Finally, I made upto it.

I have to thank all of you a lot and again thank you a lot. Why? Because with your love and support I have made to this stage.

I have got 500 friends and well wishers today. All of them who believed in me, supported me, and above all guided me.

When in 2016, I started, I wrote for venting, after that it became a support system to fight my inner devils, then sometime later it became ranting and now I am trying to live my dream of being a writer, blogger and learner of the skill through it. In all the stages, your love and wishes have supported me along the journey.

Hope you continue to be around and support me to grow.


High standards of beauty industry have gone beyond realistic measures. The ‘zero’ figure lable has taken the society in a tight grip that it is near to impossible to come out of it.

The girls in today’s generation have taken it to the heart and it’s not their fault alone but as a society, we are equally responsible for the deteriorating health condition of young girls.

The beauty industry has set such unrealistic standards that are not achievable by every one. Moreover, the girls are expected to follow the trend from the early ages. Not all, but majority of families do want their girls to be more attractive than their relatives’ or friends’ daughters. Specially, this mentality is observed in the upper middle and middle class families.

The result is nothing but negative in any case. Either the girls suffer from eating disorders or depression, anxiety and other mental issues. These problems give rise to many health issues.

I’ve seen couple of girls loosing their lives in the process. One of my classmate’s sister got divorced on the same issue. You know, what the reason was? The girl had dusky complexion. It hardly matters what complexion the husband was but he wanted a fair complexion, slim wife, to show off in his circle. This is not all, one girl in my aquaintance had to go through a big loss, she had a miscarriage. No, here no one else was responsible but herself or indirectly the beauty Standards set by the society.

Some days back, I was going through some random pictures, and believe me, some of those were not for sane mind. To achieve the figure, complexion height, skin, hair, eye color what not, they have gone under the knife. And one shocking piece of news I would like to share with you all, this standard now is not limited to girls alone but has gripped the young boys too.

Couple of months ago, me and my hubby were discussing some line to develop into a story when suddenly he saw a news scroll on his phone and was taken aback. He told me that a teen ager, not more that 17 years of age decided to undergo the knife to increase his height. The first sitting was over and second surgery was being planned, but before it could take place, the boy developed some infection, where bones in his legs were cut and extra bones were fitted, to increase his height.

What do you think, could have happened? The boy could not survive the night. Within a week from the surgery, all was over. A thriving life was sacrificed for the unrealistic beauty standards.

Such stories and images are disturbing. It’s hard to understand why this is so important and why do we run blindly behind such things.

My writing day so far

My all writing days have the same fate! Each day is pretty much the same. I have not written much.

As, I have already informed you all, long ago that I have been trying to write a memoir about my father. But what should I say about my pace. I am not an inch ahead from the point, I wrote last, a couple of months ago.

My emotions take over me and then comes a halt. Everytime, I beat myself to sit down and write, can’t write more than few words. How on earth, am I supposed to make any progress? Only thinking to complete my book can’t make me complete it, right? I understand to actually glue myself down to the seat of my chair and keep my fingers playing the the soothing music of tip-tap over the keyboard.

I don’t see it happening any of the day I decide to write. May be, I should switch to phone from laptop. But that is more hectic. There are many reasons behind that, too.

Laundry as unsorted thoughts

I hate folding laundry. Actually, I must say, I just can’t bring up myself to do this tedious job. My biggest procrastination after writing is folding the washed laundry.

It happens many times that I go to fold it and then giving it a look my mind to me says,’ Nah! Some other time. Any other day. You have lot more things to do right now.’ And then I cross pass the laundry. Then days turn into weeks and weeks into a month.

My laundry is then cleared in instalments…I mean, my hubby folds and keeps his clothes, though being a busy bee and completely submerged into his work, he does takes out time . Then my kids do their part and in last my daughter helps me out with mine.

I don’t know why but I just can’t do it. Sorting out laundry feels like sorting out my thoughts and I just hate sorting out my thoughts. May be that’s why My laundry keeps on mounting day by day just like my thoughts pile up in my head and sometimes try to explode and when I try to write, all mixed up and confused emotions come out. Which takes long to organise.


I consider myself lucky over a coincidence, that I make an acute angle of capital cities. As I was born in the capital of a state largest in my country in past years, it’s my maternal home then my paternal home is again in the capital city of the largest state of the present times. And now for the third point of the angle, I am marries in the capital city of a southern state of my country.

There is one more coincidence, here. The state I was born in got divided into two states and the state I got married into, too, got divided into two. But, people here have love and care for each other, the 2ay they had prior to division. The differences seen are only on the political level.

The capital city, I am married into is one of the metropolitan cities if the country and leads a role in the capital formation of the state.


Bhaba if you have been here between us, you would be celebrating your 100th birthday next year.

We would’ve been lucky people to have you around. Bhaba though you’re no more with us physically, I assume you are present with us in your purest form in the minutest existence possible.

I can sometimes feel your angelic presence whenever I go to my parents’ place.

It was a lovely and lively place then. I now miss you more than ever. Any elderly lady reminds me of you. In their smiles, the way talk and get irritated or irritate(just some times) the way they walk doubled but with self confidence… I see you.

Six minutes challenge

Word count : 112

Held hostage

It’s been 2 hours since she was on the road, walking-running all the way from a building but not reaching somewhere, she felt safe.

Sudden cramps in her abdomen, told her that the time is near. She cannot keep on going pointlessly. She needed to  look for some nursing home or any clinic or else the child might come out on its own, under the sky right here on the road.

Lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed she relived her ordeal as a hostage. That morning she was leaving to meet the doctor when a call from her husband’s office interrupted her. She was asked to bring his bank documents to office while on her way to doctor.

From the frozen glass door she tried to peep in her husband’s cabin. She couldn’t make out, who was in there and how many of them but she guessed,  the black shadowy figure by the window is her husband, who wore black and black that day for the meeting. But why was he in strange position, she thought to herself.

Giving no serious thought to the oddity of the situation, she knocked the door and not waiting for the answer, pushed the door open. The scene inside was more than what she could take.

Continue reading “Held hostage”