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An abortion can be a harrowing experience for a woman, scarring her for ever. A poignant portrayal of a mother's loss, in this short poem.
An abortion can be a harrowing experience for a woman, scarring her for ever. A poignant portrayal of a mother’s loss, in this short poem.
Something inside me died today, Churning my insides into a rage. Unacknowledged screams of an acknowledged silence, A bastard unborn, forgotten.
Melancholy set inside of me today, Turning this room into a cage. My insides lie on a plate like a frozen dish served, An underbelly of a weeping willow bellowing from under below.
An existentialists heaven draws lines, The non believer overlooks. The tell tale signs of a love forsaken, The death of that dying within.
They danced that day, they plastered a sinister smile, On a face painted gay growing morose over a while. The wildflowers bloomed, the mocking Jay ‘jayed’, It was a happy day for both the dying and the dead.
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Published here earlier.
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Hi everyone, I am a teacher by profession and a restless being at heart. I am a writer more of conviction, less of vocabulary. My restlessness along with my compulsive desire for learning anything new read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Being a writer, Nivedita Louis recognises the struggles of a first-time woman writer and helps many articulate their voice with development, content edits as a publisher.
“I usually write during night”, says author Nivedita Louis during our conversation. Chuckling she continues,” It’s easier then to focus solely on writing. Nivedita Louis is a writer, with varied interests and one of the founders of Her Stories, a feminist publishing house, based in Chennai.
In a candid conversation she shared her journey from small-town Tamil Nadu to becoming a history buff, an award-winning author and now a publisher.
Nivedita was born and raised in a small town in Tamil Nadu. It was for schooling that she first arrived in Chennai. Then known as Madras, she recalls being awed by the city. Her love-story with the city, its people and thus began which continues till date. She credits her perseverance and passion to make a difference to her days as a vocational student among the elite sections of Madras.
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