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I am a boring IT professional, lost in the monotonous world of Excel. So, I seek refuge in Word, pun intended.
And.. I am a crazy cat person, a badge I proudly flaunt.
Temsula Ao's Laburnum For My Head deals with eight utterly delightful, yet thought-provoking tales from Nagaland. I highly recommend this!
But one just needed to scratch the surface, and voila! It revealed a truth bitter than medicines. People behaved like dogs in heat, panting after anybody in a skirt or a saree.
Blame it on the wives! Did your husband bowl a wide? Did he drop a sitter? Did he get run out? It's your fault!
I tried to move my feet, but I couldn’t. I shivered, as the wind picked up its pace. The pain down there lingered, like a dull nagging ache.
By that time, a few other ladies had gathered around. Rumours fly faster than a supersonic plane in Indian societies. Chants of ‘new friend’ reverberated in front of the Goddess.
Her voice remained stifled inside the mould of clay, as the men revered Her as Maa, yet abused and molested the likes of Tumpa. But, on that Ashtami morning, the Goddess would witness something familiar – the defeat of Mahishasur.
"It was an accident. Of that I’m sure. But some people are hell bent on creating mischief. And Deepika hands it to them on a platter.”
I had been raised by feminist parents, and more so, a father, who had been 'bashed' by the 'well-wishers' for giving much 'freedom' to his daughter. He bears the brunt of it even now.
What if you find a letter addressed to you, folded within the pages of a treasured novel? From one of the protagonists, too! How would that make you feel?
“And then, you glided into my life. You know? I had always admired your guts, and wondered why I couldn’t muster up the courage to take initiatives.” The Muse of the Month is a monthly writing contest organised by Women’s Web, bringing you original fiction inspired by women. Narayani Manapadam is one of the winners for the […]
I cupped Abir’s face in my hands and kissed him. He didn’t respond. I recoiled in shame. His look would haunt me forever. If there was a word for sympathy mixed with scorn, that was it! I felt my world crashing down that day.
But he loved and respected me. He made me feel intelligent. Mohan had even refused to discuss what was wrong with him. These were apparently matters beyond the comprehension of a woman, he had felt.
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's Rani Jindan, the Last Queen of Punjab, is a flawed, real woman, who does not hesitate to do what she must.
Parents who toil away to ensure that the wedding goes off without a glitch, are shamed indirectly for bringing a girl into this world – who cares for their state of minds?
Not to be outdone, the journalist continued. “You have mentioned it’s an erotic genre. And then an ex-lover. Don’t you think your female protagonist is behaving like a whore?”
My parents and I have received a lot of 'friendly advice' from interfering family members under the guise of being my 'well wishers'. Just. Keep. Away.
Though I have always been a fan of mythology, I often wondered if the plight of women has changed since then. And I ask, what about her?
The four characters belong to the same locality. Each having their own issues. Each thinking the other is having a fun-filled life. Until they decide to cross the boundaries set by the society.
A few thrusts and grunts later, he rolled off her and drifted off to sleep. Laila adjusted her negligee and started counting imaginary stars in her ceiling.
There is an inexplicable void inside me. I feel like a pawn of the universe. But I guess I am. My entire life has been an indication of that.
Despite having five husbands, a sense of emptiness overwhelms me. And out of sheer fury, frustration and helplessness, I speak.
She is a harbinger of ill luck, they scorned, as Anadi Babu’s dead body was brought in from the police station. A hit-and-run case.
My dear Anjali… you are better off marrying Aman. That is, if you love him. Else just live your life, lady. Slip into those pants. Tie that bandana around your unruly hair. But please, say a resounding no to Rahul.
I supress the anger rising inside me. An outburst of my fury would mean I am culpable. And I refuse to take the blame on my shoulders.
I take his hand in mine and rub the back of his palm with my thumb, a gesture he has always enjoyed. Not today. Because he recoils.
It’s not your duty to please everyone. You don't have to be the perfect woman. What would you tell your 20-year old self?
She knew her deeds would come home to roost. But she was a mere mortal. And when tragedy struck a blow deadlier than a lightning, a numbness had engulfed her.
Though always smiling and jolly, princess Uttara was unaware of her own will power. All it needed a tragedy of a monstrous magnitude to unravel it.
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