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Smita Das Jain is the author of the bestselling short story collection, 'A Slice Of Life: Every Person Has A Story,' available worldwide on Amazon. Her E-book 'The Lost Identity' is available on Amazon. She loves writing contemporary stories with a twist and her works have appeared on StoryMirror, Penmancy, WordWeavers and Auroras & Blossoms Anthology. She is a writer by passion and writes every day. Samples of her writing are visible in the surroundings around her- her home office, her sunny terrace garden, her husband’s car, and the kitchen napkins.
In another world, when she is not writing, Smita is a Personal Empowerment and Executive Life Coach enabling people to create careers they love, find time to do what they like and live the life they choose. She is also a strategy professional with more than fourteen years of experience working in leadership roles at Fortune 500 companies. She is an IIM Indore and SRCC alumna.
Smita lives with her rockstar husband and her adorable eleven-year-old daughter in Gurugram, India.
“A woman has to work harder than a man in the same job to prove her worth. Having a career doesn’t make me a bad wife and mother.”
Distraught at the birth of yet another girl child, her father abandoned them soon after Kankana was born. Her mother had worked two shifts and yet not let her children feel the absence of a father.
Rashmi was aware that the path ahead would be formidable; but she was determined to #breakthebias against herself as a working mom.
It was Kiran’s turn to be quiet. She had never imagined a situation where her husband would ask her to help him out. Her mind drifted to that awful day three years ago.
“Your primary responsibility is to our family, Priya. Anyway, this is a temporary situation and will become redundant when work from office resumes. Until then, learn to adjust."
“You are not serious, right? You are about to graduate from one of the most prestigious colleges in the country and say you don’t want to work. Ridiculous. I mean, why study in the first place?”
“We sleep in each other’s arms every night and spend quality time during the weekends. Why is it necessary for me to be free and with you, every time that you are?”
“We all have our own ways of grieving,” Namrata said in a firm voice. “Sandhya was always close to her father. She does not need to justify her actions to outsiders.”
Shivani’s trickle of tears turned into a flood as she buried her face in her mother’s bosom. For a few minutes, the silence in the room was punctuated with Shivani’s sobs.
Prerna had not called me once in the last nine months. I had called her once three months earlier. She was polite and aloof, as one would be with a stranger.
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