A Writing Quill

Keeping themselves away from the job, children and household responsibilities was not easy for any of them. And after planning for many months, in fact years, it seemed to be possible for these four friends, now, to steal a day from their humdrum and jostling existence. They: Ananya, Chitra, Pranamika and Ujjaini decided a Saturday for their getaway.   The planning was made on a weekend so that it would be a holiday and their spouses would be available to look after the family- ‘the typical woman life, which says- manage the life before one enjoys’. The day would be spent in sight-seeing and the night at a homestay between the hills and lofty pine trees. The scenic beauty of this location was too mesmerising in this nearby hill station from their place of domicile. And it was evident from the amazing photographs available of this homestay in the internet. The sojourn for their day trip began at 9A.M. on a Saturday. It was their day off from the household chores, so preparing br...

                                     Some people retire from our lives with a remarkable smear. They themselves can’t even judge the degree of influence they had actually left behind them. And we just remember them as the sweet memory of yesteryears. One such person was the ‘ mausi ’. She was appointed by us few years ago by my mother to take care of the two terribly naughty children of my brother. My sister-in-law was left with no energy at the end of the day after thriving the long day with her kids and so hiring a babysitter seemed to be the best option. She was a short, fair lady always in the traditional attire, hired with quite a handsome salary by my mother. Her smiling face conceived a friendly nature, only inviting the thoughts inside our mind of being thrown out mischievously, by our two little monsters soon. This had been the same story being repeated with all the maids before h...

  My mother was a lady of grace though she was apprehensive about smallest of the mischiefs of us- her three daughters. We the girls grew up considering her to be the epitome of womanhood. We thought a woman is supposed to be like her. She, was a homemaker though well educated with time. She taught us both English as well as math. Beena, her name which is the melodious musical instrument of goddess Saraswati, was chosen for her by her parents when she went to school. Beena was timid and scared of her husband, society and sisters. So, most of the time she would set thresholds for us. We three sisters though, the obedient ones, would unhappily comply with her decisions. But the eldest one would many a times go against the rules and also faced the consequences. The one next to her, was the ideal one for Beena. She had trained her as she desired. Me, the, youngest one was a bright student. I never made myself available to be bullied by anyone in school. I would fight with anybody irres...

The third floor was occupied by an old couple. I must say they were the charm of Block C; too much in love with each other even though both were septuagenarians. Love was defined so evidently in their old and fragile eyes which would compel any living existent to search for their soulmates. They never had any children and last to last year had celebrated their golden jubilee of being with each other tied by the nuptial knot. I once asked the old man’s consort, ‘Mam, how is it to love the same person every morning for more than 50 long years?’ The old woman giggled like a teenager would, when encountered with her first love, ‘each day I find him better than the previous day and I start loving him more. When he was in Navy, I would yearn to meet him for six long months and the rest of the year when he would be home, he treated me like a princess. So, after his retirement, I assumed I would be a princess for the rest of the six months too. But he thought the other way and made me the quee...