Under The Influence

The following events are true and have taken place in my life. Although the names have been changed for obvious reasons.

Date: 11th April, 2019, Thursday.
Time: 6:40 P.M.
I was walking out of my office with my laptop hanging over my left shoulder and my cell-phone in right hand. While I was scrolling through the pictures in my Instagram® feed, a Whatsapp® Message popped up on my cell-phone screen.
Shreya: Got a new Mercedes… Lets go for a drive someday…!!!
She sent me picture too and I loved it…!!
Me: Sure. Whenever u say…! 😊

Date: 14th April, 2019, Sunday
Time: 9:30 P.M
I was watching Avengers Infinity War on my laptop snuggling comfortably between sheets with my shorts and tea. Thanos had just snapped his fingers and wiped half the universe. I was a bit emotional when spider-man got swept away and then she called me. She does have a bad timing when it comes to calling me.
Shreya: Hey, where are you now?
(she was excited as always.)
Me: Was watching Avengers Infinity War. Why? What has happened now?
(I smirked and enquired.)
Shreya: Me and Vineet (her brother) are waiting outside your home for a drive around the city. Run and come fast. We are waiting.
Me: I had dinner a few minutes ago. I am too dizzy to go for a drive.

After few minutes, I was there, they were there and it was there too. A perfect black S class Mercedes with the much-seen Mercedes emblem on the front. I stepped in the rear trying to fit in without scratching anything. The Car looked extravagant from the inside with its brown leather seats and controls on the steering. Vineet was on the driver seat and Shreya was sitting on his left.

My family had owned a sky-blue Maruti Suzuki ® WagonR for years which I had learnt to drive a few months ago. So, I could only imagine sitting in a Mercedes let alone sit in it. Naturally, I was anxious and fascinated with the numerous buttons and function that the car performed.

Vineet connected his cell-phone with the music system and tuned to punjabi songs as he zapped through the traffic. He would speed up as he got space on the road and brake suddenly as he had someone or something ahead him. I had cursed him a lot for this.

Vineet: Where we should go?
Shreya: Let’s go to meet Vishal (our common friend whom we hadn’t seen for weeks) …!!
And we agreed.
I was feeling sick after few minutes of drive but I judged it would be over soon. Obviously, I was wrong.

After a good twenty minutes of feeling motion sickness and food churning in my stomach, we had reached Vishal’s place which was across the town. He wasn’t picking the call so I went upstairs to bring him down to hang with us. Though he was reluctant but he agreed. I asked him to bring a bottle of water with him.

He got a bottle with basil leaves floating in it. Obviously, everyone drank but we made sure to make fun of the basil leaves. Soon we left and were driving towards home.

Me: Vineet, STOP THE CAR…!!! (I screamed.)
He thought that I was joking and he continued to drive.
Me: Vineet, STOP THE CAR…!!! (I screamed again.)
He got serious and stopped the car after finding a spot to park.

Seconds before he parked, I had puked all over my clothes and my hands so that the car didn’t get dirty. I unlocked the gates with my one clean hand and puked on the road side. Shreya offered me a half-filled water bottle which obviously wasn’t enough. I ran across the highway to get water from a small hut and wiped myself. These two idiots were sitting in the car and giggling at me.
I was in the car, again. The car smelled of my vomit. I hadn’t stopped feeling sick.
It was my turn to be made fun of and these two morons left no stone unturned to do so. Well, that’s what friends are for. Isn’t it? I cursed his driving skills relentlessly. He even sprayed perfume all over himself and me. We three would remember this drive for the rest of our lives.

Soon, we reached the gates of my colony. I asked them to drop me and drive home safely. I wanted a walk. I had some water from a tea stall and a boy at the stall walked me home.
I reached home at 11:30 P.M. I underwent a serious interrogation. Well, don’t judge me. I come from a Marwari Family. We sleep at 11:00 P.M.
I changed clothes and hid them and slept laughing at the past two hours of my life.


Love That Consumes You…!!!

It was the start of 4th day of June, 2017, Sunday. Karthik was in deep sleep when his cell-phone started ringing. He got up and reached for his cell-phone. He rubbed his sleep-desiring eyes to see who was calling him at this hour. It was his girlfriend, Rashmi, whom he had been in relationship with since the February of 2014. He picked up the call.

“Hello Rashmi, are you ok? You called at this hour.”  Enquired Karthik, worried.

“I saw a bad dream and I couldn’t get back to sleep. So I called you.” Rashmi replied. Karthik could hear her sobbing.

“Hey, tell me naa, what did you see? Share it with me. But please stop crying. Please.” He tried to cheer her and share what was troubling her.

Karthik had been noticing the change in her behavior during their late night calls. She had been trying to slip away from the calls during the days due to her work and during the nights, her tired body and mind drifted her to sleep. Fights had replaced the romantic calls that embraced love and laughter. However, Karthik had believed it to be because of her hectic work schedules and enormous responsibilities of her family which she had to fulfill since the day her parents passed away five years ago. She had upheld responsibilities of her younger brother Mohit and younger sister Riya.  Soon after their demise, she had started art classes in the drawing room of her apartment during her mornings. Her evenings were spent playing piano at the Hotel Raj International. Her tired soul found solace when her siblings hugged her as she returned home.

“The dream was about us. We were getting married and during one of the rituals…” She was narrating and then she started shedding tears. Karthik was trying hard to cheer her up and made her to continue narrating the dream.

“During one of the rituals, a fire broke into the house and… everything was destroyed…” She was in tears again. Karthik told her to wait as he ran down the stairs. He raced his new Pulsar, which he had bought last month, to a 24 hour ice-cream parlour and ordered a take away of butterscotch tub. It was her favourite. He, then, quickly rushed to Rashmi’s apartment, which was two blocks away from his apartment. He parked his bike in the parking lot and paced onto the stairs to reach her apartment. He rang the bell. She opened the door and jumped onto him to hug him tightly. He also returned back the hug by drifting his palm on the back. The tears had made marks on his t-shirt. Karthik held her close as both moved into the flat. Within few minutes, spoons were being used to attack the tub of ice-cream. Rashmi narrated the entire dream and reasons for keeping distance from Karthik.


Karthik held her hand and intertwined his fingers with her and let out a sigh with a smile “They are my family too. We will never leave them alone. How could you even think that? I will never ask you to do that. I love you, Rashmi and I would never want you to make a choice where you have to choose between me and them. I will wait for you as long as it takes. We will always keep them protected and happy. It doesn’t matter to me when we get married. I need you to stay happy with me and your happiness lies in their smile. I will never do anything in my power to let that smile go off your face even for a second. I love you dear. Will you marry me?” He pulled out a ring from his ring finger and went on his knees.


“Yes… Yes, a thousand times yes…Aaah an old ring though…!” She laughed as both of them came close and kissed each other.



Somewhere In My Life..♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in the dark sky,

A gleaming star twinkled by…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in my death,

You’ve been a child’s first cry…♥♥♥♥♥


Somewhere in my anger,

You make me smile moments later…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in my webbed life,

You make my life better…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in your short stare,

You show me a heaven of care…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in making you smile,

I live my life quarter to mile…♥♥♥♥♥


Somewhere in our hugs and kisses,

Emotions of love that my heart wishes…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere between our silences,

There were thousand words in our voices…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in letting you walk away,

I’ve been dead that moment away…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere in our complaints from each other,

Days passed and you didn’t bother…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere between making me and leaving me,

You have taught me to love me…♥♥♥♥♥

Somewhere between my beginning and end,

You have made me a better person, lover and friend…♥♥♥♥♥

For the Love that will always be my love…♥♥♥♥♥

#love #poems #iloveyou

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Finding Love Coincidentally

Hello friend,
I was Pragati Garg – a 26-year-old-chubby girl who was giving her 4th attempt at being a Chartered Accountant and simultaneously working at a CA firm nearby. I have lived with my grandparents since the day I lost my mom to cancer. Few years after my mother lost her life, my father decided to re-marry which wasn’t approved by my grandparents so he decided to move out and live separately with his new wife and my brother was born a few years later.


Living with grandparents has always been a delight with a responsibility attached to it. My mornings would start with Grandma waking me up for my morning tea with grandpa and her. I had reminders in my cell-phone for ordering their medicines, taking them for their regular check-ups, paying bills, call the maid, and occasionally cooking for them.

It is often said that life is unpredictable. I could never fathom that my life was going to change the day I met Dilip at my intermediate coaching centre. His height was the same as mine. He would sit on the bench ahead of me and would often turn back to talk to my best friend and me during breaks. I liked the way he smiled at my silly questions. We got along with each other. We would often end up spending hours on calls or chats discussing the concepts or we would randomly talk about our food choices and favorite spots to hang. He even told me about the members of his joint family. We were friends for almost half a year when we realised our feelings for each other. We were among those people who would propose or confess love to each other through actions rather than a grand gesture. We would spend our Sundays riding on his scooty to far places. We would hug each other seeing the sunsets. He would kiss my forehead and say “I’ll always be by your side.” He realised my love for shopping and would accompany me just for giving his opinions and standing outside the changing room. It was 2016, I had cleared my intermediate exams and sadly, Dilip hadn’t been able to clear intermediate levels so he chose to quit giving exams for CA and start his consultancy and accounting firm. I supported his decision as he would get sad and depressed seeing FAIL in his intermediate results. Within a few months, he managed to run his firm and was hiring accountants to help him out. I was happy that he chose to quit and find his calling. Four years had passed of our relationship. We have had our fair share of happy moments and fights too. I was a foodie and loved trying new items on the menu card whilst he chose whatever came cheap. We would often get into fights if I chose to gift him something which he thought was a bit expensive. I was happy with him. He would care for me on the days I felt sick or he would bring food on the days I felt hangry.

It was November of 2018. A few of our relatives had started suggesting boys to my grandparents as a suitable match for me. I kept rejecting the matches as I had qualms about getting married at an early age. I knew in my heart that my grandparents wouldn’t agree for my marriage with Dilip. He lived in a joint family which had a dispute going between them and had weaker financial condition than us. I know I might be wrong to you for ending it now. But, deep inside, I didn’t want to hurt the two people who were closest to me. He had bought me up and wanted to get me married to a family of his choice. So, we chose to break up. I didn’t cry. I went numb and stopped believing in love. I would smile in front of everyone and had started avoiding the people closest to me rather than making them understand what I was feeling. Each night, I would lay in my bed trying hard to delete the pictures but failed. I tried to move on but the memories made it difficult for me.

Months passed by. Relatives were putting in their best effort to push in the boy for me and I was being stubborn at rejecting them giving a fresh reason for the rejection.

It has been eight months since I broke up with my boyfriend. To be honest, it still did hurt a lot.

Date: 23rd July, 2019, Tuesday
Time: 10: 00 P.M

After a tiring day at the office and a sumptuous dinner prepared by my grandma, I walked up to my bed. Pulling over the sheet, I shut my eyes. The cell-phone beeped calling me for my attention. It was a Whatsapp message from Ashwin saying ‘Hey… How are you?!!’ I read the message from the notification and decided to reply to him tomorrow. After making efforts to ignore him for few minutes, I replied to him with a ‘Hi. I am fine. How are you?’ Our chat and messages ended at 02:00 A.M when I wasn’t able to keep my eyes open. I woke up in the morning thinking about him and something he said stuck in my head for the day. He said, with a hint of hesitation “my parents are searching for a girl for me and even your parents are searching for a boy for you. I have known you for over a year now. So… let us marry each other…” I laughed at that last night to avoid his not-so-subtle proposal. I called up my friend, Sahil, and narrated him the entire conversation from the last night. He burst into laughter and named him ‘Shah Rukh Khan.’ Ashwin and I were chatting with each other throughout the day and night but I had informed him about my break-up and that I wasn’t ready for marriage. Though, he had a liking for me but he chose to leave that idea for a while.


I saw Ashwin for the first time at a wedding of a relative. He appeared to be a regular boy with spectacles on his eyes. One could tell his love for food from the way he walked to try food from every counter. As I paced from one counter to the other, I had my eyes set on him. The next morning, I woke up with my hands searching for my cell-phone. I found a friend request from him on Facebook. I accepted it, instantly. He had sent a ‘Hey’ and then our chats began. Its how we became friends after meeting once or twice at marriages.

It had been six months now. We were getting closer to each other after our numerous trips to the hills and eating with him at my favourite restaurants. He made me laugh and understood my mood swings. It was during one of our late-night calls, he said “have you ever given a thought about marrying me?” I kept mute. He understood and told me to take my time to think about it. He had shared his fears and had talked about his responsibilities of being the only son to his parents with me.

A week later, I hadn’t slept the last night. Early morning, I walked up to my grandpa and stood in front of him. I said, being sheepish “I know a guy. I have known him for a year. If you allow, I want to marry him.” After a few seconds of silence, he threw in a few questions about Ashwin and I answered them. The questions ended soon as my family knew everything about his family. A few days later, my grandpa and father went to his shop to meet Ashwin and his father. A few days after the meet, the relationship was agreed upon by both sets of families.

I was engaged to Ashwin on 15th December, 2019. I wore henna coloured Salwar Suit and Ashwin dressed up in a white shirt and grey trousers with a navy-blue blazer. I had invited Priyanka and Shweta to help me in case I freak out. The ceremony took place in a banquet hall decorated with roses and jasmine. WE WERE OFFICIAL TOGETHER.


The courtship period had begun. We would talk throughout the day and the night as the government had imposed lockdown in the state due to COVID-19. I loved it when he would call me with different nicknames and would tell me everything about his day in detail and asked me about my day. As it rained, he would come under my house and take me for a drive. He would play soft Bollywood songs and let me keep my head on his shoulder as he drove the car outside the city. We would stop at a secluded place to enjoy the view and breathe in some fresh air. He would place his arms around my waist and pull me towards him. He would look into my eyes as he would keep moving his lips towards my cheeks and place them gently on them. I would feel shy and smile as I look towards the ground. We would return late evening after a delicious meal. He would plan gift surprises with my best-friends to surprise me. My grandma loved clicking pictures with him. As four months ended of our courtship period, he arrived under my building along with my friends and with balloons and cakes to surprise me. He knew how to celebrate precious moments which were of utmost importance to me. We would often discuss the colour-coordinated dresses or the decorations. we had decided to leave for the pre-wedding shoot. We both were hesitant about the video so we just stuck to the pictures and the pictures came out beautiful as we had imagined it to be. He would take keen interest in discussing my jewelery or my make-up but like me was least interest in discussing dance performance.

The date of the marriage was set on 16th April, 2020 but was later postponed to 30th June, 2020 after a series of debates. Finally, the date arrived. I was going to be a wife to my husband. I wore a red bridal lehenga and he wore a cream coloured sherwani with a turban. The guest list was around 100 people. I could feel the love filling inside me as he pinched on the vermillion and applied it in my hair partition and tied the mangalsutra around my neck. The ceremony ended late after seeking blessings of the elders for the next phase of our lives. I AM MRS. PRAGATI AGARWAL now.


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Love Over Lockdown

coupleIt had been a two-weeks since the government had announced lockdown within the country. If it were a normal day, both would have been busy fidgeting on their computer screens in their respective offices.

Their day would start with them struggling to wake each other up for their meeting and con-calls. After an endearing struggle, one would wake up and pull off the sheet over the other. Keshav had always been a coffee person and after a ton of coffee dates, Payal too had developed a delight for it. He would walk towards the kitchen to prepare their coffee. Both would savour it while watching the morning sunrise and talking about their dreams.

Keshav had always been in love with his kitchen and food. During the initial days of their relationship, a drive would involve him packing food for the road, for her. Though, as the years passed, his work timings hadn’t left him much space and time for his cooking skills. Since the lockdown began, Keshav would cook a sumptuous breakfast for her which would leave the dining table decorated with toasts, juices, bacon and some boiled corn for the breakfast.


Both would often play Ludo or toss a coin to distribute household chores among them. the loser would often end up dusting and cleaning the house and utensils. The winner had to just wash and hang up the clothes to dry.

After few hours of their working from home and grazing over lunch, in their pyjamas, Keshav would lie on the bed exhausted and at that moment, Payal would jump n cuddle him for their evening sleep.

The sun had turned red after brightening an entire day. Payal placed the coffee mugs on the table in front of her and rested herself on the wooden couch, in the balcony, as rays of the setting sun lit up her face. She screamed for Keshav, who was buried in his book. They had been living together as a couple for over a year now. It was the favourite part of her day when she would sip her coffee and Keshav would sit next to her on the beanbag telling her about the characters from his book or share incidents from his childhood. He would often pause in between for her reactions. She would hold his hand and smile like a kid making him share more with her.


Late evenings were reserved for conference video calls to and from their common friends and family. Keshav and Payal would dial-up both sets of parents and talk about their day. The call would end with the elders advising the younger lot to take care of themselves.

Payal would cook his favourite dinner, fried rice and Manchurian, and had set the dining table for them. A candle flame danced on the table as both took chances to feed each other. Keshav and Payal had a soft corner for mangoes. Payal had sliced them up for them to devour upon after the dinner.

After an hour or two of browsing content over Netflix, both would kiss each other and snuggle off to sleep.



Sumitra’s father and Ashok’s father hailed from the same village in the Jalpaiguri District of the West Bengal. Sumitra’s father was a painter and would often travel to Siliguri in search of jobs. Ashok’s father, on the other hand, had bought an auto on loan and would drive around Siliguri earning his livelihood.

Sumitra had spent her childhood in the village’s primary school and her adolescent learning household chores from her mother and aunts. As a kid, Sumitra would often hang on to her father’s shirt begging him to take her to the town. She had always imagined and gossiped with her friends about the town. Every morning, her neighbours would hear her singing prayers in the temple, in the courtyard. As she grew up, she had been fascinated by the only pharmacy in the village and would often ask her mother about the medicines she had to intake when she fell ill. As she grew up, Sumitra knew that she wanted to be a doctor like her Pratham Uncle, who had opened his clinic in the village, but she was meant to stay within the four walls of her home. Every evening before the sun began to set, Sumitra’s mother would scream and call Sumitra to remind her to fetch water from the nearby well. It was Sumitra’s favourite time of the day. She would meet her best friends and chatter on the side of the pond. In the evening, she would help her mother in preparing food for the family.

Ashok studied in the same school as Sumitra’s but had been sent to Siliguri for higher studies by his father. He would often tug his earphones in his ears, while doing his chores, and would hum the tunes, he had composed, to arrange it into a meaningful song. Ashok was among the toppers in his school in the city and was studying diligently to be a lawyer. As he turned twenty-five, Ashok had completed his studies and landed a job with a prominent lawyer in the city. In the village, Ashok’s father had begun his search for a girl for his son and who would take care for his wife and him during their old age.

It was when she had turned seventeen, Sumitra’s father began his search for a suitable boy for her. He would often ask his acquaintances across the village to get a reference of a suitable match. On a Sunday morning, after the panchayat meeting, Sumitra’s father walked up to Ashok’s father and with his head bowed and hands folded, he asked for his daughter’s marriage with Ashok. Ashok’s mother wanted him to marry the daughter of her distant relative as she would bring a sizeable dowry along with her.

The marriage happened in the summers of 2013 in the village’s only marriage hall, when Sumitra had turned nineteen and Ashok was twenty-seven. The entire village had attended the wedding to bless the couple. Sumitra’s father had instructed the decorators to decorate the entire hall with fresh flowers. He had even hired the famous cooks in his village to cook a flavoursome meal for the groom’s family. Months ago, Sumitra’s father had to beg to the village merchant for a loan to manage a handsome dowry for the groom’s family. The groom’s family and relatives arrived on a bus and had begun dancing on the beats of songs played by the musicians. They were welcomed with vermillion on the forehead by Sumitra’s mother and Sumitra’s father adored them with garland. Everyone devoured on the feast and praised Sumitra’s father for the arrangements. The ceremony ended. Sumitra hugged her parents with tears in her eyes as it was time to leave her home and start a new chapter of her life. She was surrendering to the fact that, from that moment, she will be a guest in her childhood home. Tears trickled on her tears as she drove towards her new home.


It had been seven years since. Sumitra and Ashok were married happily. Ashok would travel to the village for the weekends and spent time with his family. He would always bring presents for Sumitra. A few weeks ago, he had bought her a MP3 player and for a month, Sumitra would spend her entire evening listening to songs and missing him. She was happy and content with this new phase of life except for a single thing. God had provided her life with every bit of happiness in the form of a loving husband and family but kept her away from having her own child. Sumitra hadn’t desired for anything as she desired to be a mother. She would often pray her entire afternoons and kept fasting for days to become a mother. She had spent her years trying and failing to conceive. With a bit of hope in their hearts, Ashok and Sumitra had travelled, in the sun and rain, to the city and waited patiently to get a visit with the IVF specialist in the town. Even after three attempts with the IVF and payment of a huge fees to the clinic, the embryo wouldn’t attach itself to Sumitra’s uterus. “Sumitra’s womb is infertile. Our Ashok is a healthy man.” The neighbours would say to Sumitra’s mother in law. She would impatiently wait for the reports of tests but the bad news scratched her hope of being a mother. However, Sumitra couldn’t share the fact with anyone that she wasn’t the reason for her barren womb. “If Ashok had been married to Mishra Ji’s daughter, I would have a boy in my lap by now.” Sumitra’s mother in law would often torment her. Sumitra would bow her head and pace to the kitchen with tears and shame in her eyes. Despite everything, she would get utter pleasure in taking care of her family members.

A year had passed. Sumitra and Ashok had moved to the city and had accepted the fact that they will never be able to bear a child of their own. Though the love that winged their eyes hadn’t changed over the years, a quiet sadness floated in the air. Sumitra would care for her husband and would fulfil her duties towards her family with a smile on her face. Ashok would return from his work and would hug her like they had met after ages. He would often massage her head during the night while she hummed his loved songs to him. They were happy but longed for little palm to hold fingers.

It was Thursday. The clock stroked 11:45 P.M. The clouds had begun to thunder but Ashok hadn’t been home from work yet. Sumitra had been trying to call him for over an hour but was unable to reach him. He would have informed her if he would arrive home late from work. Bad thoughts crawled in her head and she, frantically, dialled his office. A peon informed that Ashok had left the office two hours ago. This peaked her worry.

Ashok had left the office around 6:00 P.M after an exhausting day at work. The city was wet as the clouds had showered the city after the sun had warmed it. He began humming as thud of the clouds added a beat to his songs. With a bag hung on his shoulder and his sleeves fold up to his arms, he was walking from the bus-stand when he heard a child wailing. He looked around the empty street but there wasn’t a soul on the street. As he walked towards the direction of the sound, his steps stopped at a municipality dustbin. He heard the squeal again, louder this time. He raised his heels to peek in. His eyes hooked on to a new born child covered in a pink towel. His eyes locked in with the child’s eyes and he fell in love all over again. Taking support of broken stool, thrown nearby, he leaned in to pick the baby. He peeked around to see if anyone was looking for it. He cleaned the baby’s face with the handkerchief dipped in leftover water in his bottle. He walked up to a tea vendor nearby and bought a glass of warm milk for the baby from the tea vendor to feed the baby. He asked for a spoon, which he cleaned by himself. The thundering had stopped now. So, he decided to sit on the footpath and wait for someone to come in search of the baby. An hour had passed away and nobody had arrived for the baby. The baby had slept in his arms. In a moment, he made a decision to take the baby home.

After few minutes, Sumitra heard a knock on the door. Sumitra ran towards the door expecting Ashok. Questions flooded in as she saw Ashok holding a child in his arms and clothes wrapped in dirt. Ashok walked in and requested Sumitra to close the doors behind. He placed himself on the sofa as he asked for a glass of water. Losing her patience, Sumitra handed him the glass waiting for him to uncover the suspense about the baby and dirty clothes.

As Ashok completed narrating the entire incident, Sumitra’s face lit up. She adored a smile which Ashok had been missing since years. “It’s a baby girl.” She exclaimed with joy as she picked the baby from his arms. She rushed in to the bedroom and Ashok ran behind her. A few minutes later, Sumitra was wiping the baby with a soft towel dipped in lukewarm water. Ashok sat on the left side of the bed and kept staring at the smile on Sumitra’s face as she wrapped the baby in a clean towel. Once in a while, Sumitra would let the baby wrap its palm around her fingers. Sumitra sang a lullaby and the baby drifted off to sleep. Sumitra and Ashok slept on the either side of the bed with the baby in the middle.

The next morning, Sumitra had woken up earlier than usual. Ashok opened his eyes and found Sumitra glaring at the sleeping baby. “Let us keep the baby. Can we?” she said, looking into Ashok’s eyes. Ashok couldn’t find a reasonable reply to her plea. Later in the afternoon, Ashok went off to the nearby hospital in search of the baby’s parents. He wasn’t able to. A sudden thought rose up in his mind. Ashok wanted to be father since long and he thought of the baby as god’s gift for him to become a father.


In the evening, Sumitra and Ashok took the baby to doctor for a check-up. The doctor mentioned “the baby is in full health.” They couldn’t be happier than after hearing it. Later in the evening, Ashok had bought an application of birth certificate and had mentioned them as parents in the form. He mentioned “Sneha Prasad” as the name of the child. Ashok and Sumitra were officially parents to a beautiful girl child.


Both would take turns in taking care of the baby. Sumitra would feed the baby during the day while Ashok would feed the baby and put the baby to sleep while Sumitra cooks food for her husband. They were happy. Their desire had been fulfilled.

Weeks later, they informed both sets of parents about the baby. Joy seemed to have walked into their drawing rooms as they heard this news. Both sets of grandparents jumped with cheers as they saw her crawling on the floor of the drawing room. “Her eyes have a resemblance of Ashok.” Ashok mother announced and everyone agreed.

The entire family had been completed. Pictures of entire family hung up on the drawing room. Tears of joy and sadness wept on the eyes of Sumitra and Ashok as Sneha had to leave for hostel for her MBBS.


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A Promise


Date:  25th March, 2020, Wednesday

Room No. 108
Heaven on stars.

Dear Mummy,
It has been 25 years now. I still remember every word in your last sentence to me. I have learnt to take care of Papa now. It gets very exhausting but I’m still trying to perceive how you used to make it so effortless.

Well, I wanted to talk to you about a promise. Do you remember?

I knew you would forget. You must be busy taking care of grandpa and grandma who must be screaming   for your attention, every now and then.

Wake me up again, Soon
Your Daughter who misses you


Date: 14th March, 2020, Saturday
I was asleep on my bed. I felt someone sitting beside me and a hand caressing my cheeks through my hairs. I smiled. I knew it was you. I woke up in a haste. I looked at you wanting to gaze a little more. “How are you, mummy?” I asked her, with my arms around her and tears in our eyes. “I am fine. How are you, my daughter?” She asked me, wiping my tears with a corner of her saree. We walked towards our balcony and placed ourselves on the chairs, with our faces facing each other. We talked for hours bursting into tears and laughter. We had missed each other.
She was still the same as her picture which papa had on his dressing table. Papa used to tell me a lot about her in our late-night conversations.

My Mother, Smt. Sushila Devi Jain, belonged to a village called Rajaldeshar in Rajasthan and shifted to Siliguri with my father after her marriage. She was the youngest among her three brothers and two sisters. Being the youngest one, her siblings used to toy with her taking turns. Her demands were fulfilled without her crying. Her father held her hand as he took her for an evening stroll to the village market. She would cry as they reached shantanu uncle’s shop, which would smell of sweets and fried snacks. She would get her favoured sweet, for her and her siblings, and rush to home with a hop in her walk. As she turned twelve, her father would find her playing cricket with the boys of the village. She hated long hairs and was stubborn to have short hairs like her friends, of which most of them were boys. Like always, she made her father surrender. She had completed her tenth standard from her village school. She had always been of a fair complexion, average height. Her brisk walking could leave you breathless. She hated working in the kitchen and would wait for her turn to fetch water from the common well where she would play a ball or two with her friends. Her mother tried incessantly to make her into a good house-lady but she was just never meant to stay in kitchen. She loved to practice her hobbies which included everything from gardening to dancing Her parents started looking for references of a suitable match for her when she turned 19.

It was the year 1993. She was married to my father, Mr. Pradeep Jain. My father, who was an average looking man, had a small grocery shop in Nepal, which meant he had to stay away from his family for days to earn a livelihood. Letters and telegrams were the only means of affordable communication as telephones weren’t as cheap as they are now and mobile phones hadn’t become a part of their lives. Every week, the voice of Sanjay uncle, who delivered letters from papa, would make mummy run towards the door. Papa used to write two letters every week, one for mummy and one for the entire family. It was during their early days of marriage when papa would bring her favourite snacks and sweets while returning from work. The glitter in her eyes would take away his exhaustion.

Every morning, one could see her draped in a saree. Her middle hair partition always had a tint of vermillion and her hands dangled with sounds of glass and gold bangles. Grandma could hear her humming prayers in the temple or smell her sitting in her room. She always had an infectious smile on her face. Her laugh could make you laugh. Everyone loved her and laughed with her. The ladies, who stayed nearby, would invite her for whiling away their evenings. On some evening, the neighbours could see her practicing dance on the terrace. Grandpa used to treat her like her own daughter and had always encouraged her to dance. Her masala tea would refresh his evenings which were usually spent talking to his friends in the neighbourhood. Seeing her family delighted and taking care of them made her content.
It was the year 1994, a year after their marriage. I was born. Dipti Jain. I was the first and was going to be the only child to my parents. Relatives hopped on into the trains from different parts of the country to attend my naming-ceremony. I was pampered by every member of the family. Morning massages by grandma, evening walks with grandpa and self-less mother’s care were part of my daily routine. Life was running on the tracks as laid down by my parent. I had stepped onto the platform of school life.

Years, I had turned five. We had no idea that something was going to knock on the door to greet my family which would turn our lives for ever.

It was March of 1999. My mother informed my grandma about a lump, which wasn’t painful, in her right breast. My grandma guessed it to be an ulcer and sent someone to bring medicine for the same. It had been a week. The lump grew in size. We were worried. Father took her to a physician who prescribed a few tests. Reports arrived in the evening. She had BREAST CANCER.

My parents flew to Delhi the next day for her treatment. My responsibility was handed over to my grandparents. She returned home after thirty days. She went through chemotherapy. She was in her second stage. She had changed. Her body felt weak. Her face looked aged. She had lost her hairs but she held on to the hope to get better. She used to smile at anyone who entered her room. My father had faith that she would recover. So, did we.

Weeks passed by. She was recovering. Then… her health started to fall apart.

It was early morning. She had woken up to cold. Father made her tea and put her to sleep. She woke up in the afternoon. Father brought her some food. She sneezed and she felt pain in her left hand. We ran to a nearby doctor who prescribed x-ray. It was a fracture. Her bones were weakening. The cancer had come back. She was admitted to the best hospital in our town. My cousin and father used to stay with her during the nights, alternatively. Nurses would allow grandpa and me to see her for fifteen minutes each day. She used to be on sedatives during all our visits. we would get sad leaving her in the hospital.

She had been admitted to the hospital for two weeks now. One afternoon, I had returned from school and was put to nap by grandma. I was awakened by grandpa few minutes later. He was scrambling. He rushed with me to the hospital. I was in my mother’s room. This time, I noticed a man affixing an oxygen cylinder to my mother. My mother, being half conscious, noticed me in the corner and said “I might not have been a good mother to you but promise me that you will take care of your father and everyone else.” A drop of tear glided on her cheeks. I cried, too. A doctor rushed in and we emptied the room. We reached home and was again being put for nap by my grandma. She was crying too. I wiped her tears but said nothing. An hour ago, cries screamed through my house. I knew what it meant. I didn’t cry. I had promised her.

Years have passed by.  I have learnt to take care of everyone and pretend to smile despite being tired. Like you mummy, I am also learning to keep everyone’s happiness ahead of my own. Your picture in the drawing room still makes me smile and miss you even more 



Date: 30th January, 2020

After three days of shopping and freaking out, the day was finally here. I was getting engaged with the love of my life, Ekta Agarwal. We were happy about being with each other but were going bananas over the number of relatives that were about be guest in the ceremony. Both sets of parents, uncles, aunts, friends and elders were to be part of the ceremony. My aunts had arrived from their houses to be guests at the ceremony.

The sun had come up marking the beginning of the special day. I couldn’t get enough sleep over the butterflies in my stomach. She was going to be mine officially for the rest of our life. I opened my sleep-deprived eyes and reached for my cell-phone. Dialed her number. She didn’t pick. She must have slept late last night preparing her face and body for the ceremony. Yesterday, I had prepared my face with a ‘face clean up’ and returned from the salon.

The house was in complete disarray. All my family members were awake the entire night packing gifts and carrying out chores for the ceremony. I got ready. Had a longer bath than I have on Sundays. I had applied Facewash and every other cream, that was on my mother’s dressing table, that could bring glow in my sleepy face. I clothed myself in blue shirt, black blazer with indigo checks and black trousers which Ekta and Neha (my best friend) had helped me choose. I walked up to my mother to get her opinion on my appearance. “You look nice.” She said. I went in my room, sat on the bed and kept fidgeting with my phone scrolling from on app to another, waiting for all others to get dressed. I was getting nervous and not being able to talk to her did increase its levels.

At 11: 45 A.M, we got a call from the priest “The ceremony is supposed to happened at 1: 10 P.M and after that it won’t be good to continue.” My grandfather informed others and everyone speed up their dressing. I was late so I informed Neha, Sushma and Jini to collect cake on my behalf and they were too sweet to agree for it.

At 12: 10 P.M., my aunt informed me “Ekta has just begun doing her make up and hair and it will take up to an hour to get ready.” I got worried.

My relatives, family and I reached the banquet hall at 12: 25 P.M. At the door, I was greeted by her father and brother in law, who welcomed me in. I touched their feet and moved to a chair in the last row and sat between her brother, Tarun, and Vasu, My oldest friend. The hall was decorated with white and red balloons with chairs placed for guests on either side of the couch (which was for me and Ekta). On the right corner, was the buffet table and on the left corner, was the music system playing instrumental Bollywood songs. I knew Ekta was not present in the hall but my eyes kept searching for her.

Minutes later, she was at the door. My eyes were stuck on her. Her sister on her right and her father was on her left as she walked towards the couch. She was dressed in mint and sapphire coloured lehenga with aqua colour bangles in her arms. Cherry coloured lipstick on her lips made her smile precious. She looked like the moon on a starry cloudy night. I was lost in gazing at her as it sat beside her.

Her Hands.. ❤️

The priest sat on a chair in front of us and set in motion the ceremony which lasted for about 20 minutes. We were made to repeat unpronounceable Sanskrit words and she was doing better at it than me.

The Ceremony taking place..

We were made to wear rose garlands by my aunt and brother.

Soon, we were smiling for picture with our relatives, family and friends. We did receive a lot of gifts, though.  I was tired. My neck ached with the weight of the garland.  Vasu, being the sweet guy that he is, fed me with his hands.

Everyone was busy with their food and we were busy in chit-chatting with each other. We were brought food by our friends and I got busy in feeding Ekta with my hands, which had become a habit during our five-year dating period, ignoring the guests. Soon, the feeding session was interrupted by my family members by signalling towards my grandfather and other elders. We listened to them and began eating with our own hands. We had a bite or two and we weren’t hungry anymore.

Our Smiles..

After few minutes, we bid byes to guests. Ekta and me went to my grandfather and sat beside him. I was feeling a bit shy but she started talking to him. I was happy and amazed to see that.

My Grandparents.. 💞

After an hour, I was lying in my bed talking to her about the ceremony. It was 1: 00 A.M. when we finally slept off.


After the Ceremony..!!

Do comment. Like and share it with your friends and family.. 💞

Tripling By My Grandfather

Have you ever considered taking a road trip with your grandfather and his friends? No! because you know it could be mundane.

Well, my grandfather has been the same man for the last twenty-five years of my life and seventy-five years of his life. He was married to my grandmother at the tender age of 21. In his initial years, he used to run a business of clarified butter (Ghee) under the counsel of his father. Being an elder son to his father, father to his four daughters and two sons and a husband to his warm-hearted wife, he had given due importance to spending money wisely and saving money were above in his list of habits. He possessed and still owns two pairs of white dhoti-kurta which he attires in every day. He believes more in honesty and hard-work than in technology. He has little faith on the white calculator placed on the far end of his desk and has entire surety be on his fingers for calculations. One can see him practising yoga on a carpet beside his bed at the break of dawn. After his morning prayers, he relishes his breakfast served along with his morning tea which includes chapattis and boiled vegetables. His presence commands respect from everyone in the room. He takes part in all the major decisions concerning every member of the family. Everyone believes him to be very wise and always asks for his opinions on crucial matters. I am still not sure whether it is love or respect or both that I feel for him.

It was the noon of 12th of April, 2019. Phone rang. “Dadaji Calling.” It was grandpa on the phone. “Can you drive me to a place?” He asked. “Sure. When? Where?” I said. “Someone had expired a week ago and I have to go there to meet and pay my respects. After half and hour. It will roughly take an hour and half to reach.” He explained everything and enquired about the routes. It had been a month since I had learnt to drive and it was the first time since he was sitting beside me. I called up my brother for a company and some entertainment during the journey. He agreed to tag along. I started the car and was patiently waiting for him with my brother on my left seat. Dadaji came. He said “I have two friends who would be coming with us and they would be uncomfortable if I sit behind” asking my brother to stay back at the office. I was stuck there. Driving gradually as he had apprehensions about driving above 40 km/hr.

After a drive of 15 minutes, he asked me to park the car on the side of the road. I noticed two men, dressed alike to my grandfather, waved at my grandfather. He unlocked the door and moved out to greet them.

The Road Trip had begun.

After a minute or two, one of his friends started the conversation. “How is your health? How is everyone at home?” He asked my grandfather. “Everything is fine except my knees. Everyone is happy at home.” He responded and reciprocated by enquiring about his health and home. They enquired about me too and wanted to grasp as much information they could. They were his friends from his native village in Rajasthan and were meeting after years.

Forty-five minutes had passed. Conversations changed its topics from politics, political parties and politicians to discussion about the person who passed away, from enquiring about another friend in his village to complaining about inflation. Even I was gifted with few advices on how to always be there for your grand-parents by his friends. I was as silent as a ghost just listening to the voices inside and outside the car which was being fused with small bits of laughter at jokes. I would just take part in enquiring them about the malls and cinema halls we crossed. His friends talked about their childhood in their village and the struggles they faced when they moved to Siliguri. I was getting deeply seated and engrossed in their conversations.

After a rough drive on pebbled road for fifteen minutes, we halted at a tea shop. They complained about the condition of the roads to each other and hoped for the current prime minister to make in better.  

After more thirty minutes of discussions on everything, we had reached. I breathed deep. I was relieved.

They went in together. I waited in the car and passed time complaining about the trip to my brother. They came back after fifteen minutes.    

We reached back home at 8:00 P.M. He kept his hand on my shoulder while climbing the stairs. I felt loved and responsible. He was tired but delighted. I was grinning with joy that he was happy. I slept well after writing about it.

Do Like, Share and Comment on how you felt after reading it.. bbie..!!

The One Who Isn’t a Friend Anymore

Date: 24th March, 2019

The One Who Isn’t a Friend Anymore,
Lost A Few Months Ago,

Dear Long-Lost Friend,
Well…I have no clue about how to go about this but of all the people, you should be knowing that I am neither good at making friends, let alone keeping them for years and you, my friend, have always been there for me for the last nine years. Thank You for that.

Do you remember… Those years in school, those lunchboxes, our first bikes…the ride on my bullet straight from show-room to your place, running around the town for a hidden cigarette spot, the deep-midnight conversations after a whiskey on my terrace, those cricket matches during rains, mid-night chai cravings and many other not so mentionable deeds.
It still feels like all of it had happened yesterday.

Months have gone by since we last talked to each other, three to be precise.

My Whatsapp still has your chat pinned to the top with a text “We can’t talk anymore. I hate your dramas everyday…” We did not have any conversations since then. It’s not that I haven’t tried to make amends or tried to talk to you. The glasses of our friendship were spilling with hatred and arrogance, a bit of affection couldn’t fit in. So, we parted ways and you had moved to Jaipur.

You must be wondering the WHY behind this letter. Late Saturday night, I was driving from work to home and a song played on the FM radio which happened to be your favourite song… “Tere Jaisa Yaar Kahaan… Kaha Aesa Yaraana…” and the memories flooded through the gates of the past. I stopped to have a chai and thought about us. The numerous times we had hummed n tripped on that song after our drinking session. That song still resembles an important part of me – YOU.

I agree. People change. Time changes them. The meaning of a friendship changes with time too. Is it still okay to hold on to you and our memories… those precious ones?

I won’t write a cliché but I am always there for you even when I’m not there for you.

Well, I miss you, buddy.

Yours Always,
A Friend of Yours Who Isn’t A Friend Anymore

Does God Exist?


The title in itself might incite many emotions in you. In some, it may bring upon the emotion of a companion which we look up to or to some, it may just be like any other word. To some, it may be a source of power or belief or to some, it may be the solution to all your problems.


The world has fighting since ages to prove the superiority of the God, they believe in. Riots and massacres have been constantly headlined by the news channels since their existence. People have been cut, hung, murdered, smashed, and crushed in the name of religion. But do we really understand the true meaning and relevance of God. Do we really follow the religion the way we are supposed to and do we follow the religion the way it is used by some self-regarding people to hide under its umbrella for their personal gains.


I may not be the right person to tell you how every religion on this planet came into existence or the purpose(s) of each religion. But, in my twenty four years of living and breathing in a religious family and a rat-racing world, I’ve come to understand the relevance of religion in my life. You may agree with what I have written or you may disagree, it is just one man’s opinion.


In India and many parts of the world (may be), Religion is followed by an individual, which is tutored to him by the people that surround him since his birth. Religion is forced upon us, since childhood, by creating a fear in us. Elders use superstitions and myths for creating an image of God into our heads and we follow it blindly without questioning them. We look at the idols and pictures of Gods in the temples, homes, schools and almost everywhere we go to. People have been donating and giving up things such as money, food, gold and silver jewellery and several other belongings to the one who created it and gave it to him. I am not against any religion and I’ll never be.


Every religion teaches us one common virtue i.e., humanity. In our fast and dynamic lives, we have certainly lost the soothing touch of humanity. We often choose not to help someone as we would have to take an extra step or walk an extra mile for him or her. While driving our vehicle, we often do not give way to an ambulance carrying a patient. We hate easily. We fight and lose temper at the drop of a hat. We are pleased by displaying dominance over someone. Our egos are bruised when someone gives their opinion. We yell him or her away when a starving person reaches our doorstep for food. Brothers fight for their parents’ properties. Families get separated at the slightest of argument. Jesus, Allah, Buddha and Lord Rama preached for the brotherly love among humans. We should always try to be there for someone in need. We should be there for helping someone to the extent we can. We should never let anyone go hungry from our doorstep.


FAITH and HOPE – these simple sounding words are the only reasons for which a religion is craved by an individual. Faith refers to the trust that every bad event in our lives happen for a reason. Hope refers to the expectation that every bad event in our lives will be a good event or a good learning experience at its end.  Every human being has the name of God on his lips when he is faced by a problem or a bad situation. No one understands the fact that problems will come no matter which path you choose. Problems will reach you whether you are rich or poor, young or old. The belief in us is what keeps us up to fight for every single day in our life. It is commonly said that belief is like a candle which no one can blow off. Belief is what makes us work hard at our jobs for a better future. Belief is what makes us set an alarm before sleeping at night.

Now, getting back to the title. Does God exist ?

Personally, it exists for me. I look up to him for strength during difficult times. He is my constant companion. I share my sorrows with him. He is the consequence of my actions. He is the one who provides me with enough to live a grateful life. He is the one who taught me to respect my parent and stand up to my words by incarnating as Lord Ram. She is the one who made me believe in the strengths of a woman as Goddess Durga and Kali. He is the one who enlightened me with the path of sacrifice and humanity by being Buddha.


I believe in the fact that my parents are the real life Gods marking their presence in my life. They have provided me enough food to sleep with filled stomach, a roof to sleep under it on a comfortable bed, an education that half the world only dreams of and everything that only few of us can possess. My parents have also taught me the value that a family holds in our life. My parents have prepared me to walk through difficult times without getting defeated and to learn from my mistakes.


So, God does exist. It exists in you, your parents, your driver, the beggar you walked right by on the street, your maid with whom you just misbehaved and in everyone of us. So let’s be human to each other and then be a follower of any religion.