Kiss of Love

Marriages are tough to manage and if it is an Indian marriage, God be with you. Aniket was looking for his one chance since morning to kiss Kaajal whereas she had kept herself busy with something or the other, and necessarily so. Managing the wedding of your younger sister is no small task. Each and every relative has to be given the highest level of importance or else the taunts shall be made at the poor wedding planning for at least a decade. In some cases, those were the kids of the couple getting married who grew up enough to tell the grown-ups to stop acting childish. Kaajal didn’t want to be blamed for anything. She was making sure every guest was well fed because, logically, that is what Indian weddings are all about. Continue reading

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Bohni*

‘Bhenchod! This shutter gets stuck only at the time of bohni!’ grunted Chandan, trying to roll up the shutter of his shop, ‘and this Raju is of no use as well. I’ve been continuously telling him to get it repaired! Madarchod, all he wants is to smoke beedis, that’s all!’

Even at the age of sixty, Chandan had never been a minute late than six o’ clock in the morning to open his shop of medical supplies in Nauroji Nagar market. Opening the shop earlier than everyone provided him an extra edge over the other chemists near Safdarjung hospital or even the ones in front of AIIMS. Doctors at both the hospitals were aware of Chandan’s routine of opening his shop earlier than usual, therefore most of the midnight patients were told to buy medicines from his shop. Continue reading

Motherhood

The problem was not that she was about to deliver a baby, the problem was that she was unmarried. Though being unmarried and delivering a baby is not a crime in the eyes of law, but it is one of the most heinous crimes in the eyes of society in India. The crime becomes a little more intolerable when the woman who is unmarried and about to deliver a baby comes from a lower caste of the society. In such a case, everyone gets to say something about the vulgarity and unacceptability of the act. I wonder at times, if it is encoded in our genes to reproduce in order to make sure the survival of our species, why does the act of reproduction, be it having sex without marriage or delivering a baby without being married, happen to be such a big taboo if it is not performed by the consent of the family members or the society?

Bindiya’s case was a little different. Even before Bindiya could figure out what was wrong with her, she was three months pregnant. Sulakshana, her mother, took her to a local dispensary when Bindiya complained of missing her periods for the third time in three consecutive months. Continue reading

True Lie

It was a time when I used to lie a lot. So much that lying had become a habit in me. My first response to any question was a lie. I enrolled in a computer literacy course for one year after my school finished. Honestly, it is the only worthy education I have had after my schooling that proved beneficial for my life ahead. My computer teacher was a Kashmiri girl in her mid-twenties. I am naming her ‘Naina’ in this account. She signed up as a teacher in the mid-term and in few weeks, she was a favourite among the students because of the knowledge she possessed. It was the end of the year and during those festive days from Christmas to New Year’s Eve, I didn’t attend any classes. Upon joining back again after almost a week, I was asked the reason of my regular absence. I lied yet again, but quite a wayward one this time. Continue reading

Survival

“Bloody rats! Curse you! Curse you to your death!”, he shouted in anger.

The rats felt the wrath for a while, as they hid themselves behind the sack but as soon as he quieted, rats began running all over the sack once again, passing in and out of the sack through the several holes they created. He tried his best to fill the gaping holes with more rags, but rats had developed a taste for the rags. Rags were bitten away sooner than they were put to shut the gaps.

It was mid winter and in northern India. Two seasons are considered the worse by the homeless citizens of the country. Mid-winter, when it is chilly enough to freeze anybody to death and mid-summer when heat waves across northern India mercilessly takes uncountable lives. There was a time when such news used to become the head lines of the daily news, but as India prospered and wealth started pouring in, the news agencies started to give more importance to the coverage of political scams, international visits of the various Head of State personnel and sports. Common man was left behind and he learned to live thinking of himself as nothing more than an instrument to be used by political parties once in every five years. Continue reading

One Day

One day can do wonders, yes it can.

One morning he woke up and felt a strong headache, a throbbing pain across the left side of his face. The pain started from the jaw, spread across his cheeks, left eye, forehead and went till behind the left ear. He remained still for a moment, thinking it will be over soon but it didn’t get any better. He checked his phone, read few emails, a couple of facebook notifications, some text messages, but he was looking for something else. Continue reading

The Happy Rebel

He is popularly known as ‘The Happy One’. In Jammu, you will find him at a busy traffic junction, standing beside traffic police inspectors, or you will find him at the crowded bus stops. Wherever you see him, you will see him smiling the broadest smile possible for him. He would behave very generously, offer you a shady standing area, will inform you about the buses which are yet to come. At first, you might think he is a mad man, but let me make it clear, he is not mad, he is happy.

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