Kahani Ek – Teen Endings


Kahani #1

“Neha, I’ve chosen a boy for you”

“But Daddy I love someone deeply”

“Girl, Mine works in a Fortune500 company”

“Daddy, mine says I’m his good fortune, has 500 nice things to say about me”

“Neha, my Raj will take you for a cruise on the Thames, for dinner by the Eiffel Tower”

“Daddy, my Rahul will take me to Tirthan and serenade”

“Neha, think about your FB profile after marriage!”

Neha thought deeply.

After fifteen days NehaRaj updated her FB, Instagram with pictures of her honeymoon in Europe with hashtags like #soulmate #truelove

Love is also being practical!


Kahani #2

“Neha, I have chosen a boy for you”

“But Daddy I love someone else deeply”

“Neha, My choice works in a Fortune 500 company”

“Daddy, my choice says I’m his good fortune and has 500 nice things to say about me”

“Neha, my choice, Raj, will take you for a cruise on the Thames and for dinner by the Eiffel Tower”

“Daddy, my choice Rahul will take me to Nainital and serenade”

“Okay Neha, how do you like your FB profile to look?”

Neha thought deeply.

After a few days, Neha updated her FB profile, Instagram with pictures of her checking into a Grad-School with hashtags like #LoveCanWaitStudiesCan’t  #LifeGoals

Love is also about loving self! Deeply!!


Kahani #3

“Neha, I have chosen a boy for you”

“But Daddy I love someone else deeply”

“Neha, My choice works in a Fortune 500 company”

“Daddy, my choice says I’m his good fortune and has 500 nice things to say about me”

“Neha, my choice, Raj, will take you for a cruise on the Thames and for dinner by the Eiffel Tower”

“Daddy, my choice Rahul will take me to Shimla and serenade”

“Okay Neha, how do you like your FB profile to look?”

Neha thought deeply.

After a few days, Neha Rahul updated her FB profile, Instagram with pictures of her checking into an Airbnb with hashtags like #LoveMakesTheWorldBetter #LifeGoals

Because Rahul completes Neha! Neha treasures Rahul

Because True Love is a difficult treasure to find and hold onto!

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Never Too Late

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

She sat on the bed caressing his pressed, crisp uniform, wiping away the non-existent tears. The tears had dried up but the searing, gnawing, ache remained like a permanent cloak, sapping all her energy and zest.

‘Is it already a year? Wasn’t it only yesterday, that the moment the informer had called, he wore his uniform and ran to attend the call of duty, promising to finish his favourite meal later, when he returned successful?’

He never kept to his promise. A definite first!

Only a dreaded call ensued, a casket clad in the Tricolor arrived  and a swarm of grieving people descended into her empty home.

‘He embraced death to give us a second chance at life’, they held her and shed copious tears as he was given the ceremonial send off.

The number of visitors reduced to a trickle as the cruel time marched ahead and she was left alone, tending to her permanent sores.

Public memory is ephemeral. If this were to be the harsh reality where everybody had moved on, while only her world had been devastated, why did he take this step? Not one remembered his sacrifice and yet he never shirked his duty. Did he even think about her or the repercussions, in his last minutes at least?

Why didn’t he leave the call of duty to others?

As the dark evening set in, the phone rang.

“Namaste Maam, we are having a service tomorrow in the memory of your brave husband. The very reason, we live…Could you please come?”

She smiled for the first time in the day.

They had remembered. It wasn’t all in vain.  It is never too late to remember your martyrs or to salute them.

She cuddled the uniform once again, feeling his warmth envelop all over her. She didn’t feel lonely now!

When you live for others…You live on…For ever


An Unforgettable Friend

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

I carry your heart…I carry it in my heart

Thought the teary-eyed, recuperating patient, lying on his bed, in the intensive care unit.

In a split second, he was back in time and to the very place where it had all started.

They were childhood friends, who grew up with same tastes and who then developed intense feelings for each other. The boys knew, they couldn’t let the world sneak in on their secret. It wouldn’t understand with its draconian divisions of people.

So they masqueraded their affection as ‘close-friendship’ lest the hyper vigilante society separated them, punishing them.

They then decided that the first world with its more liberal outlook might be safe for them to disappear, to breathe free, to be alive.

The families definitely had no clue about this. Otherwise, all hell would be let loose.

They even acquired the requisite permits till a killer truck played the spoilsport, while they were returning from a night-show.

It is a perfect match. Both are of same age, build and height. Ravi has a chance to live if Sarath’s heart is used for implanting.”  The good doctor had advised.

Beta, I see my lost son in you.” cried Sarath’s mother, clutching Ravi.

I carry your heart…I carry it in my heart!

And in death, we are finally together, away from this rigid society’s judgements and rancor. Rest in peace, my love, my unforgettable friend. For now, I will protect you with my life” Thought Ravi, clutching his beloved heart.

Rupa and demonetisation


Rupa hummed the latest chart buster as she stir-fried the bhendi, with one hand, while she rolled out the thin crispy parathas. Beer Singh, her husband, busy on the phone, came into the kitchen, tapped angrily at his watch. Rupa smiled apologetically and handed him his plate of food. She could hear her mother-in-law, invoking all the gods while she screamed at Rupa for her tardiness and her father-in-law demanded another cup of chai.

Nothing could faze Rupa. Not today. When long awaited happiness was in sight.

Tomorrow, her in-laws would leave home to visit her sister-in-law and her husband had appointments all through the day. So she would…

In a flash, she was back to that point where it had all started.

Rupa, true to name, was beauty born between many sisters, into a wealthy family steeped in conservatism. She was also bright with stars in her eyes and big dreams to chase. Her family let her study provided, she learnt all the ‘girlie’ talents. One by one, as her sisters were married off, much against their wishes, Rupa knew what fate awaited her but she hoped against hope. And sure enough, one fine day, as she came back from college, the elders gave her the news of her engagement with Beer Singh. Since the wedding was only a week away, her education was stopped. Wearily, Rupa got busy with the festivities.

On her wedding night, Rupa discovered what a monster her husband was…which continued. She tried complaining around. Her family said, their responsibility was over the moment she got married. It was up to her, to set her marriage straight. Her in-laws fumed, how dare she find fault with their precious son?

Enough ways were found to bring her into submission, to break her spirit. Weary Rupa, trudged along with life. Luckily there were no children and in-laws began hinting at another wedding. Totally broken, TV would be her entertainment, once she was done with her daily chores and the Mother-in-law retired for her siesta.

One fine day, Rupa happened to see, ‘Sleeping with the Enemy.’

A plan began to formulate in her head.

Beer Singh was a property dealer. There was always cash around. Rupa began to whittle away tiny amounts of cash from the sum she received to run the household, hid it in pantyhose, tucked it away under mattress, stashed away in the dark corners of closets. Mooched some cash away from the money given for safe keeping. Did whatever she could. Slowly this money grew into a significant reserve over time. It was her treasure, to be used as and when she decided to bolt, to set up life new in the remote south, where nobody knew her. She had it all planned.

And the D-Day was near. She was about to fly the coop the next day when all were busy.

Rupa finished the rest of the day very cheerfully. She cooked Beer Singh’s favorite food. The wretched bloke deserved one final kind gesture.

Beer Singh came back as usual, sozzled to the gills, demanded the TV be switched on while he ate his dinner. Suddenly, all the news channels started airing the PM’s address to the nation.

As of midnight, tonight, all 500 and 1000 notes will be demonetized. And…

Two people fell down simultaneously to the ground, though for different reasons.

Would Rupa get a chance to fly away? Tomorrow surely knows!


Suddenly all her life was sucked out of her and Rupa became a mere shadow of her former self. She was trapped, forever! 

As is usual, no one in the family had noticed or cared really, busy as they were, with their own share of life altering and shattering cash problems. Beer Singh, her husband and her father-in-law were shocked beyond their wits, while the mother-in-law wailed round the clock. Bundles of notes everywhere but of no apparent value, as most of it was unaccounted for. All sorts of nefarious schemes were being considered and many fixers dropped in all the time, serving up, tens of under-handed dealings, to save the day.

Rupa, after the initial moping period, recovered soon enough. You cannot put a beautiful soul down, for long! She began to absorb and assimilate the information floating around her, sorting and discarding trash. She began to scout around amongst her friends for the most trustworthy, someone whom she could depend with her stashed but now worthless moolah. She obviously couldn’t share everything -(about her plans of flying off from her torture chamber) – with anyone!

Finally, she zeroed in on Sakhi, one of her closest acquaintances after her marriage with Beer Singh. Sakhi was shrewd and smart. Rupa would call Sakhi everyday, making deep inroads into Sakhi’s heart, exchanging daily domestic drivel, asking for advice. Once Rupa was sure that, Sakhi was now much closer to her, she told her mother-in-law, her intentions of visiting the nearby temple daily, to pray for the well being of the family. Mother-in-law waved her away, saying that it was ok, so long as all the jobs were done and she came back in time to attend to the rest. One less bother, to tackle!

Rupa would beg Sakhi to accompany her and Sakhi often indulged. Rupa amused her. Slowly, little by little, Rupa began to divulge her secrets to Sakhi. Sakhi was soon taken up by this adventure and she readily agreed to deposit the whittled cash in her account on the sly and take out the new denominations, over time, given the monetary withdrawal restrictions. Sakhi was amazed that, given the circumstances of Rupa, Rupa had managed to stash away so much. Of course, Rupa never revealed the entire truth though Rupa had no go except to trust Sakhi.

Over days, all the cash was deposited and it was time to rebuild the chest with new denominations.


Why is Sakhi avoiding my calls? These days, she always meets me with someone in the room, so that I cannot speak about the money at all. What do I do now? What will she do with that cash? Above 2.5 lac, she needs to show the source! She knows that. Money makes morals fly’ thought Rupa, as she chopped onions. Her eyes were full of tears,- due to onions? or due to her anguish? she couldn’t comprehend.

I’m going to confront Sakhi today, no matter what! I will land up at her house, without any prior intimation and catch her off-guard!’. Rupa rushed through her chores, gave the excuse of a visit to the temple and marched towards Sakhi’s house.

Sakhi, luckily for Rupa, was all alone in her house. And a no-holds barred fight ensued. Sakhi point blank refused to part with the cash, even asking where the proof of deposit was. Rupa slumped into her chair. Sakhi pinned Rupa down, roughly shaking her by the shoulders and screamed, “ Get out of my house! Forget that we were friends ever! What money do you talk of? I dare you to prove it. If you keep coming here and harassing me, I will come over and complain to Bhaiyya. Now, get up and move.”

Softly sobbing Rupa, quietly stepped out, started her Scooty and moved towards home.

One of the narrower lanes, near her home was jam packed with people. Rupa tried to move around the crowd and then she spotted the boy, the reason for the milling crowd. A six year old boy was writhing in pain, foaming at the mouth, while the crowd watched. He had ingested something from the nearby food stalls. Someone had called the ambulance, but these are narrow roads. So…

Rupa called Sakhi, repeatedly but Sakhi didn’t pick up. Rupa quietly picked up the boy. She had to!

It was Sakhi’s son. She tied him to her back with her chunni, while he was throwing up on her, made another neighborhood lad sit behind, holding Sakhi’s son. She sped towards the hospital,  in the next lane, ran with the boy in her arms, created enough ruckus and got him admitted.

As the doctors attended to him, she made the call again to the mother. Sakhi didn’t pick up. She then messaged Sakhi.


The doctors told Sakhi, that the timely medical attention had saved the boy. Else he had no chance. Sakhi, held Rupa and cried bitterly. Somehow the stench of vomit emanating from Rupa didn’t bother, either.


Rupa, your friend Sakhi has come!” screamed Rupa’s mother-in-law. Rupa came out of the kitchen, smiled at Sakhi and took her to her room. Sakhi was carrying a big bag under her chunni. She simply put it in Rupa’s hands and bowed with her hands folded.

Rupa opened the zip, looked at the contents  and stuttered, “ This is much more than what I had given you!

Nothing I do, will ever repay your debt!” was all tearful Sakhi had to say.

Rupa smiled broadly and hugged Sakhi tightly

Now Rupa was ready to fly! It was all just a matter of time!

Let us Mock, Stalk & Quarrel

15111089_1167050083364261_1330858925931304118_oA wikipedia would define Satire as a genre of literature in which the vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings of individuals, corporations, government, or society are held up to ridicule, ideally hoping for an improvement. A feature of satire is strong irony or sarcasm. Although satire is usually meant to be humorous, it’s greater purpose is constructive social criticism, using wit to draw attention to both particular and wider issues in society.

We are seeing some solid society churning. In such times, a true writer uses the pen to echo the turmoil around.

When the mere wax figures  masquerade as role models to the ignorant and fawning believers, 

when goddesses mull over festering sores of deep-rooted gender inequalities, 

The domestic drivels or the mismanaged familial relationships or the idiosyncrasies of our daily humdrum,

When knowledge acquisition suffers a collateral damage as you go chasing degrees, 

When even after 70 years of independence, an MP has no Locus Standi, 

When a death in search of fame doesn’t even merit a footnote in the daily rags,

When the age old biases exist to debilitate and stunt,

When it becomes a herculean task to find a noble prince or a malleable maid,

When Gods are slotted, reservations are resisted and blood needs to be proved,

When it is not fair to be dark and the government becomes our matrix,

When miracles or god-(wo)men defy logic or a tail becomes a frenzied tale …

It is then time to get to work, wield that acerbic pen and whip up a torrid storm.

These are the prevalent, pertinent issues, screaming for a platform to be showcased so that there could be a change, albeit slowly.

There are two ways to go about this.

Either one pontificates or playfully delivers a sledgehammer.

The second option is always,  in my humble opinion, more effective because it softens the blow while making one chuckle and also circumspect.

Sarcasm always works because humor helps you cope, think and if possible…act!!

Edited by Indrani Ganguly, Mock, Stalk and Quarrel, a collection of satirical stories,  pokes fun at all the seemingly insurmountable, deep-set issues of today.

Short story format is apt for such an endeavor as the restless world around expresses the feelings in 140 characters. Everything is insta and happening!

So short and snappy is catchy.

It is our way of wanting a tangible change.

Together, we could and we did.

I’m extremely proud to be associated with this ‘Must-Read-One-Of-A-Kind-Satirical-Anthology’ and invite you to pick your copy at this URL.. 


Abide with us -The Magical 29 


AeDilHaiMushKil – A bloody Honest Review


#AeDilHaiMushKil Kill Me Now!!

Dear Karan Johar,

Here I am back, writing an open letter, yet again. Kya kare Aadat se Majboor!

I have just spent 3 hours 45 minutes 54 Seconds of my rather ordinary life watching ‘Ae Dil E Mushkil’. Which can never be recovered ever again!! And at my station of life that is precious resource really!

Enough Puns have been made on this title and I won’t try making more. Suffice to say KJo, my limited precious non-regenerative brain cells have been masticated beyond repair. I was so traumatized, that like the rest of Junta that scooted the moment the credits rolled in at the much awaited end, I tried doing the same thing – Pulling the arm of a scantily clad auntie with puffed up hair and leaving my one and only daughter behind.

Bahut Kuch hota hai Karan Tum na Samjhoge

You must have seen Imtiaz Ali’s ‘Rockstar’ one evening nursing a large No?

Complex ho gaya Nahin?

Yeah! after a while, when all the Moolahs have been raked in, Manva craves  for dollops of respect.

So you decided to make a hash of it while you filled in your floating characters with oodles of designer distress. Added to it your Childhood Fanzie moment with Ash!

When one walks out with a feeling that she was the best of the pile as far as killing black is concerned or pouty reds spouting incomprehensible poetry ( Aren’t Shayars supposed to be lean, mean hungry? Show me the money Da, or I’m in the wrong profession) or simply doing a scene as it is supposed to be! Tells one a lot about the movie right?

Par Logic bhi daalna tha na! Koi Na! Mixer sahi se chala nahin Aur Thodha Khushi Bahut Gham Ho gaya

By the way, stalking is aint cool KJO! A No is a No even if it is Ranbir

And Ranbir Honey, how many times can the lady repair ya? Just asking! Leave them be!

Just Imagine Karan Johar – What all could be done with Rs 1500/-

A meal at a decent restaurant, some gas in the car, so many colas or chips, metro recharge!

But your ilk doesn’t stoop to these normal things right?

As it is they don’t have to worry about existential dilemmas of monies as they go pub hopping, clubbing and private jetting.

Those are for lesser mortals.

Faltu ka MNS se lad rahe the, ban utarvaane ku…Fawad ko Bhagane ku ( I’m still trying to figure out his X factor!)

Isse kehte hain Khaali peeli BhomBhat.

One Last Question – What exactly happened here???

Accha Chalta Hoon, Dua mein Yaad Rakhna

Phew! You killed that song forever for me Bro.

Weary Viewer AJ

Disclaimer: Mutual Fund investments are subject to market risk. Please read the offer document carefully before investing’

Na Na Readers! Don’t go by this review! please go n see.

Everyone has to go and do their share of ‘Penance’😄😜

kya pata you might love it and you might think I’m crazy 👻

ki kitna bakwaas likhti hai


A twist in the tale

“Dham Dham!”
The maid was at it. Again! Dropping many hints while washing the dishes.
“So many dishes! I wonder how they manage this daily, with only three members in the house. All this work, I have do single handedly. But If I ask for a raise or leave, all hell will be come down. Always the same answer ‘No’ ‘No’. This month end, I will definitely give her a notice. Let me see how she will manage without me.”
Sharon heard the hints loud and clear. She wanted to scream and tell the maid to get the hell out of her house.
“How would I go for work then? I have to suffer her tantrums till I find a decent replacement. Always spoils mood while I am working”.
Sharon went back to answering her mails and then onto her fix. Facebooking.
“Drats! Everyone is on a holiday. That too abroad. These bloody status updates! Oh thats me in Dubai! Look at me, I dipped into Niagara. I’m pouting in front of Pisa..Nonsense! Why can’t they go quietly? Do they have to rub it in? And here Gautam says lets go to Coonoor! How bloody down market! Can’t blame the poor fellow though. It is our budget that cannot be stretched.”
To cheer and soothe herself, she then hit Jabong. “ 3@999/- ? What a delectable deal. Buy! Buy! Buy!” she said aloud.
“Mom, you are always buying for yourself. Why can’t I buy some books too? But it is a No always! A waste of money! Not fair!”
‘OMG! When did this little fellow creep in…’
“Honey, this purchase is work related. I have to dress for my job right? You have so many books.But you still want more!”
“Mom, these are for widening my mental horizons. I need the new..”
“Okay Okay, I will buy you, when I come back from work. I need to rush now. I have kept some food in the fridge. Study till Dad comes home Ok?”
***************** *******************
Sharon reached late. She was the EMCEE at a startup celebration party. The host was getting antsy. He made sure she understood his displeasure. Cursing him under her breath, Sharon took the mike, cracked a few in season jokes, made some witty observations and got the party rolling. DJ got the public grooving with some Funjaabi numbers.
She then strolled off to the overcrowded bar, where everyone was drinking their sorrows away.
“Hey Paddy” Sharon greeted a deeply furrowed young man who was boring holes into his smartphone.
“It is Padmanabhan! How many times do I have to correct you? Tomorrow when my book comes out and I become this hot shot author, you will be chasing all around me for autographs!”
“Yeah Right! I have been hearing that for a long time. Till then, It is you and me, covering these seedy parties. Also, it is Paddy till then” Sharon winked at Paddy and guffawed loudly.
Paddy was the quintessential Page 3 correspondent. He hated his beat and begged his editor to give him some editorial space where he could write lifestyle pieces. He regularly emailed her some soul stirring stuff. Heaven knows where the mails went. Spam/junk?trash definitely archived!
So he covered tripe, much to his consternation.
Paddy stared at Athiya, his editor, sharing a joke and a drink with the host.
“Do this please Paddy! It is for a friend!” He mimicked Athiya’s nasal twang.
Sharon burst out laughing. “ We are the suckers Paddy! To us! Bottoms Up!”
The host, Suren, stared through Athiya, half nodding, while she conspiratorially narrated a senior minister’s affair with tan upcoming starlet. He looked around and saw people guzzling away his food, his booze, his hard earned money.
“Just Imagine, how many salaries could be covered with this ugly expense. How am I going to fill in this short fall?”.
Still nodding, he stared at his trophy wife, in a snug fitting LBD and glittering diamonds.
“Daahling! It is important to be visible. Visibility is everything. This coverage and this party will give a massive boost to our business. Surely, I don’t have to tell you that!” She had crooned and like a fool, he had agreed.
‘What did she know? We are celebrating my dotcom bust. We need a bloody massive miracle to get us out of the deep slump that we are in now.’ Sure looked heavenwards, almost pleading.
“Suren, can I have a word with you please?” A deep baritone commanded him.
Suren turned around to face an expensive suit, a regular front pager of The Economic Times and paled in shock, but recovered quickly to blurt out an obsequious “Hello Sir!”
“Not here! somewhere quieter” The suit suggested. They walked into an alcove and settled in.
“Suren, I will come straight to the point. Being famous or present on Page 3 is equivalent to being rich on Monopoly. Absolutely redundant! I have looked at your books. “
“How?” Sure managed weakly.
“I think you should worry about ‘What Next?’ rather than the hows! I offer you a senior position with all the perks. My CA will get in touch with you to thrash out the details. Quietly wind up this and move on. Your people already have an inkling of what’s happening. So no surprises there. I need someone of your caliber. Don’t worry about wife. She will be happy with the page 3 coverage. Make sure of that. The offer is on till midnight. If I know you, your answer is already a ‘Yes’!” With these stirring words the Suit moved on as quietly as he came on the scene.
As Suren sat gobsmacked, trying to fathom this Christmas Bonus, Athiya joined in.
“What’s up Suren? You look all shaken up?”
“Athiya, The coverage standards are going down. I’m spending so much money here. I’m worried whether I will get my dough’s worth. Wife has been working so hard to make this party a success. I just hope the reporter does a good job! Could you please ensure wife gets a good mention, please, for old times sakes?”
“Actually, the guy who is covering this – Paddy – is getting complacent. He fancies himself to be a terrific writer and all this, beneath him. I must be on the look out for fresh talent now. But don’t worry. You have my word.” Athena assured Suren.
Sharon overheard this nugget as she came out from her pee-break. She rushed to caution Paddy. After all, he was a good chap.
The party eventually wound up and everyone said their lusty goodbyes.
Paddy dropped Sharon home.
“Thanks buddy for the heads up. Let me get my act straight. I’m going to unleash my creative juices, produce a vintage piece and send it ASAP. I’m going to be super serious about work.” Paddy promised and zipped off.
Sharon unlocked the front door and walked into her waiting, beaming husband, Gautam.
“Guess what honey, we are spending the weekend in Goa! Dil Chahta Hai Ishtyle!” Gautam gushed and hugged Sharon.
Sharon smiled broadly, gave her husband a tight squeeze and beckoned the watching son to join in.
“Here are some coupons for you, my son from that DotCom Party I went today. You can buy some great books.”
Needless to say, it turned out to be a happy night for all.
******** ********
Next morning, the maid was washing the dishes quietly without a whimper while Sharon surveyed her quizzically.
“Cannot afford to lose this house too. The other madam threw me suddenly without even a notice. This one is better. Doesn’t scream at me. Will ask for increment next month. Till then..” Maid muttered to herself.
Ahh Well! Adjustment is just a shift of thoughts…

An Open Letter! Open It


Ok Then!

I succumb to this trendy trend of open letters and write one to you!

My dearest twin delights and growing assets,

( Dear reader, Now! Don’t roll your eyes!  Before thy mind starts meandering, I am referring to my two bacchas).

So what gives? Apart from the daily drone?

As a good measure, I have added the Esteemed Grammie to the receivers’ list. She can play the eternal Grammar Nazi to her utter delight ( hopefully in private 🙂 )

Scintillating Sonny, you are a towering personality! Literally at 6’2”. Invariably people have to look up to you, given the average height and your ahem, length. Now just match that scenario up with some action. I know, you are already on to it.

But being your mater, I shall eternally natter.

You have taught me the Art of Zen in absolute all around chaotic clutter. Hence I look around our pad, close my eyes, pat my back and keep muttering “Aall Izzz Well” “Aall Izzz Well”.

You just chill and enjoy the flow alright?

Virus has told us already, ‘Life is a race’. We will reach the winning post definitely once we have finished enjoying the ‘Greenery’ around.

Surely, you do know that, whether you like it or not, I will sermonize from the grave too.

( Dear Reader, that’s why there is an epitaph!)

Darling Dotty ! Phew! When you start talking like Basanti of Sholay, I simply switch off as I stare with fascination at your jaw movements, dancing hands and fervid facial expressions.

You have taught me the art of dressing up of Mundane Stuff with Mirch Masala and presenting it as breaking news, delivered with absolute chutzpah. Your crazy one-liners honey, have always helped me stay grounded incase I developed any horns.

Keep singing sweetly, my songbird.

They say motherhood is Elevating, Love Affirming, Life Changing, Blah and Blah. 

You children, have made me Scream like a Banshee, Pull my Hair, Made me Fat, Thin, Wobbly, Matronly, Weep with Frustration, Jump with Joy and Cuddle for Comfort.  

But then, You Complete Me.

Because, Everyday with You is such FUN, in spite of US!

I wouldn’t part with you, even for God.

So March ahead into this world and stamp your presence.

I know it’s difficult to cut the apron strings but I promise I will try.

I will be a good Facebook friend by not tagging you unnecessarily and WhatsApp you about 5 times an hour with feel good messages on noble virtues. We will also Hangout, SnapChat and Skype if need be.

Dearest Mom (and dad), What would I have done without you?

I thought long and hard, putting my non existential brain to work. Not much really! You have helped me progress from ‘Florence Nightingale was a promiscuous lady’ to hoping to pen a novella.

You have always been there mom, with your constant corrections of my ‘Articles’, pronouns and prepositions.

As I daily dispense my random rumblings on the unsuspecting public at large, your work load of proofreading my tripe, has increased tremendously. Thank you..

( Dear Reader, that’s why it is good to have a mother who is a teacher! )

There, now that I have put all my cards on the table, can we have some silence please?

I am thinking hard here, about the next missive to be fired on those innocent readers out there, who have no clue what is going to hit them.

No more of those loving conversations.. “What’s for food mom?”

While you are at it, set me up with a plate too with a strong coffee to go!!

No mutterings too. Because, I Anupama Jain, am supposedly a writer. I definitely do not have the right to remain silent. Anything you, my dear family says, can and will be used in my writings and put up for the whole wide world to scrutinize, analyze, summarize.

Now, where’s my blessed couch?

V – Valentine’s Day Vows





Sita aka Vaidehi sat staring at her fb account.

The dailies were strewn around with all ads torn and crumpled. The deluge had just begun. The surfeit of red, chocolates and diamond discounts was nauseating her.

“Now everyone will status update with all those lovey dovey pics flaunting their VDay gifts. VDay! Uff! sounds more like a Venereal Disease. This hoopla is beginning to get to me. Need to head out. ASAP”

She then immediately created a whatsapp group “USlayGurrl” and started adding members-

Draupadi, Yashodhara, Rukhmini, Radha, Urmila and as an after thought Mandodari too.

They decided to head for a coffee soon.

But first Mani-Pedi sessions with a trendy haircut, had to be taken. They would be instagramming later all about their date. So they had to look dishy with picture perfect pouts in place.

After all the mandatory dressy issues and color codes were sorted, they settled into a no holds barred soul cleansing chatathon

Sita went first.. “Love Shove. Too much to bear. About this V-Day..”

Draupadi chipped in. “I haven’t yet decided with whom to go.. It’s actually the turn of twins this year! More like Buy One get One Free, but my heart is stuck on the Brave Archer. Brawny one is all into flexing muscles and dazzling skin show and Wise One is always pontificating. Kills the fun you know!”

Yashodhara(rolling her eyes): “At least you have options. Mine has gone off in search of spiritual salvation, a cure the world solution,  leaving me all high and dry.. You know what I mean.. You see”

Rukmini took over “ Look I have seven more wives to contend with. I am fed up with that roll of dice thingy. Somehow Satya gets it in her favour! Always! Me thinks, she borrows the dice from Shaks Mama”

Radha butted in. “Gurrls stop whining. You are all legally wedded wives. I have to be happy with random stolen evenings if lucky then nights.. that is if these wives leave Him”

Sita: “What about my story huh? First of all, as soon as we were married, he decided to be noble and all, gave up the Gaddi, sauntered off to the jungle. I thought it would be nice to have him all to myself and I followed him. Loving bro had to play the spoil sport and tagged along. Then this Ra-One kidnapped me. Never had a moment’s peace”

Urmila: “Pipe down sister! The same loving bro put me to sleep for 14 years. So don’t you go calling muh husband names. Lemme finish first.”

Mandodari who had been silent till then gave an acidic smile “Why am I here? I lost everything thanks to you Sita.Yet I am walking. Don’t whine!”

Kunti and Gandhari are nearby, catching up on good old times..

As is the practice, they cannot help overhearing.

They quickly drag themselves and join in the party quite uninvited and start dishing out time tested gyaan.

Old habits die hard you see.

Kunti: “ I could mesmerize anyone I liked which I did too, but then settled to watch over kids when a moment of insane amour killed Hubby dearest. I had to bring up my Souten’s kids too. So you got it easy ladies! Stop complaining!”

Gandhari:” Well! I shut the world for him! Life long! And then sired 101 children!! Just Imagine! Could anyone of you top that?”

As they sat moping, with their chins dropping to the table, it hit them collectively.

They were super stupendous sirens and their happiness lay in their hands.

So Live it up, Love yourself..

Every day is a Valentine’s Day, a Love-all Day!

And the lissome lassies?

They marched out smartly to “What an idea Sirjee” playing in the background.

J – Just Saying


Just Saying : Is there a single word that could comprehensively summarize or define a woman?

Wise ones have deified her, singing paeans to her larger than life virtues. Wisecrackers have let go at her, making a parody of her alleged vices.

A real woman lies somewhere in between, an amalgamation of fun and foibles.

At the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I can say I try to live up to my moniker. A crazy potpourri of bitter sweet.

A woman in me, would shed copious tears at the sight of a drop of blood, on my children’s body but would be the rock of Gibraltar on seeing the black clouds of self doubt creeping into their heads. My children are forever my rockstars.

A woman in me, would slave away to slaughter the fatted calf ( Gosh! is it even kosher to say that anymore? ) for my children but wouldn’t bat an eyelid grabbing the last bite of cheesy pizza or the crispy fries, off their plates.

I am best buds with my children. Many a time, they are my shoulder to cry on. But bring the house down, I will, if I don’t get requisite respect.

A woman in me, would burn the midnight oil and sit alongside the children while they attempt to crack various exams but would not think twice, snoozing off in the warm rajai and letting the daughter miss the school bus.

What fun it is to snuggle around, gossip and chomp away.

I am filled with jealousy, with fire rising through my nostrils,  whenever I see a nymphet without  an ounce of fat on her, runs past me without losing a beat while I pound the walkway, barely managing an even breath with my lungs literally hanging out. Show me her driveling cutesy little moppet, I go all gooey and smothery.

I still love my man to death even though I discover through my trial by fire that he is no longer the hero of my marital dreams but still a very honorable man. I treasure our love mellowed by life’s lusty lashings and love the familiar comfort of our ripened marriage. Because I realize that love is simply being there and is all about celebrating small pleasures together.

The woman in me, appreciates that he may not give me roses but will not be a thorn in my way and that he may not give chocolates but let’s me chill and carve my own path.

The woman in me loves those warm calls from parents who still care for me as their little girl while I aspire and strive to be the much weathered woman of the world. I understand that for a loving mom, her darling progeny is always a child, no matter however grown up.

When I toggle between being a daughter and a mother, it’s always packing & unpacking of emotions.

The woman in me, would leave no stone unturned to have a thriving career and growing finances but would not mind coyly batting eyelids and dragging the husband to every happening sale, to empty his wallet.

What can I say but  there are times when every inch of my core screams ‘you ain’t got it in you to swing this!’

So I get busy, lest those doubting monsters trip and maul me, coaxing those winding, wandering thoughts into abiding silence, to carve out my insanely impossible dreams

Because hope floats and the fearless mind is my horizon

My family sustains me

The aphrodisiac power of likes motivate me

My dreams drive me and my accomplishments complete me. 

God, be there for me please.. Always

Just treat me to a plate of Kulfi Falooda, gimme a warm smile. I am all yours.