Verbal Violence

marriage3NO‘ isn’t just a word but a complete sentence in itself. Doesn’t need further clarification! ” – AB senior baritoned intensely on the telly.

Uff! How many times will you see this nonsense? Can I see some news now?” Husband took the remote from my hand – grabbed more like it – and began to get high on that raucous pseudo patriotic renditioning of events by that finger-wagging news-caster. I slid down the bed, turned and began to play with my phone.

Without any preamble, the husband switched off and grabbed me. He was panting already. “No, not today, I’m extremely tired.” I tried pushing him gently but he was on the top as always. “This is an everyday story.” I went flat, both in enthusiasm and position. My eyes were wet. He thought passion made them so but only I knew the truth. The deed done in two minutes, he was snoring almost immediately like a boring machine.

I finally slept in the wee hours after liking random posts, happy-couple pics. I woke up with a murderous rage, wanting to pound someone. Husband had been up already, tending to his flower bed in our tiny balcony.

Morning, Why do you get up so late? Now you will rush for work, leave a mess behind, get caught in the morning traffic and blame everyone else for your slothfulness. No wonder your boss doesn’t give you important tasks.

Luckily my brain was still fogged out to get the full blast of his words.

Don’t sulk now. I made coffee for you and told the cook to pack some sandwiches too. Don’t waste time on trying to reverse my instructions to her. Get ready fast. We are leaving in 40 minutes

I don’t remember when I started switching off at his sermons. I walked into the kitchen to pick up my coffee.

The cook smiled at me. “Morning Didi” I grunted in return.

The coffee tasted bitter. As is usual, health-conscious-he decided that one spoon of sugar is enough, knowing fully well that I liked three. As I added sugar, the cook said, “You are very lucky Didi! Saab looks after you so well!”.

Too well!” I muttered.

Where are the sandwiches?” I was mild enough, taking care not show how I felt about her take on my marriage. After all, the husband needed her fawning culinary skills to keep his six-pack thriving.

I sipped the coffee as I scanned the dailies. “You are still here! Go take a bath. We are leaving in 30 minutes. Wear that red dress of yours. It brings out your black orbs very well. I will pick you up from your office at 6:30pm. We are having drinks with the Das’s.” Husband declared.

What? I told you, we have to visit Raji’s studio! I promised her. Today is the last day of her showing.

We can always see her concoctions at her home. Das is my new boss and we can’t say no to him. Good for my career, good for us. Now, go rush. 25 minutes to the takeoff!

Why don’t you go ahead? I will take time, I need to shampoo. I will take an Uber.

Really! Leave the locking to you? Have you forgotten how you left the balcony door open last time and the monkey came in and wreaked havoc? Why spend on Uber when we both are going in the same direction? Why are you wasting time chitchatting? In twenty minutes, I will get the car out. You better be ready.

A hurried bath, and a clumsy effort at getting dressed, I was finally out at the stipulated time. Husband had banged on the bathroom door restlessly 5 times by then. Thank God for my humungous tote, which gladly accepted the dry shampoo, straightener, Kajal and the works. I could spruce up at leisure in the restroom later. I packed in the red dress too.

Why aren’t wearing the red dress I told you to? And please be more presentable than this! We are meeting my boss, not some hippy friend of yours! God knows what you do with all the designer stuff I buy you.” Husband was visibly angry as he locked the front door after multiple checking on the various doors and switches of the house.

I don’t know when his words stopped stinging. “ I will…” I mumbled incoherently.

He dropped me at my office. The entire ride was spent in silence as a punishment to me for my lethargy. I was grateful for the non-communication though.

At 6:30 sharp! In a better shape than this!” Those were his parting words as he sped away.

Have a good day, you too!” I waved at the disappearing car.

Mom called as I swiped my card. “Have you reached your office? Guess who was visiting us? Son-in-law’s Uncle. I was telling him, how lucky you are! How well the son-in-law looks after you…Pray, when will I get the good news?

Somehow the entire building looked blurred through my moist eyes! I must change my mascara and the Kajal pencil.

They keep making my eyes wet.

When Real People Walked The Ramp


It was the 10th of August around 5:45pm – My student and I were discussing passionately the ancient mariner, his albatross. It was an intense scene with 200 dead sailors with accusatory eyes. Suddenly my phones buzzed making me all smiles. The student was nonplussed wondering what had got into me. The message read, “Would you be my woman of substance?” It was Malvika Mathur of Label Eeshav.

Now I knew I was a woman of substance – my weighing machine groans so every single day – The message certainly piqued my interest. We talked at length in the evening. Malvika was actually serious and her showcase was for a noble cause. Gurgaonmoms were having a charity event to raise money for the Bagiya School. I was still in two minds. I had never done this before and I certainly didn’t want to make a fool of myself on the stage sporting those gorgeous clothes.

Enter Darling_Dotty. She spouted Shahisms and clinched the deal. “Go ahead mom, You got only one life and this is kickass cool”. Hmm_Husband was his usual taciturn solid supporter. With great trepidation, I said yes.

Next step was the Choosing of the dress. Yes, the designer actually let us choose what we wanted to wear and what we were comfortable with <3. Dear Shampa helped me choose the perfect one, after many trials and tribulations. A beautiful silk creation in Gold, Green, Pink, Orange, Yellow, the works!


We bought our tickets for the charity event, dresses were sorted and then came the practice. After relentless brainstorming over WhatsApp, the pulsating music to walk on was finalized.

Now where to walk? Gurgaon pads are matchboxes, how could we build a similar ramp in our humble abodes? Enter the designer who opened her home and her kitchen.

Now, Malvika has a huge pad and a huger heart. She threatened us not to lose weight, she fed and fussed over like a mother hen. Swear to God, I put on good two kilos gorging on her paneer, rajma, and more. We walked, we laughed and we ate!

By now everyone knows the eclectic bunch that walked for Label Eeshav – Wrap some love Amrita – our Ammu, MUAs par excellence (and I thought it was a shortcut for MUAHHHH) Supriti and Oshna – our magicians with colors, Bangla Beauty Shampa – how dextrously she juggled work and walk and the super gorgeous woman with the lens Shailja Narita ( S for Saxy ). Ruchi Scizzors Sawhney took care of the hair.

Now I had the grace of a bull in a china shop. Supriti, Shailja, and Oshna took me under their wings, toiled hard till I was presentable while Malvika must have wondered what on earth made her choose me.

On a Sunday morning, a week before the D-day, all the designers and their team met with the experts, (Anu_PD and Sandi) who chiseled us raw materials – Sharing here a picture taken by Ravina Sodhi.


Finally, it was the D-Day. After sending my bacchi to school to take her exam,  I reported for the makeover at around 7:30 am.

IMG_2050  this to this IMG_3198

indeed magical!

After a couple runs on the ramp at the venue, we were ready! To face the audience, to walk the talk and showcase the fabulous Indianness Unplugged.

To put it in a nutshell, I didn’t goof up, I didn’t stumble or fall or tear up the garment. I may not have set the ramp on fire but the fact that I overcame my fears and put on a confident front was enough for me. I managed to match steps with my superb walk-mates. That was my big high.

Thanq dear ladies, my pals! You have taught me so much. I miss you all. Stay blessed…Keep smiling

Life is all about learning constantly and discovering new facets of you. Till next… Cherishing, reliving memories


Through Shailja’s lens –

Because You Live Once



The History of Mathematics

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A blissful Sunday morning for me is solving Sudoku over a hot cup of coffee in a satisfactory all-round silence. I find this very relaxing. While I wait for the green light at a traffic signal, I search for patterns on the number plates of cars, often adding them up to a single digit. I have a particular affinity for number 9 and 5. But this blog isn’t about my quirks or my proclivities.

This is about a fascinating book by Archana Sarat called ‘ The History of Mathematics’, published by Readomania.

In her career as a writer, Archana has spun some terrific tales across genres. Whether it was her short stories, her Novel ‘Birds of Prey’ or the e-book ‘Tit for Tat’, they have all captivated her readers and brought in much-deserved accolades.

In ‘The History of Mathematics’, Archana touches upon known and hitherto unknown legends, mathematical concepts, mathematicians and serves up a delectable fare.

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There are 26 neatly arranged tales (nothing to do with the letters of the English Alphabet) with apt titles, captions, aided by drawings, equations, expressions and pithy quotes by the famous.

I am in awe of her imagination skills. How deftly she has peppered mundane scientific facts with endearing back tales, filled with flesh and blood characters! And that makes this book utterly unique.

It is not easy to write in a concise and engaging manner on a vast and sometimes feared subject. It takes humungous effort! Kudos to the writer.

I made some of my students read the tales and give their feedback. They all loved it immensely. Taking this feedback a bit further, I feel, the schools should stock copies of this interesting nugget, in their libraries, for a larger audience to cherish.

That Archana’s book was #1 in ‘Hot New Releases in Children’s Historical Fiction’ is another reason to invest in this book.

Do we see a sequel coming out soon? Time would answer.

Because Readomania says “In a crowded marketplace for content, the authors must have a voice and something unique to say. Unless that happens the new books just end up becoming a new version of the same old story. We have enough of that, we now need new stories and different perspectives” when asked what makes them go for unusual books to publish with a diverse range of genres instead of sticking to time-tested commercial success genres, we can definitely look forward to more stirring books from her prolific and incisive pen.

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