A Writing Quill

  “ Grace comes to forgive and then forgive again. ”- Rumi . The act of forgiveness is a two-way path. To seek forgiveness. To forgive. It requires most of the discerned courage to accept one’s fault and asked to be forgiven by the person whom it was intentionally or unknowingly being hurt. But it provides immense happiness and satisfaction once this act is done without being prejudiced. It provides the independence to face the person unescorted by any guilt . And oneself will earn the freedom of the feathered friends flying up at the sky. This provides the inner calmness and tranquillity of mind . The act of giving forgiveness is tougher than the above proclaimed feat. It pinches the wounds which were once fathomless and might have healed with time or might not have. In fact, time, mostly, does not heal but puts several layers on it, thus, hiding it somewhere thick and far down. To forgive is to accept the inner lacerations which are throbbing deep inside. To forgiv...

  This lady in the recent Bollywood flick, had delivered dialogues for the few camouflaged notions of our society. One of them was the hard hit to the member of the fair sex in which she says, ‘aurat anaj uga bhi sakti hai, paka bhi sakti hai. Bachcha paida bhi kar sakti hai, bada bhi kar sakti hai. Dekhne jae to aurto ko mardo ki koi khas zarurat waise hai nahi. Par ye bat agar aurto ko pata chal gai to mard bechare ka baja nahi baj jaega?’ ( "Women can farm and cook. We can give birth to children and raise them. If you think about it, women don't really need men at all. But if women figured this out, men would be screwed, wouldn't they?") If women are capable of leading their lives on their own, who is stopping them from doing it? Today’s woman is smart, self-independent, educated and so much ahead of time. She is a teacher, a scientist, an astronaut and what not. Still, when its about the relationship with the opposite sex, she is always the weaker partner (exce...

Chitra jumped out of her make shift arrangement, picked the heavy spoon thrown on the ground and kept it back on the rack. They did discuss but then concluded, might be the spoon was kept indiscriminately on top of the casserole pot. Chitra was silent. They went back to sleep.  Morning at 7, they woke up. Chitra was already awake and done with her morning rituals as a habitual early riser. Four of them sat with their cups of tea. Chitra spoke, 'Umm... the spoon was not kept on top of the pot. I was the last one to have food yesterday night. I remember very well, I had kept it near the pot towards inside, in a horizontal position with its face turned down. And it was hurled on the floor in an upside down position too, but in a straight vertical orientation. Moreover, I was awake for some time as I could hear someone constantly walking near us. I thought must be one of you but when I looked up, I found none.' 'Wait. I heard the bathroom door being thumped with something heavy...

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...