Tuesday, February 10, 2015


The window to her hospital room opened out to nothing. The dreary curtains and the pale white walls did nothing to elevate her spirits. The nausea and pain had become a constant. Her doctor who tried to seem hopeful, wasn't. The sounds of the hospital, the change of shifts, the beep of the machines, a part of her life. It was that pink rose that was replaced every day beside her bed that made her heart soar. And his voice that read out to her and comforted her. The love she felt. The hope that the love brought with it.  

An attempt at a Drabble : a 100 word story :)

Saturday, January 10, 2015


Shravya alias "Shraavs", as her friends called her, was the life of 9th standard section A. She was intelligent, funny, good at sports and studies, dancing, public speaking, and was popular. She always smiled and sported a smart short haircut. She always wore a neatly washed and ironed uniform and carried an expensive school bag. She always had a group of girls around her at school. The teachers liked her a lot. She volunteered for everything and helped when she could. She was a part of the NSS and the interact club. It felt good be liked by everyone. Her juniors admired her. Her seniors acknowledged her. She was a very happy girl.

But not today. Today she was angry. She had not even changed out of her uniform. She sat and sulked in her room. For the first time she had been asked to go to the Principal's room, not to be congratulated but to be punished. And it was all because of that new girl, Vaishnavi. That quiet girl who did as well as she did in studies. The one who sat in the in the first row and competed to answer all the questions that the teachers asked in class. The one with her hand always raised up in class. The one who wore second hand faded uniforms and came with her long hair well oiled, plaited, folded and tied with white ribbons. The one who came walking to school with an old school bag and hand me down books. She was the one who ratted on her.

The thing about Shraavs, was that she loved competition. And challenges. There were two gangs in the class. One was hers, of course. The other was Anu's. They were the ones who always played the pranks and spent most of their time in school waiting outside the Principal's office. Sat in the last bench. And competed with her in the culturals. This was one occasion that Anu had challenged her to play a prank. If there was one thing Shraavs could not resist, it was a challenge. There was nothing she could not do. Or so she believed.

It was unfortunate that, though the prank was executed to perfection, the principal decided to enter the class precisely at that moment to speak to the teacher. The whole class had stood silent in fear. The only one who had spoken was Vaishnavi. Told her the complete story. And she, Shraavs, the darling of the class, had been punished.

Her mom came into the room. "What happened?" she asked.

After explaining Shravya said, "Not one person said a thing. She had to open her mouth ...mom!! If she had kept quiet I would not have been embarrassed in front of all my friends and got punished too!! I have never been punished in school!!"

Her mom put her hand on her shoulder and said, "But you did do something wrong. And she was just being truthful. It takes a lot of guts to speak the truth. Let it go."

This just made her more angry. Shravya shouted,"So you support her too!! I don't care if she was right....I hate her!!"

She went out of her way to make Vaishnavi miserable at every opportunity from that day on. She would make fun of the way she looked, her old books, her bag, the way she walked, talked and how she sat and studied at lunch and at any free time she got.

It was the half yearly exams. The students were busy discussing maths formulae before entering the examination hall. They settled in their seats numbered in their roll number order. An hour passed. All the girls were engrossed in their papers. The examiner who was walking up and down the hall suddenly stopped next to Shravya, bent down, and picked up a small folded piece of paper that was lying on the floor next to her foot.

"Shravya, what is this?" asked the examiner, as she opened the piece of paper that, much to her shock, contained a list of formulae.

"Ma'am! its not mine", exclaimed Shravya. "I would never do such a thing. I promise its not mine." She cried, tears streaming out of her eyes.

The whole hall stood in stunned silence. "Ma'am, I did not do this. I don't know how that paper came there. I promise. Its not mine." she cried, as she looked around for support. Not a soul budged. No one had believed her. All those friends who were around her all the time, the teachers who had adored her, her classmates who complimented her on every thing...were all quiet.

One calm voice spoke up, "It was not her. I saw who did it." The voice said. Vaishnavi walked towards the examiner and said, "Ma'am, it was not her. I sit two rows behind. I saw what happened. I'd rather not mention the name in front of everyone. May I please come with you to the Principal's office?" she asked.

The examiner nodded and they walked out of the hall. Another teacher took her place and asked them to continue to write the exam. Vaishnavi joined them ten minutes later. Shravya was shaking. She could not believe what had just happened. She turned around and looked at Vaishnavi over her shoulder. She was writing furiously and did not look up. Tears rolled down her eyes as she tried to get back to writing the exam. She waited outside the exam hall for Vaishnavi to finish. They had given her extra time to finish the paper to compensate for the time lost.

As Vaishnavi walked out...Shravya rushed to her. "Thank you. I mean it. I am sorry for all that I said and did to you in the last few weeks. I was being horrible. I was angry. But I am glad you spoke up today. I can't believe no one else even supported me. thanks thanks thanks....will you even consider being friends with me? I know I have been bad...", she continued rambling, "but please...i will make it up to you. I would love to have you as my friend." she looked into Vaishnavi's eyes as she spoke.

Vaishnavi smiled her quiet smile and said, "Of course, but you have to put up with all the truth I tell."

Both of them laughed. "Hmmm....you could say I am a friendly foe...can you? By the way...that's an oxymoron. How have you prepared for tomorrow's English exam? You want to study together?" asked Vaishnavi.

Shraavs nodded. "Sure Vaishu...my friendly foe" she said as they laughed and shook hands.

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

This week’s WOW prompt is ‘A Foe Turned Friend’.

Saturday, January 3, 2015


The "Sarathy" tea stall always had customers. It was situated in the corner of the street. The street that led to the entrance of a huge IT park. The tea and coffee were certified excellent by several senior level officers who worked at the many IT companies in the IT park. They served hot vadas, samosas and pakodas. They made a variety of sandwiches and sold cut fruits too. And of course the usual snacks and titbits. The only thing different was that they did not sell cigarettes. The man behind the show..the owner was an unusually tall man, with a large mustache, who always wore a big smile on his face. His name was Sarathy. He looked as if he belonged somewhere else.

But he is not the one we need to talk about. It was Hari. His assistant. He joined the tea shop when he was 7. To help his mother with finances. He was now almost 20 and had learned all he could from Sarathy. He was adept at making tea, coffee and several varieties of snacks. He knew all the customers by name and how they liked their tea or coffee, what where their favorite snacks and when they came for a break. He was honest, hardworking and kind.

This January was an important month for him. One of the regular customers of the tea shop, a certain Mr. Ashok, had got him a job at a new restaurant which was looking for in house help, for hard working, honest boys like him. But it was a job where he had to stay at the restaurant, away from his mom and sister. And Sarathy of course. He had no intention of leaving the tea stall and Sarathy. But it was a good offer. It was Sarathy that convinced him to go.

As he sat and ate dinner with his family the night he had to leave, he looked around his house. A small two room house with asbestos roofing, had one room that had all their belongings neatly put away on an open shelf and a small wooden cupboard that had survived for several years, the other doubled as a kitchen and puja room. They had to share the common toilets and baths in the small colony of houses they stayed in. His sister attended the local corporation school. His mom was house help. In three houses to be precise. He had packed the one pair of faded jeans he owned along with 3 shirts, and all of his few worldly possessions in a bag that was gifted by Sarathy.

His drunken father sat at the door step, yelling words of abuse at his mom and him. This was not new. They ate as he continued to yell, words getting worse. And then he spoke badly of his mom's character! As Hari got up in anger, his mom held him back, and gave him a look which said 'its not worth it'.

He resolved to get his mom and sister the life they deserved. This new job was his first step. His mother smeared holy ash on his forehead and his little sister gave him a hug. He left, asking his mom to take care of her health and promising to send her money regularly.

He stepped out into the night. on a journey. A journey built on the past. A journey a brighter future.

Several years later...Hari dragged Sarathy into the IT park. His mom and sister followed. Sarathy had put up quite a fight to be blindfolded. Its tough to make a man of his build to do your bidding. He did finally comply at the request of Hari's mom.

They walked into the food court in one of the huge buildings. Hari came to a halt in front of one of the stalls. He put Sarathy in front of it and opened his blind fold. This is ours, Hari said. Sarathy's eyes filled with tears as he lifted Hari off his feet to give him a bear hug. Hari's sister laughed and his mother smiled.

The sign board read "SARATHY TEA STALL'.

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

This week you have to write on ‘January, Jeans and Journey’.
January is a month that spells freshness and the chance to do something in a new way. No wonder that we are infused with a new energy throughout the month. We are teaming January with ‘Jeans’, which are so commonplace that we take their presence and comfort for granted. We’re hoping that you take these words and set off on a ‘Journey’ of blogging that people will love to be a part of!

Wednesday, October 29, 2014


I leaned against the pillar of the Gazebo. I stretched my legs out and sighed. I closed my eyes as a cool breeze blew around me. The wind made lovely swishing noises as it blew between the coconut trees and several other trees that were planted across the grove.

The winding path between the trees were laid in cobble stone, lined on either side with dwarf like shrubs. Rays of sunshine filtered through the trees lighting up the place with a subtle glow. Flowers of several colors that blossomed here and there swayed lightly in the breeze.

While a few birds were flying here and there, trying to build a nest, others hopped around making chirping noises. Squirrels chased each other, butterflies fluttered from flower to flower and dragon flies zoomed past.

A man made waterfall right behind where I was sitting made gurgling noises as the water flowed into a small shallow pool filled with water lilies. Ducks, big and small, swam around in the water.

I heard the gush of water as the gardener watered the plants and as the water fell to the warm ground I inhaled the divine smell that arose all around me.

As I tune in to the peace and calm around me, I feel myself relax and take a deep breath.

I open my eyes to the cool breeze of the Air conditioner in my office. The beep on my phone. The sounds of the printer, fax machine and copier. The honk of cars caught in the traffic just outside my office on the flyover. The hammering and drilling noises from the construction going on in the floor above.

My colleague walks into my cubicle smiling..."dreaming again?" she asks, as she leaves a bunch of files on my desk. I grin to myself as I sit up and get back to work.

Sunday, May 25, 2014


Anu was jumping up and down excitedly. But then..she does that all the time. :) My almost three year old daughter, all smiles, was getting ready to go to the hospital.  No No...there is nothing wrong with her..don't worry. I was the one getting admitted.

"Got your bag, kanna(term of endearment)?" I asked.

"yes, Yes", she nodded. "story book, crayons, water bottle, snack box, Tigger and..."

"Anu"...called her father, "Its getting late, let's go"

We pile into our black I10. Anu gets into the back seat with her grandmother.

"Amma, Amma, FLOWERS, TREES, DOG, COW" she jumps in glee..At the stage where she is learning to talk, indentifying things is her new favourite hobby. "Amma, amma...red flower, red, red!!, AMMA AMMA, blue sky!!" her voice high and filled with awe. "Very good, very good", I encourage.

Nature is magic, is it not?
The sky, the sea, the hills, the air,
The animals, birds and everything else,
Beauty, beyond compare.

"Anu, sweetheart, you need to sit down. Paati(grandma) can't hold you like I do." I beg. I was not in a position to hold her in the front seat.

"Amma, song?" She chimes, and sits down, much to my relief.

I turn on the music. An array of Disney songs play. The lion king, Toy story, Cinderella,  Pocahontas, Frozen and many more. Anu sways to the tune, smiles and claps her hand. "Amma, Amma, Hakuna Matata.."she grins. She loves that song. I smile to myself and can't help thinking "No worries...for the rest of your life" :)..I sigh.

Music is magic, knows no language,
The books and movies we can find,
Art and all such things,
All Creativity of the human mind.

The car seems to get hotter. I turn up the airconditioner. As the new gust of air circulates within the car, Anu exclaims "Amma, AMMA...wind wind!!" and turns her face in that direction, trying to catch it on her face.

I smile to myself and shift uncomfortably. "Are you ok?" Anu's father asks. I just pat his hand in response.

Science and Technology is magic,
Brilliance it does show,
Discoveries and Inventions galore,
What does not man know?

We reach the hospital. We park and get down from the car. A woman is sweeping the leaves scattered all over the parking lot. Her son, a small boy in a pair of well worn shorts is walking behind her crying. Anu stops. "Amma", she says, "baby, crying". She opens her bag and pulls out a chocolate, walks to the boy and gives it to him. She smiles and runs back to us. Her dad picks her up and hugs her. I give her a peck on the cheek.

Kindness is magic,
the good feeling it brings,
So is love, generosity, empathy and such,
They just tug at your heart strings.

We settle down in the room allotted to me. Anu too settles down in the additional bed in the room with her bag and keeps herself busy. The operation date and time was preset. As we waited, Anu fell asleep. She looked peaceful and calm, her hand wrapped tightly around Tigger. She smiled in her sleep.

Dreams are magic,
Visions of the future of ours,
Our wishes they project,
Hope and faith our powers.

I am taken from the room for the procedure.  I hug Anu and tell her to be good. That I will be back really soon. She smiles and nods. I tell her father to take care of her and to give her the food I packed. He reassures me, and tells me not to worry.

Relationship is magic,
It wills one to live,
To survive, to push,
To succeed, to give.

An hour later, I am back. Anu and her father sit by me, holding affectionately our newest member of our family. "Amma, Amma", Anu smiles, "baby, brother" she says, carefully touching the baby with one finger. Tears stream down my eyes as hormones take over.

Birth is a miracle,
From just a single cell,
A whole new life,
Its amazing as hell!!

I look at Anu's father. The man who married me. I was divorced. So was he. He had a daughter from his first marriage. I loved both of them to bits.

The power of the human mind is magic,
To withstand betrayal and pain,
The power to forgive and move on,
To start again.

I am brought back to the present as I hear Anu say, "Amma, amma"..."Conshoons"..I look up quizzically and her father clarifies "Congratulations!". She hands me an envelope. I open in to find a hand drawn (scribbled) card and words in her father's handwriting. As I hug her tightly, tears stream down my eyes as I thank god for his blessings.

God is the greatest magician,
His creations are amazing.
Innumerable to mention,
His praises I sing.

Magic is everywhere. Its all around us. Its the way we see things. To me...Magic is life...as seen through the eyes of my little one. Without prejudice, with awe, with enthusiasm, without expectations, with courage, with faith.

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

Your post has to revolve around the word Magic! What does it mean to you? What is it that is magical according to you?

Friday, May 16, 2014


I am a bit averse to technology. One might say I peacefully coexist and restrict myself to minimal use of it. That is not the case with my husband and my two year old too!! They revel in using the "latest" gadgets... phone, ipad..you name it..and they've mastered it. 

My husband, Rahul, is an "online" person and is active on facebook, twitter et al.  He is the one who created my mail and facebook account and I am almost never online.(my two year old is not social networking yet!! thankfully)

One day, I get a call from my husband post lunch from his office.  "I need you to urgently change the password of our netbanking for my salary account. The bank has updated its software." he says. "I am heading out for a meeting and the old password is written in my diary. you know where to find it."

Before I could utter a word of protest ...I got cut off.

I murmured to myself as I switched on the laptop, and placed his diary next to it. My sleepy two year old was jumping on the bed. "Careful!!" I yelled.

I took a deep breath..here goes. 

Fortunately, the bank's website was on the "favorites list". I gingerly clicked on the link. I entered the user name and password as mentioned in the diary and waited....

The page loaded on to the screen.  I read carefully all the options mentioned and finally found the link to change the password. Phew!! Meanwhile my little one decided to drag pillow by pillow and stack it next to the mirror on our cupboard. 

Enter old password : **********

That was easy :)

Enter new password:

I thought...hmm..

A date or a number,
A word or a name,
Rare and tough,
This is quite a game.

I think of a name and enter it.

"New password has to be more than 8 characters"

Said the site...Fine. I think.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my son opening the draw and pulling out clothes one by one and admiring them before placing them carefully on the floor. God let me do this fast.

A word that's different,
Or a combination would be better,
that's not easy to guess,
A word that's bigger.

I enter the new password.

"Password should contain at least 1 number"  

was the message I got. ok...

An alphanumeric password,
Is what I need,
The word and a birth date,
And will be done, my deed.

I enter my new password..

"Password should contain at least one Capital letter and one special character"

Now I am losing it! My little one is scouting the room trying to figure out what to do next.

Our first car number,
The date we first met,
The day our child was born,
The more confusing this does get.

His favorite movie,
Or singer or a band?
An anagram or formula :)
Not anything too grand.

I finally settle on a combination of letters, numbers and special characters. Thankfully, the site accepted it. I noted it down in the diary, thanking god the site did not ask for a sacrifice, the blood of a unicorn and the tears of a mermaid for my password to be accepted.

I sigh. Shutdown the laptop. I turn around to look at the room which is a complete mess. In the middle of the heap of clothes and pillows my two year old is blissfully sleeping. I smile to myself as I move my child to the bed.

I then pick up the phone and call my husband. The minute the phone is answered, I say "I did it!!" all excited to have achieved something. "This is the new password "************". I even wrote it down."

"err...ma'am", I hear another voice over the phone. "This is Rahul's colleague speaking, he left his phone at his seat, please hold on for a minute".

My husband comes on the line and says, "What is wrong with you? Never tell out passwords on cell phones or text messages or mails. Its not safe. Change it once more!!"

I take one look at the room, my sleeping child and the laptop. 


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

Your post has to revolve around everything that came to your mind when you had to create your first ever password!

Friday, May 9, 2014


As I sat tensed at my school lab during an exam because I forgot my record note book at home, an attender hands it to me and points outside....my MOM, my savior.

As I sang on stage, was in a play, gave a speech, or was just even a prop, my mom was in the audience cheering for me..my MOM, my fan.

As I fell sick, when I hurt myself, when i burned with fever, when i threw up what I ate, my mom held me..my MOM, my healer.

As I sat confused, angry, dissapointed, muddled over a decision, small or big, my mom was there, to talk to and resolve...my MOM, my mentor.

I see my mom stand strong in tough times, always there not only to support but to stop us too, held the family together, cared and shared, an unlimited source of patience, energy and inspiration...my MOM, my hero.

This time we’re having at a mother’s day special! Your post must contain the wordMOM and you have just 5 sentences to complete your story.

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