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Month: January 2017

Kindred Soul

Source Chellama was playing with my five-year-old daughter while I entered my home.  They heard my footsteps and looked up. My little Kithi came running towards while Chellama got up and headed towards the kitchen. Five minutes later I was served some hot ginger chai and onion pakora. It was a routine that started four years back. I sat down on the little-cemented corridor of my single bedroom house and watched my two beautiful angels play. Tears kissed my eyes as I watched them play, my mind drifting back to that rainy day, four years back Four years before: I stood at the bus stop holding my little one close to my bosom. She snuggled up to me as I tried to infuse all the warmth left in me. There was nothing much left. I stood shivering as the cool breeze showered me with an occasional drizzle. Maybe the chillness was within me. I waited at the bus stop with nowhere to go, looking at the buses, trying to figure out my destination; and that’s when I met her. She looked at me with a curious smile. Her unkempt white hair looked sticky and caked with portraying years of abandon. Her skin looked parched, and the wrinkles were pronounced. She wore a dirty striped white shirt that hung about her knees. It had hidden most of the soiled and...

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The wedding night

Source She sat on the edge of the large mattress, her finger gently tracing the rose trellis pattern of the pale blue lace curtain that covered hung from the ceiling of the large four poster bed.  The mild scent of agarbathi nauseated her. The sickly sweet smell of jasmines woven around her long braid made her feel dizzy. She took a deep breath. She looked around without seeing, and her mind dismissed the tray of fruits and milk with dispassion. The door creaked, and she jumped. He stood there in a white Kurta looking uncertain. She curled herself into a fetal position closing her eyes shut as memories of the past began to flood her mind. Three years back: She sat in the middle of the master bed, waiting for her husband. The wedding had been a quick one as the groom had just fifteen days before he had to leave to Canada. Her parents had cross verified the social status of the groom’s family, micro-analyzed the horoscopes, cross consulted three astrologers, and everything said he was the perfect match. On her part, she was fascinated about living in a foreign country. One look at his unruly curly hair, straight nose and perfect white teeth, she fell for him like a piece of log. They didn’t have much of conversations in the fifteen days, just occasional greetings and tentative...

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Her first date

Source She stood frowning at her reflection in the mirror shaking her head in disapproval. I took a deep, exasperated breath. The red sheath gown looked stunning on her. The collar just dipped off her shoulders revealing a wheat-gold complexion and ended as long sleeves that ended near her wrist. The full-length gown gently hugged her curves and glided down her legs. She was simply ravishing; so much in contrast to the demure suits and the stiff cotton sarees that she usually chose. Her hands went automatically went to the pastel pink lipstick tube. I shook my head negative. She sighed with resignation. “Let me dress you up today” I rubbed my hands together getting down to business; I was stunned by my result. A dash of red lipstick, a filigree earring of sterling silver, a chic messy chignon, and a sexy pair of brown eyes that sparkled with wisdom and intelligence; I have seen her walk down to a conference in a demure grey suit and win arguments with calm, sophisticated nonchalance. This woman looking back at me in the mirror was the stark opposite of everything I’ve seen and known. She was a siren in bold red, a piece of crackling fire, a drop from the fiery red glow of the sun. “Liking what you’re seeing?” she asked me with a smirk “Loving it!” I breathed back....

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The day of Dim Dim

Velachery is an astounding amalgamation of people, culture, mosquitoes and concrete. Ten years ago we prided ourselves with the extraordinary amounts of trees and deer that inhabited the Checkpost area, today we boast about the marble marvel called Phoenix market city, sipping a cuppa from the Starbucks. One such prominent chrome and glass structures that dominate the Velachery area is the “Saravana Stores  ” building (formerly a nameless, forgotten data centre that housed some poor IT folks) “Saravana Stores  ” is your go-to place when you have:   1) a mid-month bra crisis 2) your mother’s shopaholic alibi rears her head up with a vengeance 3) a dreary day and desperately in need some entertainment 4) All the above.  I chose option 4. The shop is everything you imagine it to be. From the vendors who milk your money with flashy pink teddy bear balloons to the cheap tasting popcorns. I walked past the Golden fake archway that threatens to fall any time on you, the unsmiling woman with a faded white silk saree, the humongous crowd, the malfunctioning ACs that work surprisingly well only near the doors fascinated by the sheer amount of people I dragged my fascinated mum through the crowd and paved my way towards the elevator. After ten futile minutes waiting for the elevator, we huffed and puffed through the stairs to reach the fifth floor....

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The pouch of silver coins

Source  I slammed my alarm shut and rolled about in bed. I gave a punch to his pillow and settled comfortably. Outside I could hear the familiar sounds of water poured into the big cement tub. The familiar pungent scent of cow dung hit my nostrils; I glanced at my alarm clock whose neon coated dial flashed 5.10AM. I sighed. Time to get up; He grabbed his toothbrush, squirted some toothpaste and walked outside. I had about ten minutes before he had to collect the fresh cow dung and take it to Valli akka next door. I leant against the back door and looked at his grandfather. Kannaiah bustled around carrying a stack of hay to feed the cows. His dark skin glistened in the early light, the rays reflecting through the drops of sweat that moistened his skin, creating a faint aura about him. At sixty-five, his body held the scars of a lifetime of hard work and battles toned down by the delicate web of wrinkles that covered him all over. His tuft of white silvery grey hair was barely visible through the red bandana that covered his head. He turned around to look at his grandson and his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Hurry up, lad! “He mused with enthusiasm. “Tomorrow is a big day.” I tried to hide my resignation behind a small frown. Tomorrow...

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