Further.

FURTHER.

Anjali. Born to an anemic mother. First breath hours after she was born. Doctors called her a special child then. Cerebral palsy it had been. What further? The war that her specialness had forced her to fight against herself.

Entered the clinics clung to her mother's chest,squinting eyes, teeth showing through her partially open mouth, little she looked on her father's shoulder,as she perched looking. She was 5, still special. Fighting, a war uncalled.

Blowing those spit bubbles she looked wide-eyed. As the white coats passed her. She could have been them. But her specialness wouldn't bow down.

Placing her on one of the special mats,her special mats. Her head angled to one side unable to hold it self,her specialness. Limbs refusing to straighten,they had been fighting too.

She laughed,or tried to through her partial mouth as they flexed her elbows,and wailed when stretched. With her mother holding on to a rattle like an army commander for their king.

Day after day,she came and went. Coats changed. People changed. But what further? Is the question she asks her commander. When will the war be put to end.

What will be her further?

KOHL SMUDGED EYES.

Once upon a time... Like it always begins in fairy tales, an adorable princess meeting her prince charming riding a white horse sweeping princess off her feet with a promise of love of ,their happily ever after.

For Ananya it was Arjun in a white skoda,childhood friends, highschool sweethearts. On her door as she dressed in a red attire waited for his gorgeous prince charming to take her away in, their happily ever after. Even less did she knew that it came with an expire date. Yes it did.

What began with cute text messages as friends,extended to late night calls, indiscrminate support, to a helpline 24*7, to the engagement ring he gave her on the very special day of her birthday, which was now bound to their marriage... All of this came with an expire date.And it did begin on the very next day of their wedding. Ananya treated like a priced gift of god once, was now a taken for granted wife. She who was once his elixir of life, was now Mrs. Arjun Singh. An identity that was her only individuality was lost to him. As they say 'its all good in the beginning '. The matters with passing times got worse,as its effect of beginners luck wore off.

For Arjun it was his wives duty to wait after him,to clean after his mess,to be after him in everything he did. She had tried her best,doing what was asked at the tiniest details,but than the date was nearing,the luck ,the love,the bond tested as the time passed. It was hard for ananya ,to keep up with his whims,to lives on his desire,on his code of conduct he had crafted for her. He became peculiar,choosy,moody and she began to fall behind on his wishes,on his protocol for his ideal wife. And with time increased Arjun's insensitivity to his sweetheart Ananya, and Mrs. Singh's faults highlighted even more. Leading to petty arguments turning to fights and daily riots.

It was only during this phase did Ananya realized the weakeing bonds,wearing out love,luck,everything,their happily ever after. And a strong blow to her meagrely holding relationship came when one night during an argument he put his hand on her. Embarking a red mark on her face,with force enough to throw her feeble self in the corner of a room. That night ended there. But other coming nights didn't.Night after night ,as he came from work finding faults with her protocol, he would hit her. Hit her with anything that came his way,utensils,clothing,ropes... And what not. She would fight a fruitless battle against her love,her prince charming who had swept her off her feet,to a happily ever after that was their own to call.

With these atrocities ended their term in paradise, the expire date arrived 5yrs after repeated nights of unhumane 'protocol'. She had finally gathered her strength to leave the house, Mrs. Singh had left,it had left the night he first laid his hand on her. Only her body,her mortal self now,with her material belonging left, Arjun to house which was just plane and bare and ripped off of its identity. He now longed to wipe the tears off her kohl smudged eyes.

SILENCE WAS NEVER THE ANSWER.

The Handsome One

In the pursuit of a research program I happened to visit a private clinic, as my research was supposed to be concerning women going through what I feel to be the most beautiful stage of life.. Pregnancy.I was meant to be meeting a senior gynecologist, so as usual I was asked to be in the waiting area.

The waiting room painted in white was a small cozy room with black seating chairs. In one corner of the room were a couple, a fierce looking man, donning a white kurta, long moustaches and his wife small and fragile,looking more than her age. There was something about him that had shown a red signal about his ways, you know when you look at some person.
In the centre row of the chairs were a couple too.. Male companion being tall, well dressed and the female also belonged to a posher section of the society. I had happened to take a seat behind the *right out of magazine* couple. And heard something I wasn't meant to hear.
"I do not want this",said the wife pleading.

"You have to be doing this, I cannot be doing this and giving up on everything else",the husband said clutching her hand tightly.

"But I want my baby to live",tears rolled down her eyes.

But he wouldn't stop nagging her, finally making her to move in to a room, as the receptionist announced there appointment.

I sat there in that waiting room still waiting, when the other couple came out of the clinical room, with the wife weeping and hailing, I had known all along that this fierce man is really not worth trusting.
Now it was my turn to meet doctor as I was being escorted by the receptionist to his room,in the way i passed the man,who held his wife by her arm and dragged her out of the clinic.
After discussing about all the research, I enquired about the couple I had dreaded the most.
"You see dear", the doctor said,"the couple who had left just now is from a very reputed in a village near by, and the husband is the last heir of there family,in order to continue his race, he has to have a male child to continue the dynasty".

Hearing this I knew what wrong had he done to his wife,but the further parts of conversation changed my perspective.

" This is his second marriage", the doctor said peering at me," hoping for a male child,he married the second time because of the family pressure",he sighed.

" But now again,the history is being repeated,to stop all the members of community to force him int remarriage ,he met with me to get his vasectomy done, so he becomes the one to be blamed, for what they say,is stopping the dynastic heritage".

Hearing this turned all the red signals to green, I mean for whatever it is worth, for he is willing to rebel against the community all he commended was respect from me.
That man donning a white kurta fierce looking, weeping wife, had just become the most -Handsome Man I would ever meet

source: www.pinterest.com

The Door Knob.

It begins with a story of a little girl Mia,5 of age,lost her mother to a terrible car accident. Her only hope, her only hero, her everything in her whole wide little world... Her father. She had faced her mother's death with a courage that made the sorrow cry in the face of death.
She now 6 years old was now someone who was never her. Her chirpy childish self was lost in a gloomy girl who always cried herself to sleep,somebody that nobody could ever imagine of... She was scared of nothing but THE TURNING DOOR KNOB.
It began a month or two after her mother died. She would pretend to be dead by holding her breath, by keeping very very still, the moment she heard the door knob turn, she'd be caught of a fear so unkown so unsecure and so very cruel.
The knob turned and her father entered, he would bring her gifts of sorts. Expensive,plush,newest everything that a child of her age would die to have.. BUT, a big but as it always has cuts the path to everything good.
She didn't want all those gifts she was bought,because her father would make her thank him for everything he did for her. Her hero,her everything in her whole wide little world...
She would not know what it was, but it didn't seem right and it hurt her.. It always had. It always would. As she stared at the ceiling all the time her father was there it made her cut off from the world,her world.
She resesnted it,it had hurt her. Night after night. It had made her hate herself,her hero,her life and moreover That Door Knob which even though how much she wanted not to turn,but it did. The Door Knob Turned.

Source: www.rebelcircus.com

Sometimes...

Sometimes we see the world for what it is not,
We see it black or white,
Sometimes you choose to fall for love,
The other times it falls for you,defeats you,
Sometimes you want for yourself to be on the top of both the worlds,
And sometimes you just see yourself lag,
Sometimes you would want to sacrifice your being to hold your pride high,
Sometimes the sands of deserts Slip like tricky time,
Sometimes you struggle in the race against all odds,
Othertimes you see the feeling of a winner buds,
Sometimes And ONLY sometimes it feels you are lost in this world of black and white,
At other times you choose the rosy glasses that make it all red,
But Everytime we forget that that picture of perfect black and white,
Which with the passing time has blurred its lines,Has blurred its all meanings,
Has now become the world itself..
Which always HAS BEEN..
Which always IS...
Which always WILL BE...
FIFTY SHADES OF GREY.............

The Blue Sweater.....

It was the first day of october, I was wearing the blue sweater the one you loved at a local market? The one with a double knitted hem with holes at the end of the sleeves, that I could poke my thumbs through, when it was cold but i didn't like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflection of stars in the ocean...
You promised me to love me forever that night.....
And Boy did you EVER?
It was the first day of December, I was wearing the blue sweater the one you loved at a local market? The one with a double knitted hem with holes at the end of the sleeves, that I could poke my thumbs through, when it was cold but i didn't like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflection of stars in the ocean...
I told you i was three weeks late..
You said it was fate...
You promised to love me forever that night....
And Boy Did you EVER??
It was the first day of May, I was wearing my blue sweater,although the double stitched hem had now worn out,and the strength of  each thread tested as they were pulled tight against my growing belly. You know the one. one you loved at a local market? The one with a double knitted hem with holes at the end of the sleeves, that I could poke my thumbs through, when it was cold but i didn't like wearing gloves? It was the same sweater you said made my eyes look like reflection of stars in the ocean...
The SAME sweater you RIPPED OFF my body as you shoved me to the floor,
Calling me a whore..
Telling me you didn't love me anymore...
Beat beat pause..
Beat beat pause..
Beat beat pause..
Is the sound of my heartbeat you hear..
Beat beat pause..
Beat beat pause..
Do you hear that sound? Ofcourse you don't..
Its the sound of my silent womb..
BECAUSE YOU RIPPED OFF MY SWEATER..

 

A Tale Of Two

It began as play of two pairs of eyes, gleaming,laughing,joyous,mischievous filled with an energy of youth. With the passage of time,it had become an ectastic dance of love, shyness and something the two couldn't understand,beyond world,beyond this universe in parallel galaxy of dreams they lived together happily. But this was not meant to be their *Happily Ever After*.
The two of them moved apart as the real sadist universe replaced their solitary world,it was the fights of diffrent worlds of the same earth they lived in.. World War-II.
They had dreamt of greying by eachother's side, of the play of eyes to continue till they didn't close. But now he was a war casualty and she left with the children, narrating what was once their A TALE OF TWO.