Ordinary women, extraordinary feat

Color splashed.

Brevity is an understatement.

Winning hearts.

Capturing minds.

Celebrating an identity.

Women of substance.

Men of valor.

Ordinary mortals.

Trudging the path of fire.

Quenching thirst of success.

Unlimited Hunger.

Champion doesn’t win every battle.

Some are lost at the finishing line.

Undying spirit makes men and women.

Battling prejudices.

Nepotism dying a silent death.

Our athletes.

Pride of a nation.

Fighting against all odds.

Ordinary women.

Dark horses.

Winning is not everything.

Triumphant spirit is.

Daughters are not second class citizens.

Proved on the battlefield.

Refused to play second fiddle.

Not born from the limbs of men.

Walking with the head high.

Stop treating your daughters with scorn.

Born to rule the world.

Worth gold.

The poem is a tribute to our athletes, P V Sindhu, Sakshi Malik, Lalita Babbar and Dipa Karmakar who fought against all odds and made India proud. It’s time to stop treated our women as inferior and decide their fate by marrying them off or make them cook food. Prophecies of doom, time to chuck off your myopic view on the real place of women. Their places are high on the pedestal.







Excerpt from unpublished draft: In the name of love

Hey folks,

Sharing with you an excerpt from the unpublished manuscript which I am writing since four years. Maybe sharing the excerpt will help me revive the book that I haven’t touched for ages and yes, the first draft is lying unattended in a corner.  Do read the excerpt and tell me what do you think:

In the name of love

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever spoken in life. Can love turn a saint, a man who loved Zoya like anything,  into a devil overnight? Her silence was killing me. I turned into an obsessive lover. My life was going to change in the next few days, months and years. I was denying it. She was making me jealous when she went for chai with the dude we met at the tapdi last time. I will not let it happen. I am obsessed with Zoya. I am plotting to kill that guy but I have the sweetest revenge in mind. It doesn’t matter that I become a sinner. I am in love with her.

It’s not a question of being right or wrong, saint or devil. It’s a question of love.  We met the last time and hugged each other tightly. The tension was palpable. I was getting jealous when Zoya told me that her parents were planning to hitch her with an NRI in US. We were holding hands. I abruptly separated our palms and started walking. She fumed, “Ouch! What the fuck? You’ve hurt me?” I apologized.  Her face expressed hurt and angst. We walked in silence. Both us knew why.

There was no communication between us for days till we decided to meet at Barista in Colaba and ordered two Cappuccino. I couldn’t face her. She asked, “What’s wrong? Still angry?”. The smile lit her face like the crescent moon. I faked an anger, “Is our relationship hurting you, Zoya?” The cheerfulness disappeared from her face. “What do you mean?” she asked. “You’ve lied to me,” I said. “The last time you went for tea with my friend behind my back and never bothered to say that you went along with him. I think he likes you. He told that he wants to sleep with you and that you told him that I am just an option in your life and not a priority.” Zoya was on the verge of tears. Her face seethed with anger.

“Tell that stupid friend of yours to stop lying. You better stop hanging with such despo. I thought that he is a good and decent guy,” she said. Zoya’s mood was spoilt. I am the culprit. Yes, I lied to her. She picked her brown bag, “I am going back home now. Yes! Tell this guy not to ever appear in front of me or else, I will turn spew venom at him and all those cuss words he couldn’t even imagine in his wildest dreams.”

Zoya walked away from me, trying to control her tears. I was lying on the bed when the phone beeped, “I will always love you, no matter where we are. It’s up to you whether you trust me or not.” I felt guilty that night. I have lied about an innocent guy who never harmed me and made the most beautiful girl who loved me cry. Do I deserve Zoya’s love? I ain’t sure about it. Why the fuck did I lie to her? This jealousy is killing me. I promised never to let anything hurt her. But, I did. What kind of love is that?

With Love



Sex with an ex (5)

Read previous episode here.

Sex with an ex (5):

It’s painful. Anita’s eyes became red and burnt like spewed fire. Her silence gnawed her soul every second. She cannot stop it and wanted to yell, ‘No, Enough. It’s tearing me out. I cannot take it anymore. My soul is ripped every nanosecond. Everything became black. She writhed in pain.

After all, how long can she lie to herself? Anita felt impure to cheat on her fiancé. He doesn’t deserve it. Ajay ran his fingers on her neck and caressed her belly, pressed his finger on her stiff boob and back. He licked her flat stomach.

She lay on the bed, gave her soul and body to the potent force that pressed her lip in a flurry of electrified passion. Blood oozed. Ajay ran out of breath, “I need you….” She yelped and moaned. He bit her ear. He undid his zip, lay on her curvy, naked body and entered her with full force. He thought, “It never felt so good.” He ejaculated inside.

It’s was the first time that Anita felt suffocated and rushed to the washroom, bent on her knees and threw up in the English toilet vase. Her body stiffened. She sat on the marble floor and cried her lungs out, howled in pain. She breathed heavily. How she wish she could kill herself!

Anita has lost control over her own self and couldn’t bear to hear her own screeched voice that horrified her. She wanted to run away from herself.  She was battered and needed to recollect herself, torn into pieces. She couldn’t blame Ajay. She has been a party to the clandestine meeting, routine sex and dragged herself in the muck. Anita fainted inside the washroom.

“I don’t understand one thing with you. You are unhappy with the sex you have with him and why the fuck you are still doing it. Have you seen your face in the mirror? What are you doing to yourself? ” Rohini blasted her.

“I don’t know what I am doing to myself. The more I try to distance myself from him, I am drawn to his arms and cuddle. The thing is we don’t sit and talk but end up making up everywhere, in the car, hall, hotel lobby and washroom. What should I do?” Anita broke up.

Rohini hugged her tightly. “See, life is not easy as we think it is. Trust me, some emotional ties are not really worth it. I don’t have a relationship with my husband. In the start, both of us tried to save the relationship but it never took off.  I have come to terms with it. In the first place, we fooled ourselves by entering the marriage bond. Now, we are done but living together for the sake of it.”

Rohini gently held Anita’s palms, “I think you need to get away from him. Go away and visit a new city or on an adventure trek. Take the time to figure things out. I bet your fiancé doesn’t know anything about it.” Anita was crestfallen and wore a guilt-ridden face. “That’s okay, Anita. He doesn’t need to know. I am here with you.”

Rohini and Anita have been meeting each other and they hit it off instantly like two long-lost sisters before they realized it. Secrets were spilled out on their personal lives where both took a strong liking to each other.  It became their firm belief that destiny has something to do by bringing them together.  Anita felt better every time she spoke to Rohini and became stronger by the day, slowing picking the thread in her life. She ignored Ajay frantic calls after the horrible night when they last slept together. All it took was meeting Rohini over coffee that made Anita see things with little clarity.

She got a dinner date with her fiancé. Anita was composed and intrigued at the same time with the man she is engaged to.  During their last meeting, he hid phone like a thief and the confidence in him turned shaky when Anita entered the room. A voice inside her head whispered, “This man is dicey.”



Youth spring of romance, love, lust and desire

Image source: Google


Old flame.

Unrequited Love.

New love.

Intimate desire.


Ignite the Fire.

Craving for love.

Unquenched thirst.

Bruised heart.


Youth spring.




shred into pieces.

Dating spree.

Love-making machine.


Good, bad and horrible sex.

Hiding bruises.

Soft heart.

Stone hearted.

Quenching desires.

Void in the heart.

Incomplete soul.

Seeking the soul mate.

Love is all around.

Experimenting with feelings.



Exploring romance and love.

Be spirited.

Love freely.

Kiss madly.

Make wild love.


Dredge unchartered zone.

Liberate the soul.

It’s beauty.

Don’t hold it back.

Unshackle the desires.

Flirt with danger.

Unabashed sex.

Just do it.

Fall in love.


Suffer heartbreak.


Be You.

Revel in the youth spring.

Reclaim it.



World Photography Day: Kodak camera shots


August 19 was World Photography Day. It was a sheer coincidence that on the eve, my old, neglected and dusted Kodak digital camera caught my fancy when it was lying in a corner on the shelf. I dusted the charged, cleaned the camera and got it charged. I decided to take my 7-year-old camera with me when I go out for my coffee and pastry. I clicked and clicked, after ages. Yours truly wasn’t aware of World Photography Day and call it a sheer coincidence. The best thing is that the pictures were not clicked with the smartphone but dear old Digital camera. Trust me, this joy cannot be weighed in words and an elated feeling that the phone upload cannot beat. Here, sharing some picture taken where I am currently based in Mauritius, with you.


This place is the capital and called, Caudan Waterfront in Port Louis, a kinda shopping centre and it gives an interesting view of the mountains. The place is frequented by many tourists and many Indian honeymoon couples can be spotted to pose.


It’s a very old building that was constructed very long time in the capital and me think it was during the British colonisation rule.


I have an inkling and weak spot for those phone booth which is now something of the post. I remember when I went back to Pune in 2011, I walked fishing for an old STD booth but couldn’t find any much to my chagrin. I think mobile phones has somehow robbed us of everything beautiful and simple in life. The phone booth is nestled there for display only.


A view of the Mauritius Parliament and Government House in the capital. I ain’t very sure whose picture is that but guess one of the architects of the family of British colonizers.


A view of the city centre and capital in the sunny afternoon on a Friday.


I love fountain. It’s a beautiful and rare one that sits between one hand, State Bank of Mauritius and the other, HSBC Bank.


The sea view of the Caudanwaterfront which was earlier known as the Dock where super successful flicks such as Romesh Sharma’s Hum and David Dhawan’s Bade Miya Chote Miya and Karan Johar’s Kuch Kuch Hota Hai were shot in the 1990s.


A view leading to the market place where there are several Government offices, Banks and eating outlets.

See ya



PS: The pictures were taken last Friday but dunno why it’s being read as being clicked on 02/01/2008.


Sex with an Ex (4)

Rohini expertly flicked her cards, scanned her opponents and flung it to grab the handful thousand rupees notes that lay scattered on the Chinese wooden table. It was a Saturday evening, nestled in the private lounge in the five-star hotel’s sky rise where the exclusive kitty party and gossip with alcohol flavor, wild dancing, and Tandoori wafted in full swing.

Sanjana, the army wife, couldn’t digest that Rohini beats her in every game and she fumed how the former gets it right every time. It was not an issue of money. Sanjana has plenty of it to spend like a fish. But, this Rohini woman was getting on her nerves. She wasn’t going to let this moment to savor sweet revenge slip away like that.  After all, her army husband shared the grapevine with her. Her cocky smile reeked of wickedness. “Haan! Rohini darling, have another drink to celebrate your victory over me.” The women, swarmed in their expensive gold and designer sari worth several lakhs, giggled. Everyone has a score to settle with the other which they faked by blowing flying kisses and hugs, forever plotted each other’s downfall.

Sanjana sat cross-legged on the sofa,sipped the expensive Johnny Walker Black Label whisky, caressed the glass with her lip and lit a cigarette, spat her venom, “Rohini! Baby! How come Ajay is not seen with you nowadays? I am so concerned love. I heard that you guys are not sleeping together anymore. You need some action on bed. Do something about it. At least, whip him and get a baby.”

The women pretended to be shocked at the lash but deep inside, they were excited like kids prancing around. Rohini got the hang and knew that Ajay has been seeing Anita again. “Oh! Sanjana, dear Sanjana. You are so concerned about me. After all, we are partners in crime. I heard last time, it went horribly wrong for you, na.”

Sanjana hands trembled at Rohini’s words and put the glass on the table. “What do you mean by that?” she was horrified.

“No,” It was the turn of Rohini to smile, “When Major Saab was not around, the young college boy half your age that you brought home to bang you…heard jewellery disappeared in your room and lakhs went into hiding. Be cautious love. Rumors are like the flying jet and cocks travelling faster than light. See, I am concerned too,” just wondering. Sanjana’s face turned red and seethed with anger. She thought, “How come that bitch came to know about it?” Everyone was stunned and fell into deafened silence.

The music roared like thunder when Rohini leapt on her feet, sashayed on the dance floor, gyrated to Gallan Godiyan when she suddenly  tripped and stepped on a foot. She lost her balance and split the liquid on someone’s bright yellow-purple dress which stood spoilt. It was the doing of the silver-colored  whisky that formed a circle of stain on the dress.

Rohini rushed to her, “Sorry darling. I accidentally tripped.” The girl smiled, ‘It’s okay.’

The party finished in the morning. Rohini was in high spirit and sloshed when she tipsily drove her brand new silver Jaguar, zigzagged on the deserted streets of Mumbai. She lost control of the car and hit a Maruti Swift on the back. “Oh! No!” she broke into laughter when the owner of the small car stepped out. The latter understood, “You are drunk. Let me drive you home in my modest car.” As they drove, Rohini slurred, “I think…we will make great friends. I spilt my whisky on your cute dress, banged your car and I am sitting in your car. It happened for a reason. I am sure we are united by destiny.”

The girl on the wheel wondered, “Hope it’s just the alcohol and she’s not a lesbian..” The car reached her house but Rohini insisted on entering the house on her own. She hates being dependent on someone or for that matter, hanging on to clutches in life.  As the girl got back inside the car, Rohini said, “I owe you a coffee treat, at least. Let’s meet tomorrow and send me your number on whatsapp. We can hit it off as friends and we got so much to speak.  I am Rohini. What’s yours?”

“Anita,” she smiled back and drove off. Their destiny was united by one man and they were oblivious to it.



You can read the earlier chapter here.






Lifeless, larva tears and bombs


Blood stains.

Innocents at the mercy of criminals.

Childhood lost and ravaged.

Sitting in blood, like a stone.

Saved and rescued.

Yet, lifeless.


Where are thou!

Bombing a nation.

Ripping apart children.

Criminals wearing the garb of politicians,

discussing in board room the human fate.

Tears turned into larva.

It was not a bomb!

Human lives that exploded.

Who is the terrorist?

Men and women wearing masks.

Pretense of saving the world!

Ripping the heart.

Dare you call yourselves Humans.

Look at the innocent face.

Death hovers, looming and lurking,

above heads.

His tears has stopped.

A boy who should learn to laugh, play and prance around.

He sits on debris.

Many little Dakneesh.

Faces covered in concrete.



Joy and happiness alienated.

His fault?

Be a lesser human.

Born in the wrong world.

So-called civilization.




You kill innocent children.

PS: The poem is dedicated to little Dakneesh and thousands of children massacred and killed by air strikes in Syria. The child was saved under ruin masses in Syria. I am not putting the picture of the child for it simply tears and rip apart the heart.


‪#‎prayforsyria‬  ‪#‎prayforpeace