A Writing Quill

My maid Asha often tells me about the old lady staying in the first floor. Asha would designate her as a very arrogant and conceited lady, ‘She does not like speaking to anyone. I had worked there for six long months but left it because of her haughty nature.’ I thought, but whenever I see her watering the beautiful plants of her balcony, I have noticed the smile on her face. It would brighten up so visibly. And it’s evident because of the immense love she holds for these voiceless living existents. I had questioned Asha about this too. ‘Umm… I have heard from the other maids and the watchman about the tragic life she has been living. Her husband and eldest son died in an accident. The younger son stays in this city itself, but does not talk to her neither visits her. She worked at a very reputed organization and after retirement she bought this flat.  The maid who preceded me, had told me once that this lady once kept on crying for hours. She never talks to anyone. But, Didi, I ha...

                                                                      The opulent Snigdha Residency was situated right at the center of the city with a very limited number of apartments in it.   There were only three buildings inside it each with just four apartments. The buildings were constructed in a V shape structure with a huge park and a walking area alongside a pool. All the modern amenities could be found so easily inside it making the survival easy for any of its resident. In fact, a departmental store had also been recently inaugurated, just near the entrance, specifically for the inhabitants of Snigdha Residency. I was staying in Block A and right in front of me, at a considerable distance was Block C while Block B was at the juncture, thus, creating the shape V. My floor was third. I had inhibiti...

I had come home during my holidays. After joining a Pharma company in Bangalore few years back, it was difficult for me to visit my hometown often but I always made it a point to at least come here once a year and sometimes depending on situations and the opportunities, it would be twice too. I loved coming back here to meet my families, friends and feel the sense of belongingness. Now, this year it was the only holiday I could manage and so I had the privilege to stretch it to some extent. I was happy. I have a few dear school friends too. We would meet often late in the evening for the get togethers. I was sharing them my experiences of the Bangalore over few drinks. Alcohol would not make me tipsy even after many drinks, so I had the adequacy to take quite a plenty of this disallowed and palliative liquid. But this evening was a little different; today after the intake of many drinks, I was feeling slightly tipsy but was able to drive my car and was in my senses. I thought of ta...

Who is she? Is she the one, sitting on the railway platform selling the chickpeas and corn? Or is she the one selling the beauty items at the shop or is she the one selling insurance products at her desk at office or is she the one setting a huge business deal for her company at the AC chamber inside her office on 29th floor of a tech city area in Bangalore? She is a working woman who is earning her sustenance as well as marking a name for herself in the society. Now, this looks tremendously enthusiastic when we say the word 'working woman'. It empowers the reader and gratifies them. But if we peep a little, behind the curtain, it would lead us to a series of unanswered dubieties. The lady selling chickpeas on the platform, Sushma, would never do this out of passion evidently, but to feed her four children born from a man who is unable to prop up the family alone and needed her as the succour. The onus to feed these many children along with giving birth to them reclined on ...

I, Poonu, was born after Naima within a short span of 1 year and 3 months. Both of us grew up together holding each other's hands. Although we were brought up together, we had different behavioral attributes. And also we completely looked different, thus challenging our sisterhood of belonging to the exact same lineage often by  friends and strangers and regarded us friends rather than siblings. And much later when our youngest sister was born, we were prejudiced of growing up ladies looking divergent. Naima was very naughty and thinner to a much greater extent, often blaming her constricted growth on me whose sudden birth took away Naima's birth rights of getting feeded by our mother after a few months of her birth. Ofcourse, then she would not understand my mother's reason of not feeding her properly during pregnancy but much later when she would understand science, in her teenage, she would frustatingly blame our mother upon her not gaining the required weight and womanl...

In Bengali tradition, the ' dak nam ' is not an uncommon phenomenon. People have two names: dak nam vs bhalo nam. Dak nam can be anything and everything like- Puchko, Buro, Buria, Roltu, Goltu, Chuti, Bubai, Tubai, Tompa, Titli, Tisha, many more, whatever one feels.  These are    basically the embarrassing ones which is popular among the closed family members and few childhood friends. This name may be conferred immediately at the child's birth or may be later after few days when calling 'baby' again and again  might juxtapose with someone elses's baby.  The ' bhalo nam'  on the other hand, is conveyed to the society in a very hubbub ceremony, ' Namkaran' , of laughters and pride, where everyone suggests a name and finally after performing some rituals, an appropriate, meaningful name is given to the child. This name is the identity of the child in the society as well as when he would present himself officially later in his life. The 'dak na...

Sitting on the Lotus, cladded in a white saree and lots of jewelleries, holding the Veena on one hand, she blesses the ardent knowledge seekers who are very religiously bowing down their head- almost touching the floor. Many are seen with both their hands full of books; few belonging to school and some story books with the intention to enhance the writing as well as the reading capacity.  The little toddler, oblivious of his steps are directed to her, by the mother of the child. He is apprehensive of giving away the crayons for a day considering it to be gone forever; only reluctantly agreeing when the priest assures the child to take it back the next day.  The girl carrying a 'tanpura', hastily strides towards her and sits on the floor in a position, the strings of her instrument gets touched to the 'Hamsavahini's feet . She joined both her palms in a namaste and prayed intensely for more than five minutes. Quietly she picked up her musical instrument and vacated her p...