Monday, 28 July 2014

I Killed My Daughter..

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

Sita lay in the hospital bed, softly caressing her flat womb and watching the evening fade into unholy darkness. Tomorrow they would reap out her fragile daughter and she would do it without flinching; she would do it to please her husband and his family for she no longer had the will to fight.

(Image Source: Google)

The disgrace, the hatred, the burden of raising a daughter would kill her from within and she would not dishonour her husband by bearing him the hated thing. That night she dreamt of little girls, their shoulders slackened, their faces bruised and their clothes bloodied as they helplessly stretched out their hands asking her to protect them from horrors unknown to her.

The next day, they killed her child but all that mattered was the smile on his lips, the approval in his eyes at her fearless deed and the lost acceptance radiating from his face as she slowly emerged from unconsciousness, still haunted by dreams of screaming little girls she couldn't save.

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Fearless

Friday, 25 July 2014

Book Review: A Deliberate Sinner

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Bhaavna Arora’s The Deliberate Sinner is her debut novel and I had much expectation from the book. With a cover that catches your attention instantaneously (also responsible for increasing my expectation quotient) and a prologue that seems both promising and emotional Bhaavna Arora does assure that her story clinches your attention. But the plot and the protagonist, Rihana Bajwa, unfailingly disappointed me at every turn in the book.

Rihana Bajwa, described as the so called smart, educated progressive Indian woman (to top that she is ‘ravishingly beautiful’ too), seems more prone to falling victim to her mother’s emotional drama than standing up for herself. She meets Veer on a trip to Thailand and agrees to marry him after he proves his prowess in the swimming pool doing a hundred laps at one go (yes that’s downright ridiculous). After a point she starts questioning her own decision and falls in love with her best friend Raj (the typical hero supposed to be her saviour). A steamy one night stand and a few love-struck moments later Raj develops cold feet and ditches Rihana who puts the incident behind her in hopes of a better future with Veer.

  Soon Rihana finds Veer unresponsive to her emotional and physical needs. Their tumultuous marriage further deteriorates when Rihana finds out about Veer’s affair. She again succumbs to social pressure (her independent personality hardly finds expression anywhere in the book) and agrees to give Veer a second chance. Veer (the perfect jerk from every aspect) rapes Rihana in hopes of getting her pregnant and all Rihana does is cry and whine over the phone.

Rihana Bajwa is the perfect damsel in distress who stands up for herself only towards the end of the book. Yes, Bhaavna Arora does try her hands at a bold book written to question the society as a whole and unabashedly explores the female sexuality, yet I expect more delicacy from a writer out to handle such a delicate issue. I was finding it immensely hard to sympathise with Rihana. What woman agrees to marry a man whom she had hardly known for a few months at most? Why does an independent and progressive woman like Rihana find excuses to stay in a marriage after she gets raped by her husband? And was the act she staged with her friend Avinash (Veer finds her making out with him) really necessary to break off the marriage? I mean didn’t she have reasons enough already?

Sadly, though the content is full of potential, the writer handles it messily. If you have a couple of hours to spare, you may want to read it. But read it without any expectation. Most importantly, do not expect to connect with Rihana for she is a weak protagonist, a protagonist who shall disappear from the recesses of your memory after you have finished the book. I look forward to stronger protagonists from the writer in the future.

Verdict: If you are willing to risk it!
Rating: 1.7/5

(To know more about the author Bhaavna Arora visit

 This review is a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Wednesday, 23 July 2014


(Image source: Google)

I looked at his body, so silent in death while my cries echoed round my heart. The pain, the humiliation, the fear all came back in a rush; the torment he had subjected me to night after night in the shabby attic while his wife lay asleep, blissfully unaware as my tattered body screamed silently in agony.  In the mornings I would go through the house like a ghost, his cold eyes following my frail body as I worked quietly in the kitchens, a maid by day and a whore by night.

(Image source: Google)

But I have had enough; I looked at the fresh blood staining my hands and slipped out quietly into the night. And as the rain washed away the blood and the pain, I disappeared into the dark, knowing his cold eyes would follow me no more.

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Rain

Monday, 21 July 2014

All Things Black and Beautiful..

As a child when I had first discovered the joy of giving form to the various images filling my yet tender mind, my little hands would struggle to clutch the precariously placed crayons my mother softly slipped between my fingers. Back then, I would splash the white pages with colour and watch fascinated as the images in my mind took distorted, innocent forms while my mother smiled seeing the rapture on my face. As I grew up, the images became more concrete and discernible and my mind grew an unprecedented affinity for the colour black. Every art for me was incomplete without its dark hue outlining the features of the running horse, the jumping clown or the solitary woman seeking solace amidst the rain. And now, as a woman, art finds form in the black kohl outlining my eyes and the painted nails peeping out from my shoes. Like the solitary woman in the rain, my life too seeks warmth in its dark shade, in the black ink that slowly fills the screen while words flow unbidden into my mind as I trod down the memory lane.
So here follows my ultimate wish-list, dedicated to the dramatic and glorious colour black!

(The Lost Black Watch)
I was always fascinated by watches though I never owned one of my own until my cousin decided to gift me a beautiful black belted watch while I was in high school. I was 15 years old then. For me it meant the world. I would repeatedly sneak glances in the midst of classes to check the time only to find myself admiring the contrast between the watch and my pale skin. The display too was done entirely in black with a thin silver border outlining the rectangular dial. To me, it was a constant companion, adorning my wrists wherever I went. Strange how we get so emotionally attached to those first treasured trinkets, don’t we? I lost it after three months. In my heart I knew it had been stolen but I had no definite proof and couldn't muster enough courage to confront the thief. I have owned innumerable watches after that, expensive and stunning ones too, yet that one simple black watch remains close to my heart.
A black thing I want to own? A watch, beautiful and simple like the one I owned; a black watch breathtakingly alike in all its glory adorning my wrists like it did so many years ago.

(Image Source:Google)
(My Collection of Short Stories, its cover done entirely in black)
It is a writer’s ultimate dream to see her works published and so is mine. I often look at the innumerable books tucked neatly in my shelf and wonder if I’ll ever make it to the shelf. Maybe, like many others, my dream too shall die or it may rise up from the burnt ashes like a phoenix to consume me in its wonder and ultimately find its way there. And I can die a happy and fulfilled woman. So yes, I would like to own a copy of Anusree’s Collection of Short Stories, its cover done entirely in black with a solitary woman standing on a hill, knowing her solitude is just an illusion while she rejoices being on top of the world.

 (Image Source:Google)
 (Batman’s Bike!!)
Remember that look of disbelief and awe when you watched Batman do that awesome flip with his bike as The Joker smiled evilly whilst fleeing from prison? Or the excitement as Anne Hathaway raced the bike in style as you sat on the edge of your seat wondering if Gotham would really burn to ashes? To be honest I still can’t get enough of the series. Those jet black tires doing an unbelievable 360 degree rotation and challenging the laws of physics and that bike itself!! If there is one out there like that, it is definitely on my list of black things!
(Image Source:Google) 
(Robes in Black)
My childhood was magical with wizards and witches flooding my imagination and owls, toads, cats and dragons being my idea of pets. Thanks to Rowling, she gave us Potter-maniacs hope and joy and made our childhood so much more beautiful. I cheered with the Gryffindors during Quidditch, rejoiced with them at the Triwizard Tournament, cried with Harry after Sirius died, sighed exasperatedly at Ron with Hermione and lived every wonderful moment at Hogwarts. I miss my childhood, I miss Hogwarts.
So another black thing on my list? A black robe with the miniature red lion of Gryffindor sewn intricately into the right side, to give me strength at the darkest of times and help me relive those past magical moments.
(Image Source:Google)
(Black Stilettos!)
And now, it’s time to indulge the woman within. Shoes are fascinating to women and ofcourse, I’m no exception. It’s strange how that one object can stimulate our brains and start fireworks up there! They say a woman armed with the right shoes and the right attitude can rule the world (wink!). And hence my ultimate black fantasy is a pair of stilettos which topped with the right attitude might actually help me rule the world someday (grinning)!

(Image Source:Google)
This contest is a part of #WhatTheBlack activity at

Sunday, 13 July 2014


Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

The lightning streaked through the clouds like a fiery bolt and illuminated her face. Her very sight took my breath away; her skin so pale and delicate like the petals of an innocent flower that had bloomed in a storm. But she was no innocent and his arms wrapped around her beautiful body filled me with a rage so uncontrollable and destructive that I plunged the knife into his heart.

Blood gushed through the open wound and stained her pale body red. I smiled to myself knowing the pages had finally turned and now she will be forever mine.

Written as part of the Five Sentence Fiction prompt.
Word Prompt: Pages
This 100 word fiction is also written for Friday Fictioneers.

Monday, 7 July 2014

Forever and Ever...

Deepak lay asleep beside me, satiated and drunk on desire, his snores filling the otherwise quiet room while the rain softly pelted the windows. I lay wide awake, overwhelmed and lost as I stared at his handsome face while his wonderful male scent filled my senses and stirred something deep within me. I looked on as questions filled my mind like an avalanche of destruction, whilst pain and hopelessness clouded the heart for I could not love Deepak. The heartbreaks, the failed relationships, the despair and cheating had left me incapable of love, incapable of feelings.
 Yet I had married Deepak, for he had loved me all through; he had watched me cry over those dim-witted jocks I dated in high school, watched me break my heart countless times in college, watched me stumble through one failed relationship after another and yet his love had never wavered but remained strong while I searched desperately to lean on to a man I could trust and love. In the end I had made a compromise and married the man who loved me instead of the man I had hoped to love.

I tossed around restlessly in bed, my heart a whirlpool of emotions while the sheets curled round my naked body, sheathing it from the dread and cold that suddenly engulfed my senses. Deepak had known all along for he had seen the emptiness in my eyes and the hurt I saw reflected in his broke my heart; yet he hoped that someday I might learn to love him back the way he had loved me all this time. I wished it would happen, I wished it were true. I had tried so hard to love him yet all I felt was emptiness. He deserved a woman who would fill him with so much joy and love that he would forget all the pain I had put him through.
 I left for office early that morning, leaving Deepak peacefully asleep while I plunged myself into work, the enormous figures a welcome distraction from the turmoil that now filled my days. I taxed my brains over their numerous complicacies seeking to forget my troubled thoughts. I returned late at night, exhausted and worn out, my head throbbing to find a note stuck to the refrigerator.

I'll be late,don't wait up for me...

I breathed a sigh of relief, for Deepak’s proximity muddled my senses and made rational thinking difficult. For once I won’t have to look at him and feel the guilt that suffused my senses on seeing him.  As I went round the house that night completing chores, I wondered for the hundredth time if I had made a mistake in marrying Deepak and destroyed both our lives in the process. He could have married someone who loved him back unlike me, moved on with his life. Yet the thought of him with another woman made me sad, for I was not willing to lose him. The way his eyes lighted up on seeing me, the way he made me feel so special were not things I was willing to let go. Was I being selfish?
As I was straightening the book shelf, dusting the old books that had gathered a thick layer of dust over time, a thick diary tumbled out and fell open at my feet. I could make out Deepak’s bold writing and all of a sudden I lunged at it, hoping to know the man whom I had so selfishly used to make me feel better about myself. That night my life turned upside down as I read those pages again and again, knowing that love as I knew it had changed forever.

I often wonder if she is real. The way her eyes sparkle with innocence while she shines brighter than every other girl around, the way she laughs like a carefree bird when happy and nervously chatters to herself when worried... I think I’m in love. I hope she would see me more than as a friend.
The half-wit broke her heart. I wish I could erase the pain but all I did was remain silent while she cried. It broke my heart to see her tears; it broke my heart to see her with him...
She is so beautiful she takes my breath away... Why can’t she see my love for her? I have tried to move on but in the end I keep coming back to her. I have never loved anyone the way I have loved her. I hit the half-wit today for he deserved it but in the end I felt nothing but despair...
She is moving to Delhi for her higher studies. Maybe I can finally move on...
I was up all night talking to her, listening to her tales of Delhi...
She is home. I met her today, she is as beautiful as ever and I still love her. But she seems unhappy, some failed affair with a guy who was cheating on her with her best friend. Those eyes, bright and enormous, still so innocent...
She accepted my proposal... But now all I want is to die for she does not love me. I saw it in her eyes, the emptiness, the dread. Yet it was all lost in the kiss; her lips, so soft and tender. I kissed her like my life depended on it. Someday she will love me back and until then I’ll wait. I’m here baby, always...
I see her trying so hard to make me happy. But I’m happy darling for I’m with you. All that makes me unhappy is you assaulting yourself with guilt over me. Don’t you see? You made me happy just by promising to be with me for my entire life. I wish I could hold you and tell you that it does not matter, I’ll take what you give me for my love is enough for the both of us. My love is enough...
As I read his diary, drinking in his words like a woman dying of thirst, I broke down. And my heart that had remained dead for so long, finally beat fiercely against my chest, loud and hard, for Deepak.

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