The Secret

This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 56; the fifty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write.

There are no secrets
that time does not reveal
and no wounds
that it can not heal.

His deep blue eyes filled with tears that were ready to explode. His little fingers were tightly curled in the form of fist. His white skin was red with anger. Anybody could say he was trying hard not to cry.

"I am a big boy. I won't cry." With this he suddenly turned back and ran with all his might. He opened the door hastly and searched frantically for someone. He saw a silhouette in the kitchen and ran to it. He hugged the figure clad in saree on her legs and said,

"Momma, they teased me again. They bullied me and said the same things. But I did not cry today. I am a big boy." There was a touch of pride in his voice.

She bent down, hugged him and said with a quivering voice, "Yes my son, you are a big boy now. I am so proud of you."

His eyes gleamed with pride. He felt a little less hurt now.He doted her mother and she doted him back. He smiled, turned back and went into his room. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and wondered how long she will be able to hide the secret from him.

He has been quite independent in comparison to kids of his own age. He was just 7, he bathed on his own, got dressed on his own and even packed his own school bag. When he was ready, he looked at the photo frame on the table that carried the picture of his father. He looked at him sadly. He then took the photo frame, looked at it, looked at himself in the mirror and looked at him again, shrugged, kissed the frame good bye and ran out for his school.

*********

He is now 13 and had now grown up to be a handsome and intelligent young man. Now even he began to notice what the other kids used to tease him about. He doesn't resemble any of his parents. Though he hardly remember his father who had passed away when he was just 5. But from the pictures he knows he doesn't look even an inch like him and he definitely looked very different from his mother. He wanted to ask but never could bring out the question. He loved his mother very much and was afraid he would hurt her. He waited for the right time to know the secret of his looks.

********

He was now employed in a huge firm. He had been told his features are very similar to the owner of the firm. He, till now, hadn't had a chance to meet the ultimate man. His recruitment, trainings and everything else had been handled by his team of professionals. One fine morning when he came to office there was a big buzz. Everyone seemed charged up and busy. Whole office was running around.

"Whats with everyone today." He asked one of his colleagues.

"Boss is paying a visit today."

For some reasons he felt a shiver run down his spine. The man himself was going to be here. he wanted to make a good impression.

He knocked on the door jittery. 

"Come in." A firm authoritative voice said.

When he entered, he stood transfixed, shocked. it seemed like he was looking at an older himself. Apart from the color of eyes and the sharp nose, the person standing in front of him was an exact replica of his, almost.

"Devesh", the man dressed in crisp black business suit said in a tone of question. His voice felt like even he was just out of the shock of their resemblance.

"Yes sir." He said in a trembling tone.

"Come, sit. I have heard a ot about you and I have been wanting to see you for a long time."

Voice betrayed his throat. He could only manage shaking his head. Sensing his discomfort he offered him a glass of water. Devesh moved his head in gesture of no. 

"You remind me of young me. You just have a sharper nose and blue eyes. If I had a son, he would have looked exactly ike you."

"I guess so sir."

"Devesh, tell me about you and your family."

He then began to narrate his life, about his family, his mother, his father. His boss kept questioning him and he kept answering. 

"Sir, if you don't mind, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"You said if I had a son...I presume you don't have a son."

"I don't have a child. I am not married."

Devesh wanted to ask why but was afraid of getting too personal. After all it was his first meeting. Sensing his question he answered himself.

"I am not married. I loved a woman when I was much younger. She married someone else. So, that was the end of the story."

They talked a little more. By the time their conversation ended, they both had become fond of each other. 

After the meeting he was not able to concentrate on anything else. His head was spinning from all the information that his boss loved a woman who married someone else and he looked exactly like his boss's son would have looked. He felt sick with the connection this all was making. His heart wasn't ready to believe but his mind calculated that his mother had an affair and there are chances his boss was his father. 

Days passed, but he had no idea how to breach the subject with his mother. He decided to look for something, anything that could take him a step closer to the truth or give him enough confidence to question his mother. Everyday, when he had the chance he would go through his mother's things, hoping to find a letter or a picture of his biological father, but in vain. Day by day, when all his efforts were failing, he started feeling depressed. His mother tried to talk but he blindsided her with the excuse of workload. He now began to doubt his theory. He started believing that it was a sheer coincidence that he looked more like his boss than his parents.

One day when he was going through the things of his father, just hoping to find peace or a proof that would tell him that he was wrong, he found some papers that looked like medical reports. He quickly rummaged through it. But what he found made his heart skip beats. The report was dated before their parent's marriage and said that the man, his said father, lost his capacity of fathering a child in an accident. 

Devesh kept staring at the report. His heart sank. His worst fears have come true. His mother was coquette after all. She did cheat on her husband and her son along with the entire families of both. His fist closed. He was blinded by his anger. He had no idea what to do. He went out.

When he came home late night, he was drunk, he saw his mother was talking to someone over phone. He couldn't hear anything. He stomped to her, snatched the phone off her hand and said in a rude sarcastic tone'

"Been talking to another boyfriend haan?"

She looked at him in amusement and confusion.

"Devesh, you are drunk?"

"Yes, I am."

"But you never drink. Why, why did you drink? If you have a problem, if something is troubling you you can tell me." She tried to console him lovingly.

He pushed her away.

"You can cheat on your husband. And I can't even drink."

She was thoroughly confused now.

" There has to be a misunderstanding my child..."

"No", He shouted even before she could finish, "I know, your husband wasn't my father." And he threw those papers on his face.

She looked horrified. He walked unsteadily to his room. She went after him to talk but he banged the door on his face. She sat there and sobbed. The ring of the phone startled her. She picked it up.

"Hello."

"I have heard everything. The time has come to reveal the secret." Said the voice from the other end.

**********

Next morning when Devesh woke up, he had the mother of all hangovers. He had never touched alcohol in his entire life but last night that seemed be the only way out to him.As his head cleared, he remembered the incident from last night. He felt both angry and guilty. He opened the door and peeped outside to avoid his mother, who was to be seen nowhere. He went to kitchen to make a strong coffee for himself. It was then he saw someone in the kitchen, his grandmother.

"Grandma." He squealed with delight. He was very close to his grandmother. While his mother was busy mourning and trying to keep things together, it was his grandmother who took care of him. She used to pay them often visits, which reduced gradually. He was glad she was here. he needed someone to talk and bare his troubled soul to. 

She offered him coffee. He was surprised how did she know he came looking for coffee.

"How did you know?" 

"I know a lot of things."

His eyes widened in surprise. She smiled.

"I know what you did last night."

"How.."

"It was me on the phone."

He was even more surprised. he had no idea what to say.

"So, tell me everything from where it started."

He stared at the floor, took some time and began telling the story. Slowly, nervously he talked and his grandmother listened. When he was done she was quite for a while.

"So, you think she has cheated on your father."

"He wasn't my father."

"Biologically, no. But he was your father in every other way."

"So, you knew."

"Yes, How could I have not. He was my son."

"So you know mom cheated on him."

"No, she didn't."

He looked at hr in awe. He wanted to say something but nothing came out. His grandmother sighed and said.

"It's time you I tell you everything. I have known your mother since she was a little girl. I was her mother's best friend. She has always been sincere, honest and loyal kind. It happened when she was just 22. She was a beautiful girl and she was sincere and determined to make a career. She worked hard, going college and she took tuitions to earn some money to help her father. It was a late winter evening. It was long past the time since she was usually home. We were al worried. We tried looking for her everywhere but to no avail. It was past midnight and we were thinking over what to do next when she came home. She held the door and fell down. Her clothes were torn. There were nasty bleeding scars on her flesh. When we tried to pull her up and bring her inside. She jumped away screaming and terrified. It took us three hours to clean her up, apply ointments and take her to bed. The reason why you don't look like your mother and why she never told you about your father was because she herself don't know. She was gang raped that night any of them could have been your father."

He gasped in pain, in realization of what he has done.

"We never filed a report for obvious social reasons. Your mother was more like a corpse for a long time. She never said a word, she never ate or let anyone come near her. She always stared at the blank. One day she vomited furiously and fainted. Doctor confirmed our deepest fear. She was pregnant. With you. When she heard the news, for the first time in weeks we noticed the flash of life in her eyes. Unconsciously she covered her stomach with her hands as if shielding it from the world. She started eating. The pregnancy brought out the life in her. We wanted her to abort. After all it was a rape child. She had a long life ahead of her. With a child born of unwed mother and that too raped, all her chances of getting married was lost. But she fought everyone. She wanted to keep you. You were her child. She was even determined to spend her life in solitary, just to have you. By that time my son had been through a tremendous accident and he lost his ability of fathering a child. To save all the three lives, I decided to get them both married. They both knew about each other and respected the decision. They both swore to keep each other's secret, aong with me. And now, you know it."

A long silence followed. She gave him the time to absorb everything and he pondered over all the facts. it was so much for him.

"But I resemble my boss so much. What about that?" He asked his last doubt.

"Coincidence in the answer my child."

His head was much clearer now. Now that he had all his answers, he had no doubt what he was supposed to do next. With teary eyes and heavy heart he walked towards his mother's room.

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As long as Forever Lasts

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 54; the fifty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

“Happy mother’s day dad”

“Anant, mother’s day is for mothers and I am you father.” He tickled his son playfully.

He giggled.

“For me you are both my mom and my dad. So happy mother’s day.” He said seriously.

His eyes filled with tears, he was touched. He took the handmade card and bouquet of flowers.

At night Anant slide in beside him. He kept his work aside and hugged his son.

“Dad will you tell me that story again?” He said with a sheepish grin.

“Again?” He feigned annoyance.

“Yes dad, again.” They both laughed.

“Ok. Your mom and I were in college together but in different classes. We never met each other. One day in the market,  I was walking on the road and a scooty stopped right in between my legs. The lady’s face was covered with the hanky. Only her eyes were visible. Her big beautiful eyes.”

“That was mom, right?”

“Right. She said sorry and I was so lost in her eyes that I didn’t even move for what seemed like eternity. I didn't even realize she was gone until few minutes later. I kept thinking about her. I had no idea about who she was or where she lived. So, in hope of meeting her again I kept roaming around in the same market day after day but never got to see her again. It was our college fest when I saw her again. I recognized her from her eyes. I could never forget those expressive eyes. I never let her go then. I collected all my strength and complimented her on her performance and hence began our friendship. I knew I was love in with her, I knew she liked me but wasn’t sure if she loved me. But still I decided to propose her before it was too late. I asked her out for dinner. I bought flowers and a ring. I went down on my knees, told her I have always loved her and asked her if she would mind being my wife.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said forever my love, forever.”

“And you got married.” He clapped.

“Yes, and now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Ok dadda, good night.”

“Goodnight son.” He kissed on his forehead, turned off the light and walked out of the room closing the doors behind.

He made himself some coffee and sat on the chair. A hand touched him on shoulders.

“Trisha.”

“Same story again brother?”

He nodded his head.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You know it’s not true.”

“I know but I can’t tell him the truth. This makes him happy and for a time being me too. After all these years of telling the same story, it has started sounding true to my own ears. False may be, but this story gives me hope and happiness.”

“As you think apt brother. I am just worried to see you like this. I am going to sleep. You don’t stay up too late.”

He nodded and bid her goodnight.

He took the picture of his wife and him that was sitting on the table. He lovingly moved fingers on her face. Then kept it back, took his coffee and went to terrace. He sat under the sky thinking of the first time he had met her.

He was in the entirely new city, looking for a job. He had rent a room to stay. His neighborhood was full of kids of all ages. He loved spending time with them in the evening, playing cricket and football with them. There was this one girl who sat quietly on the swing in her verandah and never said anything. She would only watch whatever was going on around her. Once while playing a kid kicked the football near her swing and stopped right under her feet. He went to pick the ball. She pulled up her feet to her chest and buried her face in between her knees scared. He was amused. He waited for a moment. She put her head up just enough to look at him. The way she looked at him, the look in her eyes got him spellbound. She looked at him like she was looking right into his soul. For the first time he felt his heart beating loud. It gave him flutters in his stomach. Never in his life had he felt so alive like he did now. He wanted to stay. He wanted to talk. But the calls from his kid friends made him leave reluctantly.

 Later after asking about her he found out that though she was grown up physically, she was still a child mentally. Everyone kept teasing her always; some would even tease her physically. So she always stayed at home, alone. His heart went out to her. He would deliberately throw balls near her just to look in to her big beautiful eyes. Something in the way she looked at him always pulled him to her. He had often felt the smiles in her eyes when he was around. He just couldn’t resist those soft relaxed look. Just her presence made his evenings livelier. He would go through the day dreaming of her eyes.

His job included travelling, sometimes days sometimes months. He often tried to resist his tours but this time he had to take a tour of a month and half. When he returned he didn’t see her for three days. He began getting restless. He tried to ask casually to the kids. They nonchalantly told him that one day she went somewhere and came back with bruises and her clothes torn. They haven’t seen her since. From his landlady’s gossip he came to know that she went off wandering a day after he went on tour. It is being said that she was raped yet no one knew who did, nobody saw anything. Chances are she might even be pregnant. He even heard that her mental condition wasn’t good.  They keep her locked and are planning to move away.

Something inside him broke. He felt restless and desperate. He knew what he wanted to do. He loved her and it’s about time he should make her his. It wasn’t an easy task. His parents were adamantly against it and rightly so. Her parents were skeptical but agreed. He knew his parents would never give in but he was never surer about anything in life than marrying this girl. And that he did. He took care of her like a child until Anant was born.  Her condition started to worsen. She would jump even at the slightest of sound and would calm only in his arms. It started getting bad to worse. She, now, is in hospital where doctors are hopeless about her. He could never get himself to tell this to his son. The story he keeps telling him not only keeps his son happy but also helps him escape the reality even if for a while. He knows his forever is coming to an end sooner than he want it to. Forevers are never really for-ever.

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Forgiven

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 53; the fifty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

courtesy Google images

Her memories of her father were of him being mostly away. She remembered how her father always made the excuse of being tired whenever she asked him to play with her. Her father gave her everything except his time. She remembers how her father always brought her chocolates. She hated her father and she hated chocolates.

For everyone else around her “growing up was a trap”, but for her “growing up was a relief”- relief that she doesn't have to see her father again. The fact that her every friend adored their father made her angrier. They would tell stories of their happy memories with their father and that would make her realize what she missed or she never had.

On her every birthday she would find a box of chocolates lying on the doorstep, each one different and expensive than before. She knew who keep them there year after year, her father.  Without even a second thought she always threw them away mumbling something about her father trying to lure her with expensive gifts. What she never noticed was that those expensive gifts were only chocolates.

One day her mother called her. She was only too happy to talk to her. Her mother was the only person she was close to. She loved her deeply.

“Hello mom.”

“Kate, how are you.”

“I am fine mom, but you sound distressed. Is everything alright?”

“No Kate. That’s what I have called you for.”

“What happened mom?”

Now even she was worried. The mere thought that something might have happened to her mom scared her to the soul.

“Kate, your father is suffering from cancer. He might not make it for long.”

She was stunned. She had never thought something like this might happen. But after a fraction of second she thought that it must be his father’s ploy to get her talk to him again. He had been trying for so long but nothing worked, so maybe he worked this out. She was in fact sure that this is the case. She was even angrier with her father for being so thoughtless about her mother. She was shaken thinking how her mother have been feeling now. She kept the thoughts to herself and didn't mouth it to her mother.

“Kate, you are there?”

“Yes mom. I am sorry to hear that.”

“I want you to talk to your father at least once. I want you to forgive him baby.”

“I will call him when I have time.”

“Thank you darling. I love you so much.”

“I love you too mom.”

She never called her father.

Days passed, weeks turned in to months. Her mother called her again, begging her to see her father one last time. She couldn't say no.  She reached the hospital where her father was admitted. She was shocked on what she saw. She had always remembered her father tall, strong and handsome.  The man on the bed was way to smaller and weaker. His face was wrinkled and his eyes were sunken. It was the way her mother was caring for the man that made her sure he was her father. His eyes gleamed when he saw her standing at the door. She felt guilty. She saw her father whispering something to her mother’s ear and then everyone left the room. She was alone with the man she hadn't seen and talked with for over a decade, the man she forgot was her father. He signaled her to come near. She obliged.

“Kate”, he whispered, “I was hoping you would come. I have so much to say to you.”  She saw his eyes were wet. “You know the day you were born I was the happiest man in the world. When I held you for the first time in my arms I was born again, as a father. I still remember that beautiful tiny face of yours. You looked at me with those shiny happy eyes and I knew that’s how I want to see your eyes- always gleaming with happiness. I gave you my every second I could. Whenever I was at home I let your mother have you only when you were to be fed. I always held you in my arms. I used to get thrilled each time you wrapped your tiny palm around my finger. We had nothing much but we felt like king and queen because we had you. You have always been my princess.” 

 He looked at her with those sunken teary eyes and something inside her shook.  “It was your third birthday. As usual we got you everything we could. We took you out and your eyes fell on a box of chocolate in the hands of one of your friends. You wanted it. We had no means to get you that box of chocolate or any other chocolate. They came pretty expensive then and I had a limited salary. You cried very hard. You kept crying all day and it killed me. I was ashamed of myself that I could not fulfill your one simple desire. I wondered how I was going to fulfill your other dreams and the dreams we had for you. Until that day I was content with my job and whatever I earned. You mother never complained and she ran the household efficiently with whatever I gave her. But that one box of chocolate made me realize it was not enough. I had to work hard, and I did. " 

Tears ran down her eyes, regret tore her soul apart. “Kate, I loved you then and I love you now. You are a part of me. I did not play with you, yes, but that doesn’t mean I never gave you my time. Before everything I did, every step I took there was only one thing I thought of, YOU. While you slept I sat beside you watching you dream. You would smile sometimes and I would wonder what are you dreaming of. You were always in my heart and on my mind before anything else.  It’s just that I never got to tell you. You are a part of my soul; I thought you would understand once you grow up. But we just grew apart. I am glad you came, else I would have died without letting you know how much I have loved you.”

She cried, hugged her father tight burying her face on his chest. She felt light now that all her hatred was washed away with her father’s love. She felt her father’s arm taking her in and she snuggled close wanting to feel the warmth she had missed in all these years. She felt her father’s arm slugging and slipping away. Her heart stopped. He died. She looked at his quite demeanor.  Her life flashed in front of her eyes. She cried hard. In one moment she found her father and lost him too.

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Reprive

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 52; the fifty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Metro Diaries by "Namrata". To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Dear mom,

I know I should have written this letter long back. I am not sure if reading this will be of any consolation to you but writing this is a huge relief to me.  You always said its better late than never so here I am, unburdening the load to you.


Mom, now that I am a mother I understand your pain only too well. Yes, your little girl is now a mother and that makes you a grandmother. I wish there was a way I could tell you this any other way. Now that I am in your shoes I understand only too well how heart broken I must have left you and how disappointed you must be in me. But I was too young to understand anything. Too much was happening too fast around me. I was confused. I had no idea what to believe and who to trust. I guess that was where I failed. Being your daughter I should have trusted you, I should have kept my faith in you. I should have known, evidence or no evidence, my mother could never harm anyone, let alone kill our father. Everything and everyone around influenced me to the core and so much that I condemn you guilty before the court did.

Mom, I so wish I could turn back time to the moment when you looked at me with those tear filled eyes, hoping I would understand and rudely I turned my back on you. I know it was that very moment you gave up fighting for yourself. Now that I am in your shoes I understand how much it must have hurt you. Now that I am in your place, I know you would never do anything that will hurt your kids. Now that I am a mother too, I know a mother can never be wrong.

For so long you must have suffered more because of me than of the accusation. I was not there when the court sentenced you, but now I wish I should have been there with you. I should have stood by you instead I ran away.

Mom, I don't know if you killed father or it was all circumstantial. I don't know if you are innocent or guilty. All I know is that you are my mother and I love you. I just hope you will be able to forgive me after all you have been through because of me. I hope you do. I will be there to see you soon with your grand-daughter. I love you and always will.

love
your daughter.

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The First Step

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 51; the fifty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with Red Ink Publishers and "Curse Of The Red Soil" by Durgesh Shastri. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

He watched her skin gleam under the moonlight like firefly as she lay half submerged in the water of Mandrem beach. The sand around her glittered like pieces of diamond. Her beauty added to that of the beach was maddening. The provided privacy gave her enough courage to walk around naked with a glory. She had a perfect figure that she had managed with utter devotion. He smiled, for he knew she was fond of placing temptations in his way and she always loved watching him giving away to them. She loved playing games with him where she knew he could not resist her and she pretends to be unaffected. He knew he had to make the move. He slowly walked towards her, resisting the urgent hunger building up inside him. As he came closer a fragrance, typical of her, filled his nostrils igniting his desires to the prime. His heart throbbed, ready to jump out of his chest anytime now, blood gushed in his veins, his breath coming short and fast. He extended his hand to touch the velvet of her skin.

His eyes opened wide, panting, he felt satin under his palm. He seemed bewildered, confused. he sat up with a start and looked around. It took him few minutes to realize he was in his room, on his bed and that was just a dream. He felt thirsty.

"Anu will you.." rest of the sentence died in his throat as he noticed the empty other side. He ran a loving hand over the pillow that used to be her and cursed the day they got divorced. Now that she was gone he was missing her like a mad man. He realized it was she who had made his life the kind he was proud of. But now it was too late.


         **************************************************************

She tossed and turned in her bed. It was 2 in the morning and she was still wide awake. It had been six months and yet she was not yet used to sleeping without him. She misses the smell of his body and his touch. She got up, wrapped her robe around her and went to kitchen to make her some coffee. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep so she thought of finishing her work rather than making a vain try to sleep.

She called his name often, asking for a cup of coffee when she worked late, or expected him come banging in her room and dragging her to sleep. She had been so use to it in the years they have been married. Abhay was the man of her dreams. He was her prince charming in every way. And now, when he was not there to take care of her, she knew how incomplete she is without him.

      *******************************************************************


Ashu and Ananya were married for love. The initial year went like a dream. And then reality happened. They both were working. They both were ambitious. Before they even noticed their priorities changed from each other to their job. Too much pressure instigated them in to argument. Whose job was more important became a permanent reason for their fight. Their ego clashed. And the ones who once held each other hand with a promise to walk together, left each other to chase what the presumed was their dream. What they did not realize then was that they would feel so empty without each other, that it wasn't their individual dream that was important but the dream they saw together mattered the most.

Now both of them are waiting for the other to take the first step for making amends. They both have doubts whether the other want them or not. Its just the matter of taking one step forward but the question is who ?

   *******************************************************************

Assumptions doesn't solve the problem, talking and sorting does. It's your problem so you should take the first step. And it is important to know that one dream that tops your list in the queue of your millions.

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Time Travel

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 49; the forty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

In the dark of the nights on the deserted paths of Raghunathpur, a village in U.P, few men walked hurriedly talking in hushed voices.

"We need to finish the work before dawn," one said.

"Yes, we must hurry or we are dead."

They set out in earnest to finish the task as soon as they can. Urgency was evident on their faces and a bizarre quiet was spread among them. They finished the task an hour before sunrise and stood back to take a look at their work.

"You think her highness will be happy."

"Let's just hope so and pray to God. Let's go."

And they as quietly went away as shadows on the streets.

............xxxx.....................xxxx..........................xxxx................................xxxx.....................xxxx........


As a BMW sedan ran on the dusty streets of Raghunathpur, the lady inside pulled down the glasses of her window. The driver thought it to be very odd, usually the women of her class would never come to a place like this and even if she does he has never seen any one put down the window glasses. Well, not until now. But it wasn't his worry. He knew better than to open his mouth and get killed. The lady on the back seat was dressed expensively and tastefully. She wore a Chanel skirt- top and Gucci high heels. Her cautious eyes were covered with D&G and on her sleek wrist lay proudly the Cartier. Each one of them exclusive to her. On a passing glance she looked like a film star, but one look at her posture, her attitude and the air of arrogance around her and anyone could tell she was more powerful than all of them put together.

"Your Highness, we are there," said the driver without turning his head and in a tone only she could here.

She nodded.

A sigh escaped out her delicate lips, she held her breath as the driver opened the door for her. As she set her first foot down on the land, a shiver ran down her spine. This was her land, a place where she was born but never belonged. Millions of memories gushed in filling her mind with memories. For few minutes she stood there rooted. Images from the past flashed in front of her eyes like a running movie. Nothing much has changed. She could very vividly see herself as a child running around wildly around the street, playing one thing or the others with her friends. She could see the mango tree and on it herself, stealing raw mangoes that she so loved. She could also hear the owner of the tree yelling and cursing her. She could clearly hear her giggles and that of her friends on every mischievous mission they made successful.

Her eyes fell on the lone standing house, her house. She could see herself standing on the door watching her father beat her mother to pulp for some money that he always spent on his drinking. She could still hear her mother's wailing, a sound that had haunted her nights. She could see her mother putting up a brave face for her and pretending nothing happened.  And she very well remembered the day she found her mother dead from her father's beating. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered how everyone stood on the door watching her cry but nobody came to help her.

She blinked her eyes rapidly to avoid tears from running down her cheeks. She had left back the little girl that she was long back when she ran away from her monster father. She had no idea where to go. She just needed to get away. She just traveled as long and as far as she could and then just stopped. She begged, borrowed and stole but it still was a far better life for her. And one day luck shone upon her. A man took her home. He gave her shelter, food, clothes and many things she never thought existed. He told her he was going to adopt her as his daughter. He told her he had been watching her for sometime now. He was in love with how brave she was. She flourished with all the love and affection he showered upon her. She loved how every one feared and respected him. She had seen him angrier than her own father but what she loved about him was he was never angry on her. It was when she was matured enough that she came to know that her father was a very powerful underworld leader. And still she loved him.

Her phone rang jolting her back to reality.

"Have you reached safely princess."

A slow affectionate smile spread on her lips.

"Yes father."

"Come back soon. I already miss you."

"I will. I miss you too."

She walked to the place near the rocks where she alone had buried her beloved mother. Overnight the grave of a poor lady had turned in to the likes of the queen. It was gorgeous, shining in the sunlight like a diamond. Looking at it she felt like Saphira of Eragon, who had the magical powers and with one of them she had turned the grave of Brom in to one as gorgeous as her mother's now, with just one touch.

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The Silence That Whispers

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 47; the forty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

"Look into the others eyes, many frustrations
Read between the lines, no words just vibrations
Don't ignore hidden desires
Pay attention, you're playing with fire

Silence must be heard, noise should be observed
The time has come to learn, that silence...."

Enigma kept telling her silence must be heard, silence must be heard. That got her uncomfortable and she had no idea why. She put the marker in between the pages of The road of lost innocence and closed her eyes. Images flashed in to her mind like a torchlight. 

She saw herself on the airport, a trip to Canada, both work and pleasure. She saw a little girl jumping up and down with excitement of flying for the first time. There was a couple on the way to their honeymoon, engrossed in love. And then their was this woman in black veil on a wheel chair being pushed by a good wealthy looking man. Only her eyes were visible from under the veil. The eyes that spoke pleas, incredibly sad eyes as if pleading for help. Their was something about those eyes that did not feel right, that tugged her heart and that haunted her every now and then.This was all six months ago.

She came back to present with a jolt. Enigma was still screaming to her silence must be heard, silence must be heard. Annoyed, she turned off the player and went in to make some coffee to soothe her mind. It has been long she had not watched television. Putting down her coffee mug on the table, she grabbed the remote surfing between the channels. It has been so long that all the daily soaps felt like alien to her. There wasn't a good movie on as well. She kept surfing and a channel had her attention. They were airing a talk show with the survivors of human trafficking.

My name is Dia, or so I call myself. I don't know my real name. I guess I never had one. Being born a girl in a very poor family is a curse, and that curse wrote my fate. As soon as I was born, I was sold to an old man who posed as my grandfather till I was 12. He never gave me a name. I did all the household work from as long as I remember. He would beat me, tie me up and keep me hungry if I made a mistake or disobey him. I turned 13 and I decided to run away. I have had enough of him, I gathered my courage and my belongings, not that I had anything and I ran away. I have no memory of how and when I reached a church that seemed a good place to hide. I was dead hungry and my clothes were torn off from many places. My lips felt dry and my skin pained from cracks. Sisters of the church took me in and kept me well. I was still afraid of any human contact and for a long time did not get in touch with any except for the sisters. My wounds were starting to heal and I started believing this is my life. I wanted to spend my remaining life praying to Jesus. For a moment there I forgot the curse that was woven in the lines of my fate. And then I fell in love. He was a soldier, decent, good natured, behaved well, looked good and was so much in love with me. Our romance bloomed and I began to trust him after initial inhibition. One day he said that he was being drafted to an undisclosed remote area. He said he can't live without me and begged me to come with him. I loved him too much to say no. After all he was the one giving me all the love I craved for in all those years. I agreed. I took with me everything I had then, my I-card that said my name which was given to me by sisters and other necessary stuffs. I bid my home, the Church, goodbye and went with him with dreams of a better love filled life in my eyes. But my destiny had different plans for me. What came was way away from my thoughts. He kept me in an isolated cottage, tied to the door, naked. He would rape me and beat me whenever he wanted. Sometimes his friends would also join. One day I managed to escape. I had nothing with me, no papers, no I card. I had no idea who to turn to. I was just robbed of my faith again. I begged, stole, did whatever it took to keep me alive. I wasn't ready to give up as yet. One day a woman came to me. She was dressed good. She inquired about me. Till now all my injuries had been inflicted by men. So, it was easy for me to trust this woman. She said she takes care of females like me and asked me if I wanted to live with her. I had no option and moreover it sounded tempting to have a house to live in with good food and clothes. Living with her meant I would not have to beg or steal any more. I agreed. Little did I knew where was my fate leading me. For few months I was well provided with. I had good food to eat, nice clothes to wear and had facilities that I had never seen before. And then one day I was sent with a man. I was scared. I didn't want to go but I had my gratitude to pay to the lady. He took me home, tried to make physical advances to which I denied and then I was raped again. He forced himself on me, time and over again throughout the night. I begged of him to leave me alone, I cried, i screamed and he seemed to love all these. When I went quite he beat me in to crying again. After the dark night passed I was sent back to the lady. I went to see her for I thought she will do something regarding this but all in vain. I saw her collecting payment from the man. It was then I realized she was a pimp. This continued until I was sold to a man, who I heard ran the escort services. There were a few more girls with me, some older, some younger and some of my age. We were told that this is just a dating thing. Everyone was happy to be escaping of this pimp. But I had seen enough to believe. Soon enough my doubts came true. We were kept in a sound proof dungeon. He ordered us around, telling us what to say, what to do, how to dress up. If we deny him anything or didn't follow him, we were beaten black and blue. We called him supremo. The people we were sent to for so called dating were some high profile associates from police, law and politics. All our hopes were lost. I tried to keep fighting it but I knew it was useless. I accepted it as my fate. Later again, I was sold to an old man. He kept me well and he didn't even touch me. Rather he taught me how to use people. He told me how to extract money from them. He taught me how to do the trade I was once a victim to. All that money and power blinded me. I started being the same humans I have hated all my life. I had to do this for I was better off with the old man. I wasn't beaten and abused and I knew once I get the power no one could touch me ever. But the worst part of I knew what I was doing to the other girls. I was inflicting them the same pain I had once been in. The nightmares and the sound of their screams didn't let me sleep. The feeling of guilt and remorse was eating me up alive. I decided to end this for once and for all. I released them and myself. I came to know about an NGO that helps the likes of me. Me together with them are trying hard to fight it off, but it is like fighting the whole system. All I have to say is don't hate the victims. If you really need to hate someone, hate the system and do something about it.

The sound of claps and murmur filled the newsroom. She got up with an air of confidence and pulled her veil down which She had not noticed earlier. As the camera zoomed in to the victim's face her heart stopped beating. Never in her life could she forget those eyes ever. She rued the moment when she failed to read her eyes. If she would have helped her then, the woman on TV could have been saved from numerous more sufferings. Silence must be heard sometimes, silence must be heard.

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Not Without You

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 44; the forty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

A lonely autumn dusk, soft wind gushing through the window ruffling the pages of an open diary

                  

"Ever since he left, my life seems meaningless.

I don't even know why am I alive.

I should have went with him."

      (Dated: 1/11/xx)

Wind flips through some more pages as if trying to solve the puzzle of the text.

"That's it. I can't stand anymore. I am going to him."

                                                                                         (Dated: 2/11/xx)

A sense of  suffering ran throughout the room. Even the wind sounded like it was weeping. Eagerly it went through some more pages.

"It has been so long since he has been gone, but it still feels like not even a second has passed. The pain is still as raw as it has always been. I kept myself locked away from everything. I kept mourning over him every second, in a vain hope that some day I will get over him. But it kept getting worst. I decided to walk out to the world, to try facing it again once more, alone. With a new resolve, to start a new life, I went to do what I loved doing the most- taking a stroll in the park. A few minutes I tried to adjust myself again to the sights of another human. After being alone for so long, I felt like an alien. People who knew me, initially undecided about approaching me, decided to leave me alone finally. Everything made me nostalgic. We had been here a lot many times, holding hands, looking into each others eyes, obviously oblivious to the rest of the world. I ran my palm over the benches, hoping they still have his warmth and touch. Everything was beautiful. A slight touch of winter made it all even more gorgeous. One could clearly smell love in the air. As a chilled breeze greeted me, I wrapped up my shawl a little bit more tightly around me and took a seat on the empty bench. It felt as if he will now wrap his arms around me, the way he used to do a million times. I felt so vulnerable, so naked without the warmth of his arms. At a distance, I spotted a silhouette of a couple, standing arms in arms. The girls whispered something to her lover. He held her up in his arms, sweeping her feet off the ground and she squealed in absolute delight. Her laughter sounded like my own and suddenly in her lover I saw him. My heart skipped a beat thinking he was alive. I laughed at my own folly. Her lover was much younger. Had it been 45 years back, his silhouette would have been quite similar. I decided to walk to the little pond that witnessed our last meeting, to have it witness my last day of mourning his death, the last day of my loneliness. As I peeked, I saw few remains of my silver hair, on my face were the shadows of the past and on my lips the lyrics of the last song he sang to me. I wasn't looking at me, I was looking at a part of him that he left back, in arduous hollow of  pain. I stare at the sky, whispering, my love, I can't do this life, not without you. The sun started to drift off  the horizon, leaving the red of he blood behind. It was time, time to say goodbye to the rest of the world, time for old lovers to meet again, time for lifelong partners to reunite. "

                                                                              

                                                                                                                 (Dated: 3/11/xx)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 11

Credits: Image - Love in the air by Anand

Courtesy - Apple Blossom's Photography via www.blogaton.in

From the eye of a blind

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 42; the forty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "COLOR"

Krushna, the one guy who never failed to amaze me. Though blind by birth, you wouldn't dare to call him visually impaired. He had that kind of abilities. I remember the first time I met him, he was with some of my friends. I wondered what are they doing with a blind guy. He was quite throughout our conversation. We made plans for outing.

"Its going to rain."  He said quietly.

It was a wonderfully sunny day. We laughed at him. He took no offence, remained calm and smiled. But he decided to join us nonetheless. We must have been out for less than an hour, it suddenly got dark. Within minutes it was raining cats and dogs. I was stunned.

"How you did this?"  I whispered to him, quite obviously amazed.

"I can smell colors in everything",  he answered in same whisper, smiling conspiringly.

"Smell colors?"  I was baffled.

"Yes"

"How?"

"This rain, to me sky, water, ice things like.these are blue. Cold is blue. Since I can't see, I smell. I can smell seas and oceans and rain. I can even smell winter and ice." This left me not only flabbergasted but also intrigued.

"Can you smell red?"

"Yes. Red is the colour of heat  and love. So sun, for me, is red. Your blush is red. I can smell blood, which again is red. Not to forget roses and the glances you keep giving to Abhi."

This bowled me over. "How do you know? Nobody knows, not even even Abhi."

"I can't see,  I smell. Remember?"

I blushed.

"I smell red." He said teasingly, and I blushed harder.

"You know what's yellow for me?"

"No, tell me."

"Warmth. Summer, hugs, some handshakes are yellow to me."

I, just then, happened to see a bunch of exquisite white Lilly. "White is such a lovely colour" I exclaimed almost whist-fully.

"I am not sure, its so empty. Isn't white the absence of colors?" He shrugged.

"Yes, but peace is also associated with white,right?"

"Did you ever notice, peace is the absence of war or fear and desire and jealousy and emotions like that. Not the presence of something."

I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what  to say, but I wasn't willing to let the conversation die as yet.

"Don't you sometime wish you could see?"

Shall I tell you what is the most beautiful thing that exist?"

"What?"

"Black,The night, the darkness. Its the presence of every colour. And I possess the most beautiful thing . Why would I wish it to end."

I was rendered speechless.

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Birthday wish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 40; the fortieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "MAKE A WISH"

"Blow the candles and make a wish"


She looked around the room with awestruck eyes. Drenched in the candle light and fragrance of millions of roses, the room looked nothing less than heaven itself. The glass table in front of her was decorated with little red hearts all over and in the center stood a mesmerizing cake with few candles tinkling on it. It seemed nothing short of a dream.

"Cummon baby, blow the candles and make a wish."

"Will you make it come true" she said smiling mischievously in a childlike tone.

"That we will see", he said slapping lightly on her back, smiling.

She giggled.

She bent down blowing the candles and closed her eyes making a wish. Just then she felt a piece of cloth being tied on her eyes.

"What is this now?", she chided.

"Shhh, baby keep cool", he whispered in her ears.

She felt the heat of his palm running down on her arms. His fingers entwined in hers. She felt his warm breath blowing her hair delicately. She took a step back, and then another and then another, and then she felt the coldness of wall on her back. She gasped, felt helpless. Not being able to see whats happening, she had to rely on her senses and more than that on him. His lips touched the side of her neck and she shivered. Her arms moved upwards touching the wall till they touched each other, and she felt another piece of silk being tied around her wrist.

"Honey", she whispered breathlessly in anticipation.

"Am here", he said tracing her skin from jaw to neck with his lips.

Being blindfolded, she was now more aware of his touches, and that only increased her anxiety of what lay ahead. It was when she tried to move her arms that she realized her arms were hooked. She was even more helpless now, and even more turned on. She was on a strange grounds. She wanted to see him, but can't, She wanted to touch him, but can't. Suddenly she heard a slow seductive music being played and followed by an audible rip of her gown. And her gasp that followed was even more audible. She soon forgot everything as his hands touched her shoulders and his lips started devouring her. He swept her off with a kiss like that of a starving man. She wanted to feel his body against her own, but he maintained a distance. He trailed a series of kisses on every inch of her neck, her shoulders , her arms, and everywhere except where she wanted it the most, her soft perked buds.

"Baby please, they are craving for your attention", she breathed heavily, her sound hardly audible.

She moaned aloud as her wish was granted. She felt a gush of heat enveloping her as his warm tongue teased her buds and then ever so teasingly, he took them in between his lips. A current shot down through her spine. She whined. When he was satisfied, he moved down, his tongue leaving a trail of heat everywhere on her skin. Unconsciously her legs parted in anticipation. He got his hint and moved to the center. His tongue eagerly lapping on her wetness. She whimpered, She curved her back to take more of him. He took her with his tongue until she was satisfied. While she was still gathering her breath she felt the warmth of his skin on her own, and his desire on her just satisfied femininity. And she felt a wave of desire consuming her again. He held her back in his palms, raised her to meet him. Her legs tightly wrapped around her waist as he took her. Everything else was lost, time paused, the only thing that existed to her was him, the only thing she felt was him. The moment was consummate, the feeling was consummate, she felt consummate. She felt faint as an enormous orgasm grasped her. Next thing she remembered was lying on top of him, drenched in sweat, breathing heavy, untied.

"You knew my wish", she said gasping for air.

He smiled and hugged her tight.

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The Reincarnation

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 38; the thirty-eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "The Woman on platform number 10."

If good exists, so does evil...
if you believe in God, do believe in devil.

 The dark moonless night.

Wind blowing, creating the sound as of passing through a tunnel.

Leaves rustling.

Owl howling somewhere far off.

He found himself standing at a deserted platform, along with the woman, on platform number 10. It was a weird time and place to be, for a woman, but then, so it was for him as well. The long black hairs of the lady covered most of her face, but he could make out that she was indeed beautiful, very unconventionally so. Her skin was as white and flawless as marble. he wondered if it was as cold as well. Her eyes had a strange glint, strange and scary. He knew he must not stare, but he couldn't help, as if he was spellbound, as if his senses were not in his control. She looked at him and smiled. his heart thudded, fear, anxiety, don't know. She walked up to him. He wanted to move away, but he felt transfixed. She stood very close to him, uncomfortably close, running her long sleek fingers on his face. A chill ran down his spine, as much as from the fact that her skin felt icy against his warm skin, as from fear. she wrapped one arm across his shoulders as if to hug him, and other to the back of his head. she bend her head. She will kiss me, he thought, amused, scared, confused. She slightly bend his head to the side. He felt his goosebumps rising. And suddenly he felt her teeth digging deep into his flesh, drawing blood. an excruciating pain hit him.

He woke up screaming and sweating, holding his neck. He fanatically moved his hands on his neck, searching for the bite, but found none. it took him a moment to realize he was dreaming.

"Damn"

His breath still came labored, his throat hurting from thirst . He gulped down half the chilled bottle and drained the rest over his head. He had been dreaming strange things lately. That perturbed him. After too much of chiding from his only close friend he went to see a psychiatrist. After hearing him out, she said it is not unusual, all these dreams. He actually had been through a lot. He made himself a strong black coffee, lighted a cigarette and stood hanging over the railing in the balcony. He could still hear their last fight echoing all over the house.

I don't want a family, not from you. Never from you.

And that had been the end of everything good he had ever hoped for, ever dreamed of, ever worked for. He still remember how he met his now ex wife over a matrimony site six years back. After initial chitchats they decided to meet. They wanted to be sure of their compatibility before they could get their parents involved. He was late and when he entered the coffee shop where they decided to meet each other, he saw her sitting contently in a corner, oblivious to her surrounding, completely engrossed in a book. He still remember, the title read "the woman on platform number 10". He remembered because the story with the similar title "the woman on platform 8" by Ruskin bond had been his favorite, since high school, and remained so throughout his growing years. Their first meeting went well. It wasn't anything like lightening strike. It took them both time to get comfortable with each other, and by the end they decided on a second meeting. And they kept meeting, whenever possible. And then one fine day he realized he was in love with her. He wasn't the man to hold back his feelings and he was blessed with the same reciprocation. They decided to approach their families. He remember his mother was quite reluctant after meeting her.

She isn't good enough for you son, give it another thought before making a final decision.

It was very strange of his mom to take disliking of anyone in one meet.

I should have listened to her, he sighed. But it was too late to repent now,the damage was done. Love, sometimes acts as blinders, it restricts your view to the person you love. It so conveniently changes your theories of science, where the center of universe no more remains to be the sun, but changes to that one person you love. And so, blaming it all on love, he married her.

She had been awfully quiet and secretive. And always avoided intimacy with him. He thought may be the change is still hard on her. And like a good husband he gave her time and space to settle down. But nothing changed. He remembered his mother cried like a child when he told her he has decided to move away from home, that he has rented a flat in the same city because he felt his dear wife was not feeling comfortable living in the family. His dad never said a word. But still nothing changed, at least not for good. She took a job and he came to know about it from others.

why didn't you tell me?

Is it a compulsion that i tell you everything. its my life after all .

Yeah, true, but still.... what package have they offered you?

Don't even think of it, am not going to let you lay your hands at even a single of my penny.

He staggered backwards as if been hit. "no that's not what i meant. i just wanted to know if the job is worth that much."

Ohh so you think I'm some kind of a stupid or like that...

No, i didn't mean......

And she had stormed out even before he could finish. Later that year he found out that she had sold the solitaire ring he had so lovingly gifted her on their first anniversary, because she needed cash. He was so hurt that she didn't find it fit to ask him, instead she preferred to sell the ring he so fondly gifted. He knew a confrontation was worthless so he kept quiet.

And never once she let him touch her. Initially when he tried, she stiffened, and then she always made an excuse. He thought may be a child, a family of their own would mend a bridge between them. But instead it ended everything he had been desperately trying to make work for past five years- his marriage. He never quite understood what went wrong. He did everything in his power to make their marriage work, but it quite simply didn't, for apparently no reason.

Its been sometime that he is divorced now, but still the memories of the past haunts him. It has closed him down to any new relationship to woman. His psychiatrist says he eventually will come around. He is not sure, but wants to give it a shot. If for nothing then for escaping from all these God forsaken dreams that leaves him longing for sleep.

when you are so burdened with destiny and fate

like a Phoenix, burn, and from your own ash, reincarnate.

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