 2013


Recently a colleague asked when I found time to write. I mentally smirked realising that she hadn’t checked the date on my post. It was eons ago. Nevertheless she had enjoyed the post and re-reading it, I realised that I had enjoyed writing it. Does this mean that I am back to blogging regularly? Not sure about that.

I have moved on. No, not away from Ire but into a new house that affords me more storage space! Yes, it is exactly four minutes and 26 seconds away from where I lived previously. I have no remorse leaving behind the old. This is my new mantra of sorts, making peace with what I have and not should have been and should have had.

Anyways back to why I am writing here. Two things happened in the recent past and got me thinking (believe you have no idea how many things I just brush away! :P).

First, my previous maid suddenly disappeared one day. She never turned up for work two days in a row. A very happy husband exclaimed, “jaan chhooti” but hey who was going to do the dishes? This made him ask the landlords who informed a little too late that she had fought with her husband. That’s it? That terrible woman had left me in a lurch! What with office work, cooking and now cleaning the house too? I would have to do it all. This was my reaction.

Three days later she turns up and entered smiling shyly. I mentally thanked my lucky stars and questioned her where she had been. She first said she wasn’t well. To this, losing my patience, I said that a silly fight with the husband is no reason to bunk work. No reaction from so I let it go. However, in a minute she spilled the entire story.

Her husband was a drunk and a wife beater. They had fought over some petty issues and he had hit her. The beating got out of hand so her brother had to intervene. They registered a police complaint as well. This caused her husband to throw her out and their five children. It took her two days to recover and move into a smaller house closer to her brother’s place. The husband hadn’t called or apologised.

I was a little embarrassed with my earlier behaviour and offered her tea. Two days later she announced that she was moving back. My loud ‘why’ interrupted her smile so lowering her gaze she replied, “My elder daughter is very attached to her father. She went back the next day. How do I leave her alone with him? The world is not good enough for a young girl to live alone with a man. Plus, he is a drunk and a man who drinks doesn’t see any difference between a woman and a daughter when he is intoxicated.”

I don’t think I reacted for a few seconds. My maid did not trust her husband; her children’s father with their daughter. The very idea her thoughts painted had me dizzy and made me want to throw. She and I did not discuss this again.

My new landlady was kind enough to make sure we had a maid before we settled in. This is how I met Jasmine. When I was expecting a lady to walk in, I was surprised to open the door to a little girl. With a nervous smile she came in early in the morning and went on how she wanted badly to work for us. However, hubby and I had our suspicions – we did not want to hire an underage girl.

Day 2 – when I asked Jasmine how old she was, she quickly replied she wouldn’t know. Rubbishing her answer I asked how could that be possible and she was like I came here when I was very little. Only my mom who is in the village can really tell you how old I am. We dropped it for the day.

Day 3 – we had to settle how much we would pay her so I asked if her didi would drop by so that we could discuss. Again, she was quick to reply that her did was busy and I could pay her whatever I deemed fit.
It has been a week. My questions have stopped. School, education, food, her village etc. she always gave me random answers which won’t add up. So we have dropped it altogether. Don’t know if it is right on my part to let her continue. If I ask her to leave, landlady might throw her out as well.

What would you do in a situation like this?

Sunday, 17 March 2013

Pricey Promotion - Write over the Weekend 15th March 2013 submission


A young executive was nervously biting her nails… her much-awaited promotion came at a price. In the past one year she had slogged hard, working late into the nights, completing presentations and reports, missing out on sleep and what not. She had a tough start, what with not being an MBA from the IVY league of colleges and a woman at that, she knew had to impress.

She reported to work on time, worked on holidays as well. No relationships, no social-dos apart from the office parties and meetings. She had missed her best friend’s nuptials too. All this sacrifice to only climb up the corporate ladder, a much-deserved promotion and a great pay check; this is what her life had been about since the day she started working here.

God knows how difficult it had been to stave off distractors, especially the guy who sat just opposite her cubicle. There had been a few smiles, stolen glances, chance meetings at the coffee machines. He was nice, nope, he was hot! Lust worthy. How she wished he would ask her out! She was nice looking too - medium height, but slim and wavy hair falling well behind her shoulders. She knew he was single and had a thing for her. Rumours or speculations about romances spread fast. But rumours can do a lot more…

In her quest to get to the top, she had to work closely with her immediate superior. He was a good looking guy too. He was smart, immaculate and meticulous too. Over the months she had come to respect him. And for this respect, she defended him too in front of her colleagues. Whenever she did so, people just smirked and the conversation came to a halt. Well, they were simply jealous of his achievements she had concluded. Little did she know what the smirk actually meant…

It was the night of the Annual office party, held at one of the best five star hotels in the city. Just the other day her crush had accidently or not, mentioned that he loved red. Now with this little piece of information, she made sure she turned up in red. He had smiled when he noticed her but he was busy with his group. She had caught the twinkle in his eye from across the room and blushed from top to toe. It had been promising and she had decided she would ask him out if he didn’t do it tonight.

But life had other plans. Just as she was recovering her boss walked up to her and asked her for a dance. This was a social norm and she agreed. Talking his hand, she stepped onto the dance floor. It was a formal do and they danced in the ballroom fashion. Soon she realised he was pitch drunk. His hand held her waist a little too tightly for her comfort. Yet, she complied. Soon his hand tried to grab her butt and she overstepped his foot. Excusing herself, she stepped down and walked towards the gallery. Her crush spotted her heading that way and he followed. But her boss got there sooner.

She had stepped out in the open to gather her thoughts. She was pacifying herself that he only did so because he was drunk. He would recover…just then the boss stormed in and forced her into his arms. Before she could say or do something, he had kissed her full on the mouth. What was worse that her crush had to witness this. He just walked away muttering an apology for interrupting.

She was horrified. This was her boss. Pushing him aside she reasoned with him that she was his colleague and it was wrong. But the drunken man was not let off easily. She stopped her.

“I thought you wanted your promotion…”
“I do…”
“Then this is a part of the bargain!”
“What? Rubbish…I have worked hard all these months and I deserve it!”
“Ha! Really, you think you do? Just hard work isn't going to get you anywhere. Your work is good but if you want your due you better come home with me tonight and we can discuss your future”

She was shocked beyond words and walked out of the party. She had noticed the hurt look her crush had…
“Natasha…” her boss called breaking her chain of thoughts. “I thought I asked you to come to my cabin,” he said as he walked to her cubicle. He was louder today. A menacing look on his face. She prayed for knees to support her. He lowered his head into her cubicle, trying to get as close to her, “we have to discuss your future…”

This was it. It was the last straw. On one had there was this promotion and this lecherous man, and on the other, there was her integrity. “Oowwwww,” her boss let out an anguishing yelp. “You bitch you burnt my face! You will pay for this…”

Yes. She would pay for this and a lot more. She had decided she would quit and the scalding hot cuppa of coffee splashed on his face only made it worth it. She would not let go of her integrity.
Leaving a room full of shocked colleagues and a much burnt ass of a boss, she gracefully walked herself to the HR’s cabin.


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Friday, 15 February 2013

Practical Love


Men have it tough, I think. Anniversaries, birthdays or days like Valentine’s Day. Women, including me, expect flowers or some random gift. But a special day doesn’t get any ‘more’ special because your man got you flowers.

I realised this yesterday. I have been pestering him about flowers and a card since my birthday. Include a surprise cake to this as well. So since November, it has been my birthday, anniversary and now of course, the Valentine’s Day. Yesterday, however, he did surprise me; he got me a small bouquet of flowers. Pretty yellow Gerberas. I was delighted and suddenly it dawned on me that I was unnecessarily bugging him about flowers while I am not into them so much. I love yellow as it makes me happy. I hate red roses. I was more touched by the fact that he actually stopped to get me a bouquet in heavy traffic and he wasn’t well.

Yes, this is mushiest and the most romantic thing ever to me. And it instantly reminded me of Wendy Cope’s ‘Flowers’. Lovely poem and so romantic…in a practical way of course!



Flowers by Wendy Cope
Some men never think of it
You did. You'd come along
And say you'd nearly bought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts-
The sort that mind like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly bought
Have lasted all this while.

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