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Celebrating Navratri? Stop now as we have no right to worship the female form...

Today my mom asked me to go get fall bidding done for her new saree. Navratri has begun and Durga Pujo is just around the corner. This year we are planning to go Pandal hopping on a Saptami instead of an Ashtami or Navmi to avoid the jams and the crowds. I will wear a saree too and my Punjabi husband will tag along for the delicious food.
In a multicultural household like mine, most festivals are a big deal, especially Navratri and Durga Pujo. But in the hullabaloo of festivities, we don’t stop to think of its essence – why do we celebrate Durga Pujo or Navratri at all. To celebrate Ma Shakti – a prompt answer from my mother. Navratri is a celebration of the nine stages of womanhood – a tribute to the power of the female.But to us commoners, it is a festival of dancing to the tunes of Garba or dandiya or Bollywood music. It is our turn to wear our best clothes, head out in the night, meet family and be merry. And once, this is over, the female form goes back to being what they always a…
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What you get when you get a Dog...

Of moist wet noses and itchy ears, Pinpricks as bites and scratchy burs.
Ticks and twists, trips and tears, Licks and nips, and soulful stares.
Of woofs, barks and soft growls, Ruined furniture and empty food bowls.
Of smelly poop and slippery pee, Cuddly hugs, kisses and so much glee!
Of sleepless nights and dreamless mornings, When endless walks in the park become your calling.
Of wagging tails and adorable paw shakes, Shedding hair, rollovers, and shakes.
Of crashing dins and chasing leaves, Bring one home and you’ll never grieve.

Guilty promises

Her eyes, those big orbs of hazel, nestled in the caramel-like outer circle, were bewitching. He could stare at them all day. They were warm and inviting. When he saw her looking at him or she looked up at him, his heart ached… how the hell did he ever get so lucky?
Her eyes were his secret maze – he would get lost in them often, in solitude. They intrigued him as if wondering what was on her mind. Did she think of him often? Did he occupy all her thoughts?
Her soulful gaze never failed to weaken him.


Leaving for work, he felt sorry; for her as well as himself. He felt a sharp pain of guilt overcome his senses. He almost shut the door but stopped and turned around. “Darling, I am so sorry but I have to go. This is a work thing and you know our lives depend on it. But I promise you, I will spend more time with you. I will take you on the hiking trip I have been talking about for ages this weekend. Please… I mean it! Take care and see you soon…”
Saying his goodbyes, he shut the door and wa…

Love, loss, and longing Part II

Days had turned into weeks. This time around she was really annoyed and he would have to up his game if he wanted her back. She was his comfort zone. In her, he could forget the atrocities of the world. She had accepted him, nurtured him and loved him. While he loved everything he did for her, he knew there would be a price for it. He was well prepared for it. He would do whatever it took to keep her in his life. 


Heck, he had repainted his room even. Yeah, it was blue but if the women had their way, everything would have been pretty pink. She had wanted something else though…
He had run out of cigarettes and had to walk up to the new paan wala three blocks away. He couldn’t face the ones in his area as he owed them too much money. They would cuff him if they found him. But he was safe…
It took him a while to walk back. He passed many street Phool Walas who sold fragrant Mogra, Tagore flowers and lilies. He would buy them for her someday. But today was not the day. He had been waiti…

Love, loss, and longing Part I

The walls were blue; a shade darker than powder blue I think. It was his choice and so it had to be blue. The paint job though was haphazard. Another one of his ideas for sure. He was always trying to prove he could do it all. Asshole. Now the room was freshly painted, yes, but uneven. The brushstrokes were crisscross or horizontal at places. Very typical of him. Surely he would have forgotten the pattern each time he took his cigarette break.



There was no easy way to do this. The confrontation could not be avoided for long. Things had simmered over days and now… before they burnt down everything, she had to come to a decision. The old dank hallway ahead seemed endless. The lone bulb on the third door on the right-hand side was on its last leg; it would die out soon.
The only light that distinguished this dump from a bottomless pit was the entrance. Taxis zipped by and hawkers hollering for their wares added a sense of normalcy. Unlike the silence within, this din was welcome. It w…