A Writing Quill

The Sunday winter morning was cold and lazy in Delhi . Mr. Natwarlal routinely woke up at 6 A.M. He insisted that his wife, Archana , follow the same routine but she unabashedly denied his proposals. She continued her sleep with the zizz inside the soft blanket that lovingly hugged her from head to toe. The blanket was warm now from her body heat, which was in the end, folded by her feet towards the inside, while its other end was squeezed by her hands tucking it tightly with her body, restricting the slightest wind from entering inside. Natwarlal headed to the kitchen, murmuring something inaudible, to make his morning tea—the real reason he wanted his wife to follow this routine. He was a disaster inside the kitchen. The utensils would fall on the ground with a loud sound, and there would be constant commotion until he left the cooking area. Everyone would get disturbed, and he held pride in his non-dependency on anybody in the family. At about 6.30 A.M. he would go for his routin...

The five girlfriends met for coffee dates; a ritual to be followed once every month, preferably on Sundays. First Sunday of August. Sunita was the last one to join today, ‘hey! My pretty ladies, wazz up?’ ‘Huh. You are late’, Lata retorted. ‘I am so sorry, girls. I was stuck with this long board meeting. I don’t have rest on Sundays, too. If not office, then video calls. I am just stuck with my job. It rules my life.’ Sunita spoke with this unceasing array of complaints that had engulfed her life for the past few years. ‘At least you have some productive thing to crib about. Look at me. I am this MTech from NIT and still slogging my ass from dawn to dusk taking care of each need of my in-laws, husband, and two children. Nothing pertains to me. It's only about them. And now if I tell him about joining a company, my husband recommends me a teaching job rather. I did take up a job a few months back. It offered me relaxation as I was working from home. But once I started my...

The man somehow managed to get inside the train and propelled his fragile and old palm to catch hold of his beloved’s hand who was struggling in the crowd to board it. Their son was already making efforts by shoving the few young passengers who were not letting his parents get up on the train. The old couple was going to the lady’s hometown, which would be a three-hour journey by train and almost seven hours by car. They insisted on choosing the train despite several arguments with the son, who strongly opinionated to travel by car because of their advancing age. But after many heated debates, the couple won stating they wanted to relive the past days for the last time as they assumed it would be impossible in the future because of their failing health and that now, they could manage themselves considerably. The worried son waved at his parents as a gesture of a pleasant journey while the gleaming parents reciprocated him with a higher spirit and happiness. Their...

  I was late. The constant fear of missing the train had awakened me till 1 A.M. The train was to leave the station at 6 A.M. I had planned to get up at 4 in the morning, follow my routine morning rituals, and then leave at 5 for the station. But everything reversed when I kept dozing, as I ignored the repeated snoozes of my alarm.   I woke up at 5. I was unable to decide if I wanted to be at the lavatory or should book a cab. My bladder was about to burst and the accumulated waste inside my colon was pressing my rectum hard to be thrown out. I thrust myself into a pair of jeans and a pullover and rushed to the washroom grabbing the mobile phone in one palm. I was multitasking. While I emptied myself in the commode, my left hand was brushing my teeth and my right palm was booking a cab. Relieved. The cab was 2 minutes away, which meant in 120 seconds, I had to clean my teeth and face, also my buttocks, wear shoes, and be at the pick-up point. I stayed on the 2 nd flo...

The road was narrow, and so were the people's perceptions. They would fight physically at the slightest instigation or verbal accusations. There was no law and order. The intellectuals were the decision-makers of the society. They would condemn the common junta when they considered things to be wrong.   In the name of religion and knowledge, the learned philosophers and the clergymen would take advantage of the people. The people were declared bad because they thought so. It was the ‘ moral/religious poaching ’. There were thieves, cheats, and the hypocrites. Besides those belonging to the priority class of the society, the women were treated as commodities. They had no voice and could only follow whatever the male section decided but their toughness was commendable. Their desires, sexual as well as mental and intellectual, not being fulfilled, made them go wild and take certain steps to be regretted later. There were fewer or no male-female interactions thus, leading to secre...

I was shy, timid, and not a wise person. I had seen the tide carrying away my belongings. Still, I sat and wept doing nothing. I knew I had to do something but I didn’t. I was tired. I sat and wept from dawn to dusk and so from dusk to dawn. The stranger asked me one day. ‘Why are you crying?’ ‘The tide took away my possessions.’ ‘Girl, you don’t possess anything here. But you are a giver. Always.’ He was gone. How foolish was he? I thought. Another stranger asked me the same. But he replied, ‘How can you sit and cry when you have lost your things? Get it, girl. Run.’ He was gone. Should I run? Should I let it go? We all carry baggage—a suitcase of attachment, loyalty, love, and understanding. Phew!!! I was happy because it carried away the unnecessary anxieties and fears. But still, I cried. I realized I had lost the love and compassion that belonged to me. The stranger spoke again, inside my mind, ‘Give away.’ The other stranger interrupted, ‘Shu...

  ‘How beautiful a day is when friendship touches it’- Rumi I was thrilled to find myself admitted in a school much larger than my expectations; both in expanse and strength. I was elated and eager to join it soon. But much to my dismay, the first few weeks were unvaried and unstimulating. The same monotony engulfed my days. I would get up in the morning, dragged myself to catch the school bus, spent the day deeply immersed in studies and sports, returned back home; lazily and worn out. My parents would eagerly anticipate a fun filled day from me at the dinner time but would soon be disappointed with my cold and unexcited answers. Unable to judge my quandary, they would suggest me various means to make friendship. Sometimes, they would make up funny stories just to please my dull attitude. I was uninterested at those conjectures. Days passed. I was as uncomfortable as before; until one day, when she arrived. The class teacher introduced her to the entire class. She was plump ...