Showing posts with label write over weekend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label write over weekend. Show all posts

Apr 13, 2014

Was it conditional love?

Tumko dekha to ye khayal aaya... She hummed along with the song on FM as she dressed. She thought how true the lyrics were for her life.  She had met Ankit when he had lost hope to live and slowly bit by bit her unconditional love had helped him gain his aim in life and a good job. What had he done for her?

A text beeped. "Baby sorry can't make it right now, urgent work!"

She threw her phone in anger. "How could he not say no for a date to her?"


Unconditional love... Or was it conditional love?


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

Also Linking it to Write tribe's 100 words on Saturday - 11 and UBC

Apr 6, 2014

Was it a trap?

I stood in front of it; mesmerized by how it functioned without flaw…it looked too right. I kept staring for a while before declaring that it was a trap.

My brother looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He, four years older than me, prided himself with knowledge of technology. Whereas, I at the age of five still wasn’t introduced to the term “Science”.

He looked at me with all the confidence and said “just do it”. Then he took my little hand and made me take a step forward.


Half jumping, really scared, even before I knew it, I was standing on a step and the escalator was safely moving.

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

Linking it Wednesday Prompt -11 at Write Tribe.

I am taking part in Ultimate Blog Challenge and A to Z Challenge this month.

Have you found Shades of Life on Facebook yet? Please check it out here

Please take out time to read more about the featured blogger for the month of April here.

Guests are always welcomed at Shades of Life. Drop me a line at sugandha118@gmail.com and I would love to share your thoughts here.

Mar 24, 2014

The greatest love...

He prided himself with his skill to open strangest locks. Trained by local goons, his skill was now an asset to the country.
So when he discovered Sally’s little box with a cute heart shape lock, he set out to his task. 

He tried to open it for hours. She at last found him, stepped in front and used her little hairpin instead of the key and it opened. Letters from her parents stored inside.

She snapped the box shut saying “the greatest love of all is of parents, and it is so strong that no one can unlock it”.
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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Linking it to Write Tribe's 100 words on Saturday

Have you found Shades of Life on Facebook yet? Please check it out here

Please take out time to read more about the featured blogger for the month of March "Aditi Kaushiva" here.

Also, check out the post by a non-blogger who penned down her feeling.


Guests are always welcomed at Shades of Life. Drop me a line at sugandha118@gmail.com and I would love to share your thoughts here.

Mar 8, 2014

Women's day - Can I please celebrate?

When it comes to International Women’s day, I can be called as a non-believer. However, now that I am part of the festival, I’d just put up my views and a few questions for you -

A text conversation -
Me: I am going for this women's day meet I told you about.
Him: K
Me: You are okay with it right?
No reply.
Me: you don't want me to go?
Him: no, go.
Me: it seems to me that you don't want.
Him: no it's okay. GO! I am busy.
Me: okay.
I go with a heavy heart.


How many women relate to similar experiences?

If I am not mistaken, many will. Why I ask?

Statistic shows that women are independent, confident as individuals, yet insecure and unsure they are in their relationships.

We might be CEO of multi-national, but we always unsure of our position in front of our partner.
If we miss a dinner, it is more guilt than sadness. If we forget an anniversary (which we rarely do) we go miles out of our way to apologize.

We seek his approval to meet new people, unsure how he'd react. We seek his permission to tattoo. We even seek his approval to get a new haircut.

We feel the need to justify our each action, even when we are not asked for explanation. We feel guilty if we spend some unexplainable time just with our selves.

Yet, we do it. We do it and justify and feel guilty and then again do it. Is it because in our hearts we know we are right but we are not assertive enough?

We gain a few pounds, we are insecure that he might fall out of love. He gains a few, we shower extra love. We make sure that he looses those kgs, but will be extremely careful to not mention it.

We do not say no to him. Literally. Be it in-bed, or out of it. We believe that there is no “no’s” in a relationship. We are pleasers and when it comes to men, we roll ourselves like a foot mat in front of his feet and take all his demands. With time some of us have learned to say “no” but then again we do it with guilt.

More often than not, I meet women who remind me of Julia Roberts of Runaway bride, whose taste in eggs changed as per her boyfriend’s taste.

There are many of us, who understand their position as an equal. There are some who do not live in that guilt. But a majority of us somewhere believe us to be “the weaker sex.”  Are we really one? Do we really need a women’s day?

This women’s day, I want to pose this question to all my female readers – “do you think of yourself as an equal in the relationship?” And to male readers – “do you think your partner is weaker than you?”



Before we go, I'd like to quote Mahatma Gandhi -


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

Have you found Shades of Life on Facebook yet? Please check it out here

Please take out time to read more about the featured blogger for the month of March "Aditi Kaushiva" here.

Also, check out the post by a non-blogger who penned down her feeling.

Guests are always welcomed at Shades of Life. Drop me a line at sugandha118@gmail.com and I would love to share your thoughts here.


Feb 21, 2014

Thus, the secret remained

“The only solace being, the secret remained.” She ended the story and turned to her side to sleep.
  
However, sleep was distant from Shekhar’s eyes. His mind played and re-played the story he just heard.

Did his wife really told her a story about an office colleague or she just narrated his best kept secret? he wondered, tossing and turning in his bed.

A college affair was something he had not bothered to mention in front of his wife ever. He thought he had put it behind him and moved on with life. He had not wished, except a few fantasy thoughts, for her to come back. Of course, she had been a catch back then, making him an unelected leader of the gang. And why wouldn’t it? He was dating not only the topper but also the most eligible bachelorette in the college. However, one bitter fight and seven years passed by without sparing a thought to what could have happened, until the day she met him again.

Shekhar wouldn’t call his marriage a love-less one exactly. He had been able to find out charm and attraction in the arranged marriage, which four years and a child later had come to a comfortable sit back. Love was no longer a priority. However, seeing Ananya after so long made him feel its absence.

It wasn’t that she was still as hot as ever. Age had not really been fair to her. But when was it her beauty that drew Shekhar towards her at the first place? Her wit and her charm, that had compelling effect on many back in college was untouched by all the unfairness life had thrown at her.

Shekhar worked with his father in-law as VP of the company, while his wife, software engineer by profession showed no interest in stock broking and continued to work for a software firm. With father in-law’s age they were running out of hands at senior level and decided to hire someone from outside. Trusting his father’s decision, Shekhar had left the hiring to him and got to meet Ananya only when he handed her the offer letter. He looked at her and felt nothing. None of those moments haunted him and he prided himself with the feeling that he could keep his past behind and be professional.

But it wasn’t as simple as it looked. Personalities like Ananya’s grow on you. As time passed by, he started getting drawn to her magnetic personality. He didn’t know anything about those seven years of her life except that she worked on Wall Street and built herself a highly credible CV and that she had a daughter.

If Ananya felt something, she never showed. She referred to him as a good friend from college and kept their relationship highly professional. Shekhar on the other hand, just wanted to talk it out with her once and he thought he would get better control over his emotions.

Travelling together for a new client meeting, Shekhar got the opportunity that wasn’t presented to him back home. He was mindful of her feelings but cleared what had gone wrong. An early widow, a successful yet lonely woman, strong and independent yet vulnerable, the more Shekhar got to know about her from where he left her, more guilt enveloped him. He was soon admitting things that he had so far restrained himself from thinking.

Love blossomed, not infiltrated by cheating on her spouse but deep meaning care and admiration flourished. Shekhar looked out for means and ways to support her help her and provide her company. Although, he was fair to his family, an un-settling thought wrestled in Shekhar’s mind.

Office was turned upside down. Some confidential information was leaked. Everyone was a suspect. Shekhar hired external agency to find out the culprit.

After eight days of search, the external agents came up with one name and presented it to the board. Ananya was fired. Shekhar was asked to supervise the handover. All files were transferred by office boys. All mails were blocked. Only an envelope was delivered personally.

It contained a single line. “If you weren’t comfortable, you could have told me. I would have resigned.”


He had lost his love, once again. He had lost his satisfaction for his job. He had lost the peace with his family. The only solace being, the secret remained.

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

Linking it to Tell a tale weekends on my blog.

Have you found Shades of Life on Facebook yet? Please check it out here

Please take out time to read more about the featured blogger for the month of February "Kathy Combs" here.

Also, check out the post by a non-blogger who penned down her feeling.

Guests are always welcomed at Shades of Life. Drop me a line at sugandha118@gmail.com and I would love to share your thoughts here.

Nov 24, 2013

Girl who introduced me to Gandhi

I once attended a local book club. We met every Saturday and read a chapter or two from the selected book. We then sat and discussed the author and the plot for about an hour. We read classics and non-fictions. Biographies were my personal favorite.

The mission of the group was to encourage more and more people to read. From what I joined as a group of four, it eventually grew to become a group of thirty five. However, as the group grew, quality of books that were read diminished.

Eventually I began to feel frustrated. I had paid up my fee for the year, but I now lost interest. The book club was not helping me any longer. Sloppy mystery books and ugly romances were not my taste.

In particular, I hated a couple of girls who could never comprehend a chapter in one go. I discussed the issue with the coordinators. They requested to join in for couple of more weeks and see if they could help. Rather than agreeing on to the first book that came their way, they requested everyone to get their selections and ask for an open voting.

One by one, each of them were presenting their suggestion. A murder mystery, a raunchy romance, all too boring. I didn’t vote for any. The only girl who was left was the quietest in the room. I sighed.


But when she presented her book, I looked up in surprise. This time, she raised the bar. She presented to us “My experiment with Truth” giving us crisp reasons to read it and gathering maximum vote.

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

Nov 15, 2013

My tattoo got me my best friend

I had my tattoo on an impulse. I was skeptical and was just “Checking out” designs when I suddenly came across the one. It seemed to fit in so perfectly with my thoughts and story of my life that I decided to go for it instantly.

A little girl, fear reflecting in her eyes, leaving her home to achieve the best of the world at a very early stage was now being etched on my back. Half-way through the tattoo, my tattoo artist and I got talking.

He told me about sketches and inspirations, various websites to designs and client suggestion. I then asked him if he designed the tattoo I was getting. He replied that he sketched it but he had seen that tattoo before, if only he could remember where. He then went on telling about all he remembers that it was on someone’s leg and was much smaller. He explained how it was one of his favorite tattoo designs in his entire career.

His idea about getting it on leg got me thinking. It sounded nice and exciting. However, I was pretty happy with my tattoo too. But damn! I was nervous.

My parents knew nothing about my new tattoo. I was scared to break the news. One evening I showed it to my cousin, and she agreed that the hell will break loose if anyone in the family got to know about it. My father was somewhat cool, but I wondered how my mother would react. She was the strict one and I had remained somewhat aloof ever since I had been a teen.

Months passed by and I became comfortable with the ink on my skin until one day when I had to wear a sari.

My mother was around and she was standing there to help me wrap those six yards in a presentable way. It was the moment of no choice. I mumbled, “Mom, I have to show you something.” And slowly turned my back towards her and pulled my top up to reveal the tattoo.

I stayed like that for a minute for her to absorb what could be a shocking revelation and then slowly turned to face the brunt. But I was amazed. There she stood, with amusing look on her face and a slight smile.

Few moments later, she pulled her sari up and reveled a tattoo, same design, but much smaller than mine.

Later, my mother showed me the original sketch and told the story of the tattoo and her life. My mother and I have been best friends since then.

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

Oct 27, 2013

Oh!I love him - 55 fiction for WOW - a tribute to AR Rahman

Oh! I love him. I said. Yeah! I love him too. My friend shrieked too, echoing my words.
It was hot, humid Sunday and we were waiting for our turn in front of the ticket counter. The ticket vendor handed over the tickets and said Wow! I love him.
It was AR Rahman’s live performance…


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out themes for creative writing each weekend for Indian bloggers.

Oct 20, 2013

The luncheon - A WOW entry

I have always believed that knowledge is divine. I have a compulsive disorder (not medically proven, but I think so) of finding out more about everything that I come across.

I like to know where my food comes from, where my clothes come from, more about the places I like, background of people I like, places I might never visit, new ways, new things, history, plans, etc. and for all of this I have one stop – “Google” the god.

I believe my world will come crashing down if this search engine stops working someday. When I come across something that I need to Google, I can’t wait. My hands twitch and I start typing the key words on my phone irrespective of the place I am (I love my Google more than a dinner date)

So here is something that makes me laugh and embarrassed at the same time. But I found this occasion to share with you all.

I was travelling to Scandinavia, and it was my first trip to Europe. I took a flight from Delhi at about two o clock at night and reached Frankfurt at ten am IST. I was so late for my connection, that I didn’t get a chance to even grab a coffee. I am one of those people who cannot eat or sleep on board, so here I was, without anything for last eight hours.

When I got out of the airport in Bilund, the bus that was supposed to take me to the city was about to leave. The next bus was after two hours. Not used to the chilly wind of November, I preferred to take that bus than to get some food and wait for two hours.

When I reached my hotel, it was about two pm GMT. So basically I had only had some four bottles of water over last seventeen hours and I don’t need to tell you that I was famished.

Hotel denied any sort of room service (and it was horribly expensive) so I, along with a colleague decided to walk down to a restaurant.

The server who came to serve us didn’t know English, and I didn’t know Danish. In some sign language and after seeking help of another customer, I tried to explain my server that I was a strict vegetarian and I didn’t take chicken, meat or fish. He nodded happily and pinpointed to a spring roll in the menu card. I trusted his decision and ordered one.

When the dish arrived it had a lot of greens inside the rolls and even on the sides. I happily finished mine within next two minutes, while my colleague struggled to finish his chicken dish.

However, there was the name of the dish that had stuck with me. The dish was called “kammusling grønt forårsrulle” which translated into scalloped veg spring roll. I believed that scalloped vegetables was a a method of cooking. But remember the Google lover in me? Sadly, my data plan didn’t work on international roaming, so I waited to find more about origin of the name scallop and about this dish when I reached hotel.

As soon as I reached hotel I Google’d the word. And two minutes later I was running to the loo, trying to puke out everything I had just consumed.

My colleague takes pleasure in narrating the incident again and again, and he always ends it by saying that when it comes to food you have already consumed, ignorance is indeed bliss he thought to himself as he saw me trying my best to puke and crying over the new found knowledge.

For those who want to know what happened, the dish is actually called scallop veg spring rolls, and scallop is type of sea food from the oyster family whose meat I had just consumed.

( I found the picture on Google, it isn't exactly how it looked, but somewhat similar.)

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out a creative writing theme each weekend for Indian bloggers.

UBC Dy 20 - Affair - 18

Priya found it difficult to work with Harsh any longer. She had seen a different dominating side of him when she visited his house. She had seen the sadness and anxiety in her friend’s eyes. On top of it, this new found information was something that she couldn’t handle.

“Ignorance indeed is bliss”, she thought to herself as she tried to push it away from her mind but her thoughts seemed to have been stuck there.

She had never made anything out of office gossip, but when the grapevine revealed that Harsh and one of their office colleagues were having an affair, she couldn’t ignore it.

On their way back, she tried to speak to Harsh about it, but she couldn’t. A part of her brain told her that it was none of her business. Another reasoned that it was about her best friend’s life.

“What is wrong with you?” Deepti tried to cajole some information from Priya.

Four of them sat at the bar. It had become more of a routine now. They were all chit-chatting but Priya found it difficult to digest the information that would shatter Deepti’s world. She tried to delay the news till she could and shrugged at the question.

However, her thoughts wouldn’t leave her. When on their way home, Deepti questioned the same thing again. Priya got serious.

Slowly she started, “Deepti, I think I have a bad news.”

Looking at Deepti’s expectant face, she continued. “I have got to know a few things about Harsh through office gossip. I don’t know if they are true. I don’t want to judge him, he seems nice. But you know, they say that he is having an affair…” her voice trailed off.

Deepti looked down and a silence stretched between the two. After a while, she said, “I know about that. I know that girl too.”

Priya was stunned. Her best friend, who had been such a big support to her, had been taking all her pain and hiding it away. She took Deepti’s hand in hers.


Deepti continued, “It has been going on for a month or so. I somehow sensed it. I had met her at one of office parties last year. I have decided to speak to Harsh about it. I want to get separated.”

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out a creative writing theme each weekend for Indian bloggers.

Linking it to my 30 part story for Ultimate Blog Challenge

Oct 13, 2013

Welcoming festivities - WOW post :)

I woke up to a loud “tak tak” sound of someone trying to put a nail on the wall next door.
I got up to get ready, when Jerry excitedly started “Bhow Bhow”, jumping and pulling the pile of clothes.
Po po” horn from office cab made me hurry. Avoiding the “clink” of my heels, I rushed down the stairs. “Thud” a loud noise, and I landed on my back. Reason – a pool of wet paint, splattered due to the on-going painting work.
My way of welcoming the Diwali preparations. Phew!

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

Oct 6, 2013

Heartbreaking confusion - 55 fiction

He had come to talk to her for the moment they shared. He had felt something special and wanted to ask if she felt the same.  He heard her talking and paused. She said “It was just bliss”. He mistook it for “It was just a kiss”.

He thought he got his answer and left.



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

This weeks prompt - 

She said ____. He mistook it to be ____.

The words used in the blanks have to rhyme and your post should revolve around the confusion thus created as a result of the miscommunication.


Sep 29, 2013

5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1… and I could no longer hear the crowd that was cheering. I wanted to believe that I was fine, but the sound of people wishing New Year to their loved ones was fading. I felt as if I was drowning. Slowly, slowly everything seemed distant.

I was alone, really alone. I was no longer excited. I was scared. I began to cry. I wanted to scream but no words came out. Instead came out a muffling sound. I finally heard an ambulance before I drifted off to a deep sleep.

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It was New Year’s 2010. It was my first new years away from my family. I had managed to convince my parents and left for Goa with my buddies on 28th morning. Next four days were going to be the best holiday ever of my life.

Next two days were full of unlimited drinks, music and dance. Goa was amazing. Beaches, great weather, amazing crowd, larger than life parties, all that a small town guy like me had seen for the first time.

Finally it was the New Year’s Eve. We all wanted to do something bigger, something better, something different than the parties that we were attending for last two nights. My friend found out that the best party in entire Goa is at a private beach of a business tycoon, but the entry is strictly by invites.

Driven by the adrenaline rush, we vowed to gate crash. We dressed up well, and reached the venue. After twenty minutes my friend managed to get us an entry by convincing one of the bouncers.

Inside was a party that we had never ever imagined. Everything was on house. The “Who’s who” of the Bollywood and corporate world were there. Page three media representatives, photographers, skilled bartenders, five star caterers… think and they were there.

We were having a great time. It was 15 minutes left to New Year’s when someone offered us a smoke. I took a drag and realized it was not a cigarette. I thought of returning it back but yeah! It was New Years. My friends encouraged and tried a drag each. I smoked off rest of the joint in style.

Soon after that someone took me to a corner where several people were bent on a table. It was exciting. I was handed a roll and encouraged to bend down and inhale. As the DJ began the countdown 10, 9…. I bent down. 8, 7, 6… I inhaled and got up. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!!

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

This post is written to highlight increasing availability and usage of party drugs. (Photo source - Google)