Guest post: CHALICE by Tarusha Mittal

Tarusha who blogs at is back with another thought-provoking post,’Chalice’ after the brilliant , ‘Sexism’ published here on Friday. You can check it out on this link,

For a detailed profile on Tarusha, do check out on the above link given. Let’s hope straight to Tarusha’s post and I am sure you will engage as she decode the double standards prevalent in our society.



She sat down with her broken pieces and cried.

She realised that it was all over long before it has actually started.

When you play and confer with the devil for so long,it is not long before it comes knocking at your door.


The murder was an accident that brought her immense pleasure and glee.

It was a simple pitch and toss, deemed an accident.

She was free from the clasps of the man who ravaged her every other day.

It is easy to pass it off as an accident when one is adjudged as a drunkard.

Ah, alcohol, as the beaded drops condensed on the shoot-less champagne glass, she seemed in a zone.

She woke up in a daze and got up and started rummaging through her drawers- Need to find a duvet.

Life was easy here. Incarcerated with her consent, she was doing well.

It was disturbing at times but she was finally at peace and safe.

The enactment of that night brought her a sheer rush of adrenaline.

Guilt, drained her at times when she remembered his tender moments but they were always followed by beatings and cuts; She enjoyed the intimacy and this brought out the demon forth from him, for he thought her promiscuous for she enjoyed.

She wanted to be free. She was not free. Finally she was, free in her incarceration, she was free to pursue her love for self.

The night as it happened, was simple. It was the simplest tale in the world.

He came through, she laced his wine with Nitro and Viagra-he was aware of the former.

They made love that night, slowly, languidly-she made no sound, moved not a muscle-lest he starts beating her.

In pain, she tensed up as he increased his bunny hop.

He crumbled right on top of her as he clutched his chest. Right on cue, she screamed.

Cried and called the Emergency number.

Then she started the act-she thrust herself onto him and thrust until content-the noise would at first be thought of the grieving wife and not necrophilia.

The paramedics found no trace of that glass for it had been replaced by a glass that the dear hubby had used at dinner.

She was questioned and let off.

Within a week, the jig was up for Nitro was found in his cadaver.

She confessed, before the glass shards were found in the trash, because she was unable to live without his love.


She was at peace here. But he was not here.

She felt pain in her veins as she injected herself with a drug cocktail. A prickling feeling raced through her body.

Then the excruciating pain started, she screamed but stopped and had a seizure.

She was found in a pool of her vomit after having drowned in it.

Revenge, revenge, thou art a lesson-Like the poisoned chalice, revenge had come back to haunt her.

Teaser Tuesdays: Turned On by Lucy Dent

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!


Over to me! After ages, I am back to the weekly bookish memes. I am reading, ‘Turned On’ by Lucy Dent (The author prefer to keeps it anonymous. It is a tale of  a married woman, harmless flirtation with online sex and virtual affairs which nearly destroyed her life. Lucy lays bare the loneliness and sexual discord that took hold within her marriage. A gripping narration coupled with searing honesty telling about the inevitable pain and destruction. The writer has a strong command with narrative and language that makes it a compelling read that hooks the reader not just to the subject but the quality inherent in telling a good story.

My Teasers/ Turned On by Lucy Dent

A picture couldn’t hurt, and wouldn’t put the veil of anonymity away too much- page 140

Pretty soon we fell into some uncomplicated, unimaginative but effective, phone sex.-page 201



Human agony, bloodshed and cost of lives

This poem is weaved to disturb you as we stand mute spectators, watching the genocide and atrocity committed against the Palestinians and people of Gaza. This humble post is dedicated to the loss of innocent lives, men and women in Gaza, in the name of politics. I am deeply grieved at the demoniac act committed against humans, including, small children, babies and pregnant women whose lives are torn by ruthless rulers. Let’s join hands and pray for humanity-cum-innocent people.


Cries of desolation as humanity bears the atrocity of an evil world;

O’ evil man! You have no shame of your heinous and sadistic act?

Have you got no heart?

Blood shed,  scattering of corpses, shrieks of babies and killing of lives in the embryo;

Innocent men and women  bearing the brunt of ruthless war mongers and politicians;

A horrible sight for us to witness as an entire populace is massacred in the name of dirty politics;

O! ruler! How can you sleep so peacefully when you carry the burden of innocent lives and children witnessing the gun shots of parents?

The tragedy of small innocent children not playing with toys but seeing bloods scattered all over and weapons destroying civilization;

O! Big powers why are you so silent?

Feeling guilt pangs for destroying the world or being plain hypocrites so that you can rule a divided world!

A world that sees no difference between blood and colored water, where babies are mercilessly abandoned to death in their cradle in a world ruled by demons;

O! monsters in the garb of humans, stop this madness for you shall meet the same fate, your day of judgement is not far way.

Gruesome images playing live in world where bombs are exploding at the whims and fancies of one vile and mad man.

Is the price of human life so cheap?

Bleeding, shivering and hordes of human masses torn apart as they stand helpless and gaping for breath;

The death of civilization that will take ages to restore and wounds that will perhaps never heal;

Bodies, limbs and arms shred apart as souls are suffering excruciating pain;

A human agony at the sight of war-machines and sick drones striking;

One doesn’t need to belong to a particular religion to condemn the human onslaught,

only the heartless can sit unmoved by the tears and cries shed.

O’ World! What have you become?

Biggest power in the world! Are you still hunting terrorists?


Deeply aggrieved at the lost and heartless souls.

Spread love, not war and hatred


Final and last chapter (8): Love, Break up and Coffee

Hi folks,

My apologies! I know you’ve waited long enough for last and final chapter of the mini rom-com novella, ‘Love, Coffee and Dating.’ and must be fuming. I am aware that after reading the first seven chapters and taking long to write the last one can kill the interest cum losing the grip as well as freshness in your mind. I am really sorry since I’ve been stuck with the Ultimate Blog Challenge July 2014 where I am blogging for 31 days and I took the new job. It can be taxing, trust me. Here, coming with the conclusion for the novella and hope you’ll like it. As usual, looking for honest and critical feedback.


Love, Break Up and Coffee

Chapter 8:

Band, Bajaa and Bandook (Marriage at Gun point)

I have one week to win over Anumrita’s heart and steal her right under the nose of Mr Money Bags. I stopped attending film shoots and staying in the apartment, listening to mushy romantic songs, turning into modern day Devdas, gulping bottles of Whisky. My life is in a mess and growing a beard, unkempt hair making me look horrible. In my desperation, I visited prostitutes and I was almost roughed up black-and-blue by the pimps and one of the prostitutes called me, ‘Napunsak’ (Impotent). One women wearing big pouts and huge bindi, called me , ‘Bharwe.’ I didn’t visit the brother to have sex but to narrate my sob story about love, break-up and Anumrita ditching me for a filthy rich asshole.

It’s the eve of Anumrita wedding to Mr Big Shot aka Money Bag. I make several frantic calls to Anumrita throughout the day and I am feeling terrible and boiling with anger since Madam is either not replying to my calls or messages and cutting  me off. How ruthless! Finally, she responds to the 106 calls, 86 messages past midnight. “Listen, my sangeet is going on and managed to sneak in to call you back, by standing on the balcony. Are you aware that I am getting married tomorrow?,” She shouted.

I was almost on the verge of tears and ask, “Why do you need to get married to this asshole kinda Mr Money Bags.”

“Sam!! Shut up, yaar. Please understand that I am tying the knot, yaar. Go and get a life for fuck sake. Please don’t do anything stupid and I am sure you’ll get someone better. I don’t deserve you.

How I hate it! When girls turn into characters baked by Ekta Kapoor…I don’t deserve’ll find someone better. How I wish Tania was with me but she told me, she is on a mission to save my love and I gotta thank her with a smooch. My head is exploding with alcohol gulped inside and feel I am in a tailspin.

“Anumrita, I l-o-v-e y-o-u, one last time, let’s meet, please, please?”, I plead before breaking down.

“Are you drunk, Sam?” She ask. “Ok! Fine! One last time,” She said, showing sign of irritation.


Anumrita retreated to her room and walk past the horde of loud guests dancing, singing and indulging in free flow of alcohol. She needs a rest and slouches on the sofa and after a while, overheard a loud noise which seems like an explosion and passionate arguments, her Mom and Dad shouting at the groom’s father. She jump out of the bed in her red saree and jewellery when Tania’s pal Karan, stood in front of her, forcefully pressed a white handkerchief on her mouth. She felt dizzy and passed out.

I was waiting outside Anumrita house, waiting for Tania, who run out of the house, brandishing a revolver at my temple. “What the fuck?”, I am horrified. She pushes me inside the Black SUV and ordered the driver to speed up. I ask, “Are you mad?” She gives me a scary look, “Listen hero, keep your fucking mouth shut and one word, I’ll blow your head. Shocked? The thing is that I was playing a game. I hate this bitch Anumrita and I am in love with you. We are going to get married. You get that! Karan has killed Anumrita and she will never come between us.” I am shaking with fear and mutter, “She was your best friend.” Tania expresses an evil grin, “She is a bitch and took you away from me.

The car whooshes its way in the outskirt of Mumbai and after braving the mad traffic for an hour, made way in front of a deserted Bungalow, cut off from city life. I mean, even if they plan to kill, no one will hear my cry and will be dumped somewhere near the lake. Karan, dressed in Black suit, opens the car’ door and pushes me inside the house. Both ordered, “Now, go inside the room.” I got the shock of my life when I saw Anumrita, half-conscious and I reaches for her hand as she tries to stand on her feet. She slowly opens her eyes, “Are you part of the conspiracy? I am confusion and ask, “Conspiracy. What conspiracy? Tania forcefully abducted me at gun point, telling she wants to marry me and Karan killed you. Both of us were bemused, before realizing that Tania and Karan abducted both of us.

We walk past the door to see Karan and Tania smiling. I meekly ask, “You abducted Anumrita from her marriage to bring her here?” Tania smiles, “Abe! Hero! She is my best friend and you think I am stupid to let her marry Mr money bag when she is in love with you. Don’t be confused. Karan is my boy friend and we worked on a plan to unite both of you.”

Tania winks at Anumrita, the abducted bride who is still recovering from the shock, who in turn directs her gaze at me, “Now, you tell me, why should I marry you?”

I bend on my knees and hold her hand in mine, couldn’t stop looking at the beautiful bride, adorned by gold and red saree. “Anumrita,” I say, closing my eyes. “Since I discovered life, it was you and only you in my life. You are my oxygen that let me breath free and we are like Whisky and Soda. You are my liquor and I am your Soda. I cannot live without you and stop fiddling with my heart that you took long time back. You’ve taken my soul away and how can the body stay apart? I love you, Anumrita and say yes…please yaar, jaldi kar, my knee is hurting.”

Anumrita looks at Tania and ask, “Should I say yes? I love you, too.” We hug each other and Tania comes close to insist for a smooch. We, me and Karan, couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw Anumrita and Tania, smooching passionately. The boy friends separated the girls with their might by shouting, , “Hell! Are you girls planning to become lesbians or what?”

Anumrita coolly says, ‘That’s Sam promise to Tania and, unfortunately, my man is taken and so I am doing the obvious. Tania shouted, “Where is the (officiating priest) Pandit?” Anumrita and I look around when both of us are taken to a decorated room and made to sit in the Mandap where a tiny fellow, the Pandit, performs the marriage rites as we exchange vows and putting garlands into each other’s  neck.

Tania and Karan hugs us and offered a surprise gift, two air tickets to Miami with free hotel stay for a month. Tania said, “You gotta take the flight in four hours and so get ready, we are going to the airport.

As Karan was driving us to Mumbai airport, Anumrita asks Tania, “What about Mr Money Bags and my parents.” Tania smiles, “Don’t worry, Baba. I broke your marriage and now I am sure your parents would not want to see the face of your best friend ever again. We’ve set Mr Money Bags, making him drink  full bottle of Johnny Walker whisky and when Karan escorted him on the bed, I forcefully jump on him, removed my bra, to give the impression we were banging. My boy friend raised a ruckus and your Mom and Dad entered the room to see us in the condition you must be guessing. Poor Mr Money Bags protested vehemently that he is being trapped but your parents only saw the truth concocted by Karan and me. Babe! Just enjoy your honeymoon.”

Anumrita and I hug Tania, calling her, ‘bitch.’ The bitch is proud, “That I am.” Both Tania and Karan waves good bye to us as we walk past the departure zone.  The plane slowly zooms its way at the airport and whooshes in the deep blue sky. We kissed like a happily married couple coz we know that we shall come back after two years to take blessing from our parents, letting their anger to subside.

With Love



WoW! The mind reader

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. Write Over the Weekend inspiration for this time:

What if you are blessed with a power to read others’ minds? Whose mind will you read and why? What will you hear it say?


How I wish I could land up with the super power of reading minds? Hell! I’m not into Black Magic or joining the brigade of self-claimed Gurus fleecing the Aam Aadmi and Khaas Aurat money, pretending to read minds of lovers, predicting India’s win in cricket or whether the next Amitabh Bachchan movie will be a smash hit at the Box office or whether their foes are plotting conspiracies to bring down their empire.

It’s my sixth sense in the imaginative, they tell me. False pretense? I ain’t no Harry Potter or Super man but belongs to the plain breed of Mango People.  Oh! My super mind and lemme pretend of having the sixth sense to know about things that goes around. I shall read the minds of politicians and war mongers and craft a strategy to play with their minds to give a taste of their own medicine. I shall give them false leads, throwing pot of gold at them as they will be tempted by the greed to have more. It’s a trap you see as they will be drawn to Maya Jaal that will lead them to the desert, never to come back to trouble people and make life hell. I shall punish those who wage wars, killing innocent children, babies, men and women. The rapists and perpetrators of crime against women shall find their minds caught in a maelstrom, making them lose their inner peace and losing peace, dying every second, asking for liberation yet shall never attain it in their life.

The manipulators and conspirators, wait I am coming to get you full swing. I shall stand on your way when you play mind games and indulge in office politics. You shall never get an easy way the moment I read your mind and prevent havoc wrecked on the world and shall stand on your way, destroying each and every plan of yours. I will make you bite the dust and eat your own words. I will concoct a magic potion a la Harry Potter, making you spell your vile plans to the world. It will be called the day of judgement when you will stand helpless as the world will witness your true colors.

O’ my lover where are you! The sweet girl I’ve been pursuing relentlessly and who makes me go weak on my knees every time she pops up in front of me. I shall never worry of winning your heart coz your mind will tell me if you are interested , thus, saving me the effort  of running after you. I will not be the victim of the mad pursuit and spend my time, worrying when is the proper time to ask you out for a coffee and movie date. O’ Girl! You are mine, will be my mantra.

I shall be the most powerful man on earth, spreading my magic all over the place. Ahem! Ahem! I will read the mind of Blog Adda and will not wait till Tuesday to know if I bagged my 12th consecutive WoW. I will be an instant winner after I hit the push button:)

With Love


Powerful KBC Kohima Ad, pricking the conscience

The Kaun Banega Crorepati Kohima ad made my eyes moist and couldn’t help the tears rolling down the cheek as I watched the hard-hitting and thought-provoking message. India is one country and, unfortunately, the divide is so visible when it comes to North East States such as Assam, AP, Manipur, Meghalaya and Nagaland as well as Kashmir. What a shame when we nurture prejudice against our country folks, discarding them as Chinese and it’s worse when we call them Chinki. In the recent past, North East students have been beaten up, humiliated and killed owing to their facial features. It’s shameful. The KBC ad couldn’t have come at a better time and what peeved me off when 209 fucktards and bloody morons disliked this inspiring video on You Tube and worse, people indulged in names calling, making it the  great North-South divide. It’s such a put off.

The words echoes through my soul when the KBC contestant told the host Amitabh Bachchan, “Haan Sir, Jaante Sab Hai par Mante Kitne’ (Everyone knows but how many accept we are Indians). This will prick not only your skin but your conscience on the discrimination faced by Indians, often telling them to go away to their home town. I still feel a chill down the spine and Amitabh Bachchan concluded with subdued but powerful words, “Yahan Sirf Paise Nahin, Dil Bhi Jitna Jaante Hai (Not just money, but win hearts).

A big thumbs up to the creative team of Sony, Kaun Banega Crorepati and the host, Mr Amitabh Bachchan for coming up with this superb video. Hope many TV channels, reality shows and soap operas will follow suit with such hard-hitting and powerful videos. Reflect people! What we need is a powerful India united its people and a patriotism doesn’t mean driving your people away. There is no point waving the national flag on I-Day together and excluding the people during the rest of the year.

With Love


Guest post: Sexism by Tarusha Mittal

Today, I present to you a dear blogger friend, Tarusha Mittal, who is kind enough to grace my space as a guest blogger. Tarusha is no stranger to the world of writing for heading a youth magazine at the young age of 18 which is, indeed, a big achievement. I met her on the blogosphere and we soon became friends on Facebook but hit off quite recently for the sheer love of writing. A feisty lady, she has lots of dreams and aspirations. Hold your breath! This is not her first guest post on my blog and she will come again on Monday. She speaks on a thorny subjects, ‘Sexism’ and the hypocrisy of our society. Hence, I call upon all of you to actively participate in the hard-hitting debate. Way to go, Tarusha!

Kindly drop in a Hi on

Who is Tarusha Mittal?

Hailing from the city of Nawabs in Lucknow, Tarusha is Chief Operation Officer at Koonk Technologies Private Limited. She is an alumni of La Martiniere Girls School and was active in writing, dramatics and debates during college days. She started a Lifestyle magazine Mish Mash, holds an LLB and wrote for renowned publications such as Youth Ki Awaaz, Armaan Foundation and Green Peace. In her own words, “I am a writer before anything else and am moving forth with panache in the IT world. My strengths and passion are nearly the same thing-Words and Technology. I was always a good student in school and was an office bearer,the typical nerd-love reading,writing,editing and just managing things in general. I was the school magazine Editor for 2 years-this love translated into my fascination for Publishing. I can work behind the scenes as well as on stage,but I believe in working smart and not hard. There is no point in slogging out if there is no pragmatism attached to the entire exercise.

Sexism by Tarusha Mittal

This is going to be a short piece about sexism.

How ingrained it is in us.How we are brought up along side it but we rarely reflect unless we are forced look in that direction.

This is not going to be a bra burning piece,just for the record,I am all for it,for the fun of pyrotechnics but I respect those who choose to do that as a form of protest.

The problem is that patriarchy and sexism are so inherent in our “great” country that people have forgotten that being ogled at -or the attitude of boys will be boys, that is how the society is, behave this way because you are a girl- is beyond abysmal.

Women do not understand that we are not objects to be ogled at,we are not meant to be toys or a piece of property, we are as much an individual as the next dude with different and “super” set of genitals.

There is something known as equality and we have completely lost sense of it. Boys flashing their dirty underwear label is a “dude” but a girl’s accidental or even if it is deliberate  like the former is tagged as slutty.

Boys can step outside at odd hours and if they misbehave,they are being boys but heaven forbid if a girl steps out late at night-she is asking for it.

We need a change,this is not about being a rebel sans a cause. It is just about bringing children up better with better ideals-they need to learn to recognise sexism when it happens.

People just do not understand. We are crass and uneducated by any and all standards-for we do not understand simple concepts like patriarchy, sexism and inequality between genders.

It is is not always in your face,sons are better than daughters but it is sinister and insidious it is an attitude that is drilled into girls while they are being raised. It might not necessarily say that you are lesser than the boys but learning the feeling of being ashamed. Shamed for being a girl,shamed for
having certain boy parts, shamed for doing certain things, just plain shame.

People need to be taught-men and women-that there is something known as equality of genders and most importantly, there is a need to make people learn that their “culture” or “norms” are not to be imposed on everyone. Their yardstick of judgement should stick to themselves and no one else.
Also girls are individuals,they have nothing to do with family’s honour,the honour belongs to the girl and no one else. Women are individuals and not properties.

Getting goose bumps, not very Phunny Phunny!

What’s the fish!!! I ain’t in the sea, throwing the bait to catch the fish..ahem! ahem! A post is being scripted out of sheer boredom and me trying to me phunny when I am feeling lame for being lame cum inactive. Kick the blues! It’s Friday, I know!! You don’t need to tell me.

Time is passing me rather than the other way round. Hope, M still making sense, at least, pretending to….party online, party online, party on the blog! Now, pleaze somebody tell me why I am sounding like Yoyo!! haha! Honey Singh. Makes me wonder whether there is any pill to kill stupidity or lame jokes that makes the round from time-to-time. Howz bout killing idiots on social media? Just for a thought. Now, wait!!! The ones who craps all kinda gibberish talks like forking out Hakka Noodles to get noticed..a simple case of suffering from attention syndrome!!!!

Now, I am really scared for myself and state of mind. Am I verging towards the syndrome of amnesia? I am shit scared for the rest of my days on planet earth. Hua aisa ke I normally pre-schedule my UBC Posts on word pad and thought ki I have saved it somewhere on my mail and time, before leaving office, I’ll just do a quick edit and post in a jiffy. I just realized that the post is saved on lap top at home. Oh! Lord! Somebody please kill me, seriously. What made me think that I’ve mailed self the document-something I really do. Now, wringing a battle with self.

Seriously, I mean how I end up achieving such things, defying law of gravity! May be, I am genius that will put Newton to shame. Creative! Creative! My Creative self! Where art thou! I am gunning for bone tickling and kick ass moments, which has abandoned my grey cell to do hawan and jelly dance somewhere. Oye! Teri! Dimaag ki baati jalao coz this post is not very very funny at all. Am I burned out? I mean, already!! Getting goose bumps.




An enthralling monsoon, perfect life

Droplets of rain exude magic feeling as street kids display a twinge of mischief jumping in water puddles and performing somersaults;

It’s the new season of ecstatic joy and magic;

Couples stealing a moment of intimacy, cuddling and kissing passionatelyas they sit on the rocks, crescent waves hitting the shore;

Farmers invoking the God for the monsoon to reach in full swing to create a ripple of  harvest bringing harbinger of hope, wealth and quenching hunger-cum-thirst. 

A romantic evening spent sitting ay the beach, getting soaked and drenched in rain as colorful umbrellas embellish the city;

Cabs whoosh past the busy streets clobbered by heavy rains, office goers swirling home, trains running late and commuters getting stranded.

We love the monsoon adventure despite the tribulations of getting stuck in the rain and our constant whining about the state of our roads;

The imperfection of a perfect life which makes the monsoon season an enthralling affair.

Enjoy and lotsa love



Wordless Wednesday #43: Never lose kindle of hope

Wordless Wednesday #43

“Life is an everyday struggle and we tread on our path, no matter how much the going gets tough.  One should never abandon hope since there is always light at the end of the tunnel.”–self

This picture was clicked during my last visit to my favorite city on earth, Mumbai, during December 2011.

I am linking the picture to the wonderful blog of Ruchira Khanna ( for Wordless Wednesday #43.194