The CHANGE – A Short Story

~ SELVI ~

” Selvi ! How long are you taking? What the hell are you doing anyways? ” screamed Radha from downstairs.

” Right in a minute lady ! “, Selvi cried out. Taking her sari pallu she wiped her forehead. Swish swooshing the floor clean and carried the bucket downstairs to be met by a glaring pair of eyes.

Selvi lowered her gaze immediately. 6 years she has been working for this house and she still can’t seem to muster the courage to face her landlady.

” Amma….”

” Are you even aware of who these people are? They are gonna be here any moment and look at you. Drudging around like an old lass. Buck up now and get yourself moving ! I want the place spick and span in the next half hour “.

Saying this, Radha walked away in a stern manner, her head in the air.

Her girth and determination made all the difference
Her girth and determination made all the difference

Selvi buckled up her pace and started hurrying to get things done.Who would want to listen to this female’s disgracing speech again. No matter how high you go in life, the rich will behave like poorly bred adults, she muttered more to herself.

A momentary flash ensued and she remembered how her kids yearned for Pongal.

Probably if I do well, get in her good books, maybe she will provide me well. What with this being Pongal and the festival spirit lingering in the air. With that, her thoughts continued on a trail, and the next hour went on in her chores that she could forget everything about her misgivings.

Life has been hard on her but still she woke up everyday to a shining sun and a bright blue sky thanking her stars for the blessings she received in the form of her kids. 2 kids and a drunkard for a husband she had an indomitable spirit always remaining upbeat and cheery even when things were going downhill. Her strong willed personality acted as an iron pillar supporting the family.

Soon her work was done and she took leave from her mistress. Just then she was summoned inside.

Radha counted out the money and handed it over to Selvi, her monthly salary.

” And by the way, tomorrow being Pongal and everything, I wanted to give you this “. Saying so, Radha handed over a bag containing old clothes. ” Sara hardly wears these, and maybe you can put them to some use”.

With a light-hearted smile Selvi spoke. ” Amma. I wish to tell you this. I being your maid doesn’t mean I don’t have my dignity. And while the rich lavish in new things, why should we be denied the pleasure of wearing new clothes? “, she asked indignantly. ” I feel touched by your gesture ma. I really am. But it’s a festival and my kids deserve better than somebody’s worn clothes which has been discarded because they had outgrown it or they don’t match with the latest trends. I don’t question your intentions but your attitude hurts me”, she spoke, a huge lump in her throat obstructing her voice.

” Beggars cannot be choosers”, came the harsh reply, the steel in Radha’s voice unmistakable.

” Just to clarify Mam, I am not what you call , ‘ a beggar ‘. I earn my money fair and square. And I definitely don’t need somebody’s used items. Now, if you will excuse me. I have better things awaiting me back home”, and with that Selvi turned her back to an astonished Radha.

Off she walked, away from that place, her head in the air and the roads ahead blurred in her blinding vision.

                                                                                                                                                             – Pavithraa  Swaminathan


* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

A SISTER’S LETTER

He was rummaging through his cupboard to find the small pills which lulled him to sleep. The cupboard was huge and finding one small bottle was an arduous task for him. It had been three full months since the onset of this life taking disease. People thought of him as retarded but none among them knew that he has been suffering from acute depression.

He was always a jovial child. He scored well throughout the 10 years of his school life. He was among the top five position holders of his school. A bright child, they called him, who was adept in many extra curriculars. Badminton, swimming, painting, pottery and writing were his muse. What other quality could parents yearn for? Teachers were always happy with him. He always won accolades for his school. Everyone was proud of him. Little did they know the oodles of negative emotions he carried in his heart. How could they even guess when he was always smiling? He never cried, never got angry and didn’t speak much.

a sisters letter

This little gentleman never told people that he was bullied for two continuous years. He never told people the shit he went through when he was just 10 years old. His classmates used to make fun him. They would call him ugly (though there were many uglier people than him in his school)  but that bunch of bullies always chose him as their target as they know he was weak at heart. He used to ignore them but late at night, when every one was in a deep slumber, he cried his heart out. Years passed by and he learnt to ignore people. Suddenly, there was a fall in his marks. He wanted to prove all those people that he was not ugly. He started working hard and made his mark in the school. But bullies have no bounds. They now resorted to use his falling marks against him. They called him dumb when all he was, was innocent. They called him a food- the same fool who topped in his class. They called him a gigolo as he never had any girlfriend. He was a true gentleman who never broke a girl’s heart. He never believed in flings but always in true love. How unfortunate that the bullies were not able to find the diamond in his heart.

Now he stood on the cold floor searching for sleeping pills. He wanted to end his life for once and for all. Suddenly, he found a small blue envelope. It was his sister’s letter. She had been in the USA for the past six months. She was well aware of the inner turmoil he was going through. He remembered each and every word she wrote to him in that letter. The end said, “There will be many people who would taunt you for what you are. You will always have to work hard to make them shut their mouths  but if you quit midway, you will be damned. Life is all about dying with the things you never acquired by birth. Work hard, stay positive and overcome your fears.” With tears in his eyes, he kept the letter close to his heart and began with his late night studies. He thanked his sister for being his inspiration and telling her the way of life. Never in the history had a sister’s letter saved the life of her little brother.

 

– Ayushi Gupta


* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

The Story Of a Sadist

 THE STORY OF A SADIST

He was a broken man. Being in love was the best feeling he ever had. He had an abusive past – a dipsomaniac father and a sweeper mother. His mother never had any time for him. Being their only son, he had to spend long lonely hours. For the whole day, he was either at the Government school or locked up in his room, cooking meals for his abusive father. His father used to beat him up but he never complained to his mother. He studied hard and moved out of his house at the age of eighteen. Now he is a manager in a multinational company.

Years passed by and he met a girl whom he loved more than his own life. She used to hold him when he had nightmares. She used to croon to him until he fell asleep. She used to take away all the horrors of his childhood with sweet kisses. He loved her with all his power and might. Their relationship lasted for two years. Thereafter, she left him saying she had found another man. He wept and cried and cursed God. He shouted out to him, “Why me among them all?” He slowly learnt to cope up with his fear and grief.

He started drinking like his father and came home with a whore each night. The women of the street used to whisper sweet nothings in his ear. One night a whore said to him, “Give me all your pains and I will make them disappear like a witch.” She said she loved him and wanted to help him overcome his grief. He obliged.

 

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encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com

He tied her hands with a handcuff and legs with a piece of cloth. He told her how hopeless and broken he felt. Then he brought a sharp knife from his kitchen. It looked like a butcher’s knife. He slowly cut off her long mane and made her bald. He then proceeded to make small gashes and wounds on her unmarked body. “I feel as if I am being stabbed a hundred times”, he said with a lunatic look in his eyes. The girl was filled with acute horror. Her eyes became moist but she kept quiet thinking he will leave her when he is done. After an hour he was done with inflicting this pain.

He still did not uncuff her. “I feel like a fish which has been taken out of water. You see I am suffocating and you said you want to take all my pains? Your demands shall be fulfilled”, he said with his eyes rolling in their sockets. He was laughing like a mad man. The whore realised what situation she has been trapped in. She realised he was a sadist who liked inflicting pain on little girls. There was no escape and no one to help her. She tried to wriggle free from the grip of the handcuffs but in vain. He slowly bought his hands to her neck and pressed it with all his might. She tried to kick and smash him with her tied legs but failed. Everything was blurring and lack of air made her choke. He continued laughing like a maniac. At last, her horror filled eyes came to a deathly standstill. He softly murmured in her ear, “I gave you what you wanted. Its my turn now to take the same medicine.” Saying this, he hanged himself from the ceiling fan, thus bringing an end to this gruesome act.

 

– Ayushi Gupta


* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Beautiful tears

A story by Dove for her lifebouy..


A few months ago when they saw each other for the first time..Days passed and turned in to weeks and months. It seems like a digit but during this time every breath they took has narrated the feeling of longingness. Lonely nights, Dove’s amateur fights and Lifebuoy’s meaningful phone calls.
They finally met 9 months later…

When they first met it was Lifebuoy waiting for her standing tall next to his only love of life – his only car. ? But, This time it was Dove’s turn to wait for him as Lifebuoy is going to arrive in her city.

Dove to herself: OMG!! He is coming.. Just with the thought of “his coming” she blushed everytime she cross marked the calendar and thanked god. She reached at the decided place and decided to take a stroll into the nearby park until he arrive. She was busy analysing the statue of the ruler of the city and her phone rang..

He: Hello…kaha hai tu?
She: Yahi pe pass vale garden me..ok ok I saw you..stay there am coming. ?

She reached till him wanted to hug him but knowing his nature she decided not to hug him publicly. They traveled till hotel in an auto Dove’s favourite transportation mode and his nightmare like travel mode. Hahaha but that is how he is! <3 They hugged each other followed by a gentle kiss. I am so happy that you came ignoring all the odds she whispered. I so wanted to love and he wrapped her in his arms once again and kissed her forehead. A silent tear of love rolled down her cheek. <3

———

Reader’s note: Lifebuoy- The hero of our story is a very sensitive same like all the other good men of this planet, he weighs words before uttering them and one such beautiful man. <3

———-

They rested for a while in each other’s arms before going for the sightseeing. The city which was unfamiliar for her too turned magical instantly. They went for boat ride, palaces, lake side and visited 1000 years old temple. Meaningful silence surrounded them while appreciating beauty of the city. They lived once again like happily ever after.. 🙂 Returned back after the long tiring tour actually he was tired after travelling thousands kms for her.. during the bed time her never ending questionnaire started: Did you miss me? How many times a day and all those deliberate and annoying for him KBC session started as he loves to sleep and “not to let him” is her solemn duty. He took her in his arms and replied: Nah! I didn’t. Just to annoy her. She said “ok” and she kissed him knowing the fact that how much he actually loves her.

The next day arrived and they went for shopping. She was constantly busy thinking how blessed she is to have him in her life. He was a kind of man we can put into the category of a beautiful man. Even though he was a family oriented guy he always manages to find time for her no matter what. This time he travelled almost 1000kms to fulfill her wish and finally the time came which none of them actually like. Time to depart. Before leaving the residence Dove asked to LB how many times do you remember me?

LB replied in his sensible man like manner: Every time I look at any girl, I remember you. In fact I always miss you so much..sensing her sadness she decided to stay strong and this time she pulled him towards her and took him in her arms, hugged him tightly and kissed him.

“Kya baat hai that was awesome” he teased her. And they both laughed. They thanked god for making it happen. <3

His words are enough for her to understand his feelings. It was not easy for him either. She started crying in his arms wanting him not to go. And the tears of love- “the beautiful tears”, had filled her eyes. It was uncontrollable for her knowing how disturbing it could be for him. But she cried her heart out in his arms any way. Tears might have manny different types and kinds or reasons. But for her it was all beautiful to cry for him, with him and for “not to leave without him”. It all started seeming meaningless in that particular moment to her as she realised how ghastly the clock was tick-toking. He kissed her forehead and hold her in his arm tightly for some time saying “yehi hi tto hoon, kaha kahi jaa raha”
With his kind word the “sob sob session” touched the new heights. It was unbearable for her to watch him go. But as usual taking care of her he asked her to leave and reach at her place safely. As soon as she entered inside the room the silence of the empty room made her miss him even more. She started missing him like anything. She went near the temple and asked a question to god, “This entire universe is yours including my pumpkin but can’t you give him to me? Can’t you make him mine? It is Dove’s nature to punish her loved ones by asking questions. Automatically she remembered the dress she wore on the previous day. It must have got his smell intake she thought and took them out from her bag. She hugged her clothes sensing his presence in the surrounding and slept in her bed. Tears roll down her eyes whenever she missed him but she calls them “tears of love”.

“The beautiful tears of love”.

He called her and pampered her saying just stay strong, The more you smile, the sooner I will arrive. And kissed her over the phone.

She followed her command and replied “I know and I am waiting……” then she insisted him to sleep, as he was going to travel thousands kms back again, and kissed him back.

Some stories are not meant to be end they are meant to be loved and lived. Such was their love unique in their own way and incomplete without each other.

©Prakriti.

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

AYHLIS: The Unclaimed Community We All Should Fear

ayhlis

With so many of us turning into “Mr./Ms. Know-it-all” today, it doesn’t take much time for a conversation to turn into a discussion first, second into an argument, then into a quarrel and eventually into a fight, owing majorly to the egotistically supreme nature that these Messrs and The Misses have developed lately, which is predominantly based on absolutely nothing logical at all. It is shockingly ludicrous to find people who have such tenacious standpoints, judgments and perceptions about things they know about only by a hair’s breadth. You can find them everywhere. They are in your offices, in your gym, in trains, buses, flights, at bars and clubs, on social networking forums, in your neighborhood and friend circle, even in your family. And they talk. They talk about whole collection of subjects as if they really know them (they are deluded too :D), be it education,  career, politics/government, environment, policies and rights, medicine, armed forces, terrorism, finance, technologies, countries, law, food, travel, science, history, religion, taboos, socialism, communalism, secularism and a lot more. And also, by obscuring these pitiful vapid little minds even more, the media today is adding more subjects to the unending list of topics to debate upon by these resolute scholars of modern India; a few examples of such subjects would be Tolerance/In-tolerance, Nationalists/Anti-Nationalists, Feminism/Misogyny and more.

The scary part is that these half-literate, attention yearning preachers with copious amounts of energy to blabber and the same amount of confidence if not more, are plenitude. You might not believe me when I say all that. That would obviously be not a shocker for me as I myself got face to face with this hollow specie of humans only when I took off my earphones in public, apparently to relax my eardrums, but the whole idea back-fired in an instant. I found everyone around me talking and talking utter non-sense, and that too about stuff that a 6 year old could have comprehended of being “utter non-sense”. What was more of a hair raiser for me was to watch people buy what this unique specie had to offer them in these highly provocative conversations as I watched their heads swinging from top to down in affirmative motion which made me laugh and worry at the same time. If you want some proofs of their absurdity you can always check-out the comment section on any post (preferably something related to religion or an ongoing political controversy) on any of social networking forums and you will know what kind of mess they create down there. Five minutes of good read can make you dizzy and make you long for your favorite alcoholic beverage.

It has become imperative to realize the dangers and consequences of being too close to this majority class named AYHLIS (Attention-Yearning-Half-Literate-Scholars). Let us know AYHLIS some more and find how can AYHLIS be dangerous for other sensible minorities.

 

  • They are mostly permanent citizens of this country which means they play role in choosing the government by using their wit based on the partial knowledge they accumulate either through television or through social media or through a fellow AYHLIST (Attention Yearning-Half-Literate-Scholar).

 

  • They always have an audience to persuade. Those with lack of education, experience and who fall into even lower strata in terms of logic, sense and knowledge than the members of AYHLIS are in abundance too and these are the ones who turn out to be AYHLIS’ fans and followers at later stages.

 

  • With confidence as high as a hippie high on crystal meth and ketamine combined, its hard for you to make them understand anything whatsoever. It’s easier to make a dead cat understand that it is dead.

 

  • Their confidence and defiance helps them build a lot of credibility among equally untutored audience, which with the help of their breathtaking level of ignorance and lack of prudence are capable of raising a mob, and The Mob is powerful than everything else in our democratic nation.

 

  • AYHLIS have to have a say in every conversation no matter if they are a part of it or not. They have a viewpoint on everything that they are even remotely related to or otherwise, and they would rather die forcing their viewpoint upon you than understand yours; that is the level of commitment and integrity they show towards their goals.

 

  • They believe in forceful edification, what we call naseehat in Urdu and muft ka gyan in Hindi. The topics for edification can vary from your family to your relationship with your spouse, from your career to what car you should buy, from your hairstyle to what friends you should choose, from what you should wear to when you should get married and to whom. One important thing to note here is that the member of AYHLIS community need not be an expert in any of the fields mentioned above to provide you with edification.

 

  • One key characteristic of AYHLIS is that they never perform where no one is seeing because then the whole point is lost. They yearn attention hence perform in full public view which makes social network their favorite area of operation. Next come restaurants, pubs, trains and other public places. It is not uncommon to spot these members with fellow members to seek support when the argument somehow gets weak.

 

  • Mastering the art of imitation has aided them in keeping the conversations going even if they do not have enough substance to talk about. They imitate each other, news anchors, their favorite actors, poets, sometimes even you and everyone else they could and yet they claim their originality.

 

  • Two of the most important attributes that this community has earned during the course of their journey are their inability to understand sarcasm and the ability to change the direction of the whole conversation altogether. Both these attributes were important to be listed together as they go hand in hand. Their inability to understand sarcasm or satire of any sort, even if in their support, is complimented by their ability to turn the conversation to another direction preferably towards some kind of spiteful controversy in order to reach their goal of insulting the silent and sane, making themselves bigger somehow.

 

  • The best way to identify an AYHLIST is that you would never hear them say “I don’t know”. You start the topic and they will talk about it, though making sense is not a pre-requisite. They also master the art of contradicting themselves whenever required. They are known for wearing double standards on their sleeves and hypocrisy round their waists.

 

I personally would want to warn you against this new but fast growing community of becoming  the biggest potential threat to your mental harmony and hence make an appeal to you stay away from it and pledge not to become a part of it yourself.

 

^ Issued in public interest

                                                                                                                                                                    -Anant Gyan Singh

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

 

Why Is The King Always Lonely?

Why is the king Always Lonely

There’s always a desire to be a king in all of us. We want to be number 1, we want to be the rulers and not the ones to get ruled. We run the rat race only to reach the finishing point and then learn that nothing like that really exists. There’s no end to this blind race of desires and unfulfilled wishes. Our expectations only keep soaring and by the time we learn that there’s no winner in this ‘rat race’, it’s already late.

I don’t know if I am the right person to write this, but I really pity the ones who ascend the thrones and entitle themselves with coveted position of the ‘king’.  I really think of their pain as to whom do they really get to talk to when the entire world is under their feet? They don’t have anyone standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them and holding them when they need support. Whom do they really call when they are sick or weak? Or may be, they don’t even have the liberty to be sick or weak. What kind of wretched life is this?

Why do we want to be the king when there’s no companionship, no luxury of friendship there? Why are we such sadist that we want to subject ourselves to so much pain? Why?

And as usual the question remains unanswered.
– Udisha M.

 

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Image courtesy: www.pbase.com

Big Bag Theory: Thank you Delhi

23

 

I sat on the platform waiting for the metro. A wait of 12 minutes for the Airport Express to arrive. The time seemed to be moving so slow. My parents were coming to see me and it was more that 40 days since I had met my mom. I was restless, the plane carrying my parents would touch down at the Delhi Airport any given moment and here I was, fashionably late! What the hell?

I looked around observing the crowd. A newly wedded couple was all set to fly for their honeymoon. The girl’s excitement was beyond measures as she talked to her husband in baby voice and complained that her mother-in-law has made her wear salwar-suit. The innocent husband pacified her saying she can change into comfy shorts as soon as they reached the airport. An old man was playing with his 5-6 year old granddaughter. An anxious fellow was looking at the watch again and again to make sure he doesn’t gets late for the important meeting. My heart was too excited to stay at a place for a long while. I walked the perimeter of the platform as if my walking would have made any difference in approaching train’s speed.

After a wait that seemed like an year, the train arrived. I took my seat and wished it could simply fly to the airport, well it didn’t! 5 minutes into my journey, I got a call from my dad telling me that they have arrived. I shamelessly confessed that I am still on my way. Instead of getting angry my dad said, ‘take your time, we are waiting.’

I got down at the Delhi Aerocity Metro Station and took the feeder for Airport terminal. I was saving those 150 bucks of cab thinking that will help me buy something for parents. The saving costed me another precious 20 minutes, but I reached. Hoping, jumping, running and most importantly smiling I was there at the arrivals to receive them. They came out smiling even when they had been waiting for some 40 minutes without a bite of food or sip of water.  I booked a cab and we got into it, my mom handed over a packet of 2 biscuits to me. I was surprised and asked her what it was?

She said, ‘The air-hostess gave this to me, I saved it for you.’

I didn’t had any words for that. Had it been any of my friends or anyone else in this world, they would have never done that. Nobody waits for you for 40 minutes without complaining. They stood there, hungry and thirsty, still wanted to push the first drop of water down my throat.

That’s how parents are. That’s how mothers are. And may be an alien city can only teach you their importance!

Thank you Delhi! 🙂
– Udisha M.

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

A Friend or More

A Friend or More

I was still conscious of the fact that he won’t be there for long. I didn’t want to show my concern but we both knew emotionally and mentally I was dependent on him. It was he who showed me the world and how to handle it. I was an empty soul when I reached here, like a mud waiting to be moulded into better human and it was he who helped me to be like this. Despite of my irrational nature he never said anything. He had the same power of reading my mood from my face very similar to you. I don’t know how but he just did. I couldn’t escape from him. I had to tell everything. He could read slightest of the strain over my face. He was more than a friend my family, my guardian, my doctor, my teacher mentor as if I couldn’t imagine this place without him. Whenever college comes to my mind it was his figure that stays in front of my eyes. There are no words that can describe his importance for me and he knows it.

I reached back on January the 5th; I could see people talking about last few days at college and brooding over it but it wasn’t materialistic to me. I had other aspects to think about not like the people around me. Three days gone without any great conversation between us. When I woke he was gone and when he came back I was asleep. Then the day came when at last we faced each other. Starting was quiet; eventually things were getting carried over. Anything we said sentiments were clear. The pain could be seen in each other eyes. The only thing left was to shed tears but boys. We are weakest at it. I went to sleep soon knowing that I was about to flow across the brim We didn’t talk on this topic for the rest of time. I tried to divert myself in other things. Basketball was my saviour again, knowing that CAT was round the corner I chose Basket Ball over it. My life and my thoughts, thoughts those are random and reckless. I acted like an complete idiot but still those are mine not someone else’s. The least I could do was to remain loyal to my feelings. Reason was simple I wanted my mind to stay calm until he left. I couldn’t let him show that I felt weak without him. Then I felt unstable knowing he’ll be off soon, a whole big punch was pushed through my stomach. A big vacuum created I front of my eyes parting everything which I felt was once my.

I feared the dooms day which wasn’t so far. Days were passing by so soon I couldn’t even count. This is the worst experience of relativity. A second becomes infinite when you are paralysed by ugly streak of emotions and even a day seems to be a second when you need it the most”. I remember the night two days before Siddhartha left, we were on our bed either side, lights off, waiting for the night to engulf us and discussing what we did that day. I said “this is our last night in college when we are talking to each other in this fashion”. A scrutinizing shiver passed through my spine and right now it wasnt different from the previous one. This is the power of love or whatever you call it; it can make you feel nostalgic for a person who is thousands of kilometres away. After that none of us said anything just waiting to sleep and thinking about the last day together in the college. He was busy that day, so was I. We didn’t want to face each other because we knew what would be the consequences. Then finally the time of farewell, the farewell I gave to Siddhartha.

I drank as much I could I wanted to cry that night and only thing I needed was shoulder to cry upon. I didn’t want to wake you up so texted you, you called. In English one would call it farewell but there are no words in any language that can describe the pain of separation. I shouted as a mad man, shouted in room full of sorrow and joy. I just shouted because I couldn’t do anything else. When you called I cried until we stopped talking, until I slept, until I wasn’t thinking, until I lost my senses. When I cried over the phone I had totally surrendered myself to you, as a small pampered kid crying in his mother’s arms wanted to be consoled over a reason which he also knew is impossible to stop. I made you cry also, I said whatever was buried in my heart for you. I couldn’t see you in more pain and me in regret of not telling you at that time. I only remembered few things of that night as I could barely walk and there were only two things in my mind Siddhartha would be leaving tomorrow and myself being alone…

WarCh!ld

 

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

 

The Unexpected Guest

redbone coonhound 9 month old

My unparallel love for dogs had been a sentence of nuisance for my family. This was the reason I wasn’t allowed to keep a dog. I tried to persuade my parents to have one but to my utter dismay I failed. I argued for the reasons but my parents always avoided and changed the topic. Finally, I went straight to my granma for the answers. She told me some unrealistic facts about dogs and their uncanny abilities which humans didn’t possess. But she also didn’t give straight forward answers. I left, thinking no one is interested in what I want. This was my childhood.

The childhood desire grew with me and the moment I had the opportunity I had a dog that too a Red Hound. The dog’s previous owner had a grey record and was found dead in his apartment by the local authorities. Never the less who cares, I just wanted the dog. It came with me without any dogmatic melodrama which is uncommon for a pre owned pet. It started living with me. Initially it didn’t respond, didn’t eat etc I tried various combinations of food but no success. One night I saw my dog jumping and wagging its tail. The same gesture a dog gives when it sees its owner, thinking may be dog went insane or may be I m dreaming I slept again. Next morning I saw scratches on my outer door as if the dog frantically wanted to leave. I went to see my dog again but it didn’t respond. I was shocked this stupid creature was dancing at night and what happened to it just by overnight.

             Then I started noticing weird acts by my dog during night which surely  concluded that there is someone else present other than me. That night I went on to search about the previous owner and was shocked to know that the man had been on trial for hunting humans with his dogs. Suddenly I heard scratching on my door, it creaked open and I again saw my dog dancing and giving gestures to its owner. My heart beat skipped and then something fell on the floor. The dog turned towards me with blood red eyes waiting for an answer and the answer came in a shrieking and dreadful voice…

                                                                                                                  —War Child

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Bhangarh

 

BHANGARH: What if the stories aren’t just stories?

 On a Saturday night in New Delhi, after getting back from office, I and my then roommate thought of watching a movie to give us the feel of weekend. Not having many options on our laptops and having a taste for horror movies we played a movie called “Trip to Bhangarh”. I must say the movie was nowhere close to be good but was definitely enough to increase our curiosity in the infamous city of Bhangarh and the folklore associated with it, especially when we had heard so much about it. Being a fan of trips planned in the spur of the moment I was on my feet putting a couple of clothes in a small bag in the middle of the night. My roommate obviously was lazy but couldn’t see me go alone on a trip which had all the possibilities to turn out to be super exciting. So we left for the closest bus station which could get us to Bhangarh.

For those who are not familiar with Bhangarh, it’s a small town in the Alwar district of Rajasthan. Bhangarh Fort is located on the border of the Sariska Reserve in Aravali range, famous for being one of the most haunted places in the world.

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 So, we took a bus headed to Jaipur from Kashmere Gate bus station. We were told by the conductor that we had to get off at a small town called “Bahrod” from where we could find a bus to Alwar. It was a freakishly chilly night. We took our seats and the excitement of finally getting to Bhangarh took all the sleep away from my eyes. At around 4 in the morning the bus dropped us at Bahrod and it took another half an hour to find a bus to Alwar. The bus was jam packed with passengers but we managed to find us places to sit in corners. By the time we reached Alwar it was already 7 in the morning. We grabbed ourselves a quick breakfast and bought tickets for Bhangarh. This last phase of our journey was about to take 3 and a half hours.

     

The rickety bus took us amidst one of the most scenic views I had ever seen. The prepossessing forests of Sariska Tiger Reserve, mountains in the distance, camels on the sides of the road and long endless roads ahead made it hard for us to blink our eyes even for a second. We finally reached Bhangarh around twelve in the noon.

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 The first site of a board that said “BHANGARH, 3 kms” with an arrow pointing in the direction of the fort literally gave us goosebumps. This point is the closest to the fort where a public transport bus drops you, so we had to cover those last 3 kms on foot. Getting closer one can see the massive walls of the fort guarding the compound. The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) has put up a sign board stating “Entering the Bhangarh Fort before sunrise and after sunset is strictly prohibited”, which added to the whole eerie feeling that we were experiencing getting closer to the fort. At the entrance one can find a lot of guides who are ready to take the tourists around the fort giving them facts and information about the history associated with it. Though we didn’t ask for the guide but one of them joined us anyway. The first thing that we noticed inside was the sheer number of langoors that were everywhere around. Getting intimidated by their size and sharp teeth I enquired with the guide if they bite or not, to which he replied that none of the langoor has ever bitten anyone inside the fort, which made me feel relieved. So, like other tourists we started clicking pictures of the intricately built temples, palace and the havelis, which is when one of the langoors came from behind of me and bit me hard around my knees. I was in pain, shouting at the top of my voice as my friend, the guide and other tourists looked at me in disbelief as everyone believed that langoors didn’t bite. By this time I was sure that I was the chosen one and I prepared myself for more of mishappenings that I believed was in store for me. I quickly checked the wound which was deep but I was in no condition ready to head back without exploring the fort. So I washed the wound and decided to get to a doctor once we got back to Alwar at night. The guide took us to the different parts inside the fort which was built by Maharaja Maan Singh I for his son Madho Singh in the 17th century. Now was the time for us to ask the much awaited question “Is this place haunted?” Initially the guide brushed aside the topic with a brief laugh but on further insisting and pestering he gave us all the details that we were looking for. He told us the folklore around the city of Bhangarh.

                                      

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According to the folklore, a wicked tantrik used to admire the beautiful Maharani Ratnavati and wanted her to marry him. So he replaced her massage oil with a magic lotion which apparently would have made Maharani to fall in love with him. But Rani’s alertness figured it out and she poured the lotion on a boulder instead which rolled and crushed the Tantrik to death. Just before dying the Tantrik cursed the city of Bhangarh that the whole city will be wiped out by the next morning and people here in Bhangarh believe that is what happened.

Another strange thing that the guide told us was people from across the district come to the fort to pray the djinns which reside there. And strangely, cigarettes and liquor are given as offerings to these djinns. No girl is allowed to even come near the temple of worship as it is believed that if the djinn fall for a girl he won’t let the girl be in touch with the rest of the world. We happened to pass one such temple where the prayers were offered. The person who was getting the prayers done was sitting in a corner and there was just a priest inside the temple with him who was performing the rituals. Drived by our curiosity we stood outside the temple to see what was happening when the man in the corner aggressively started shooing us off. The guide asked us to get aside and allowed us to see the rituals from where the man couldn’t see us. It is hard to believe but we saw the priest make 4 lit cigarettes disappear from his hand right in front of us. I am still not sure if that was an illusion, a trick or is there really something that we are completely unaware of. We were asked not to discuss about the whole thing till the time we were inside the fort.It was getting late as we had to get back to Alwar and then for Delhi so we clicked a few pictures got ready for the journey back and waited eagerly to share our experiences with the people when we got home. By the next early morning we were back in our respective offices in Delhi. It just took a day for us to experience something so amazing and strange. We left with just a bag with a couple of clothes in it, but we came back with a bag full of strange experiences and beautiful stories to share.

                                                                                                                                                         -Anant Gyan Singh

Yes, we are introverts!

wallie.539“You are an introvert! A bloody self centred hypocrite! I have never seen a heartless, selfish woman like you! Bloody feminist!”

This was may be the worst kind of insult I have ever been subjected to in my life! But, that was the day, which left me with millions of unanswered questions! Is being an introvert means being self-centred? Or I am a hypocrite? Do I lack empathy to such levels, that I am tagged as heartless, or I am actually this selfish? I do believe in gender equality, but this doesn’t mean I am a feminist or I hate men! wallie.537

Then why were these adjectives being used for me? 

May be because the world has this atrocious habit of judging people by what they look and what they say! If, somebody chooses to differ or stay quiet, he is always a misfit to the ‘crowd’

Yes, we are introverts, and we like being alone! We are deeply in love with our solitude, we don’t like being disturbed or questioned too much about our thoughts! We talk when we want to, we make ourselves unavailable intentionally, just to seek that one moment of love with ourselves! We don’t like a huge bunch of people around us, we prefer being surrounded by a few chosen ones or sometimes not even then!

Is that thing agitating for you?

If yes, then trust me, it’s not our fault! We aren’t self-centred, we do care for people whom we love and trust me, we don’t need to prove this to the world! That’s the beauty of an introvert! 

We are hypocrites? Oh really? We are the ones who are brutal in terms of expression. We don’t give a shit about this world, we are happy to be the weirdos, the bloody misfits! We are WE! And that’s what we are! Is this being hypocrite? Then Yooo…hoooo… We are that!

As far as being selfish or heartless is concerned! Then read the above text, the answer is conspicuous. 

We prefer writing over speaking, we can overwhelm anyone with the power of our pens. We are the quiet ones, but not the lifeless ones! We stay alone because we want to! We take eons to fall in love, or get over with it! Don’t try to push us outside our tiny cubicles, you might lose us forever.  We are not hard to understand, only if you try seeing us with our perspective! 

-Udisha M.

 

Writer and storyteller

‘Writer ‘
They called. And as usual, I felt offended. Don’t know why, don’t know how. But yes I did! 
I know there must be millions or maybe everybody who finds it a compliment but not me. 
Am I a sadist? Or a maniac? 
 
God knows! Paradox might be the right word. But let’s not get into this business of defining me.
As this post is a justification of the reason for feeling offended when being addressed as a ‘writer’
During my growing up years, I wasn’t a voracious reader; honestly, I am still the same. I never had the ability to read anything and everything, and I still don’t have unlike many others. (Intellectual people to be precise)
 
I read only what I like, or only things which bound me to them, called me within themselves, asked me questions, slapped my ideologies, shattered my ego. Yes, I still like such stuff.
No, I am not a geek. As I said, I am a paradox. 
 
The only thing which I learnt from my choices of books and writings is that, not everyone has an appetite for the so called intellect, not everybody is interested in complicated philosophies, and not everybody is same!  Some people (including me) choose to be lame. And they are happy to be that!
And the most important thing, sometimes the most complicated truths are addressed by simple expressions and many a times the simplest expressions take eons to take the face of truth. 
Too complicated?
 
Yes it is! If you will view it from the eyes of a writer, yes it is complicated.
But from the perception of a ‘storyteller ‘ it’s simple, you like it! Go for it! You don’t like it! No need to give a fuck about it! No complications, no extravagant motives. Just a plain and candid string of sentences containing the meaning of those flying thoughts.
The patrons of literary masterpieces will as always argue with you for such an attitude, but trust me dude, not everybody is intellectual enough to understand that simple things are more complicated than the ones which seem complicated in reality.
 
So before you call me a ‘writer’ kindly understand something, I am not here to write, I am here to, ‘tell stories’. 
Of those deadly crimes, of that girl-next-door, of that old faceless face, of that ghost and witch, and many other idiotic things which are so-not-intellectual. 
You think we are rebels? 
Nah. We are just the ‘storytellers’writer vs storyteller
-Udisha M.

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Why I write?

Why I write? 

I don’t write to create literary masterpieces! I don’t write to match that sky-high heavy lexicon! I don’t write to be called as Shakespeare or Keats! I am hell not interested in creating classics! Yeah! You are right! I am not even good enough to do that!
I write for myself! I write for that unconsolidated voice which keeps screaming in me! I write for those flawless flaws! I write for all those things you termed Impossible! I write for myself!
Read or reject it! That’s genuinely none of my business!!!

* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *
 

‘YOU’ :tiny love tales #1

You are a figment of her memory. Living somewhere at the back of her mind,  somewhere in those lost smiles and dried eyes. Your soul has left,  but it’s touch still remains! Somewhere in the essence of that dried rose,  somewhere in the touch of that silken robe!
You are a dead event,  but tend to remain alive! In the lonely corner of that coffee shop! In that favorite menu kept on that table top. In that hustle bustle of the city!  In the quietness of the lanes which told the stories of your long walks! Hand in hand you walked with her, making her feel that you are the one for her!
Though your finger prints have faded, but that card still holds your writings! Not-so-beautiful,  nor so-charming,  still these words held so much when once they were born on this paper! They are dull and blur,  craving for the meaning which they once held!
Had she known that the tokens which she thought were a memory, will be the chains of her past!
She still holds that dried rose,  trying to smell the love which once it smelled of!
She sits at the same lonely corner of that coffee shop,  eating the same favorites in a hope that somehow they will taste the same as they did!
The stars in the sky are still the same,  but why do they have lost the directions?  The directions of  your love which they once showed to her? 
The shooting stars no more show up to her,  as they are also tired of granting  her wishes!
You compared her beauty to the moon,  now it is the only one watching over her when she weeps at night! #tiny_love_tales
-Udisha M.
* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

no title!

I don’t belong to here,
the sense of belonging eludes me! Don’t know, Am I a believer or an atheist, I want to believe, but belief gets eroded by the mortal existence.
There is something in the air, so suffocating and so disheartening, may be the questions which fill my mind more than anything! 
I don’t belong to where I live, neither do I belong to the space I wish to live. I am a wanderer, whose soul keeps travelling to unknown lands, to undiscovered places. Fighting undefined battles, loving faceless faces! Neither do I belong to the places I travel, nor to the places I have chosen to live. Because I am a wanderer, who doesn’t has a home nor a will! I want to rest, but there is something which doesn’t stops, its just doesn’t stops to let me take a breath, a breath of fresh air, or a gulp of life!
What is it? How is it? Don’t know!
But it is there, somewhere deep, somewhere inside there, which pierces the bone and flesh, and the soul refuses to rest!

-Udisha M.
* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

An open letter to the citizens of India, from an anonymous U.P. woman.

Dear citizens of India,
Well, Uttar Pradesh is that one state which is hated by many, loved by few but is just not ignorable. We are known for our population[eh.. there are hardly handful of “countries” which beat us in that!] our illiteracy, our “desi gawarpana” and above all, we are the ‘Bhaiya jis’ and “Behan jis” for people from other states!
Honestly, I never had any grudges against anyone who judged me. As I have seen my dad getting posted from length and breadth of the country. Everywhere we have faced this kind of judgmental attitude of people.
But we got used to it, thinking there was no point in arguing with these idiots, as they have the ability to drag you to their levels and beat with their experience!
Now, this is a different story of my life and I don’t want to go into its depth. What shattered me most, when I saw the case of two teens being brutally raped and murdered in my own state, in my own land, in the place which I call ‘home’. and then came the Mohanlalganj case! Even more shocking, but afterwards the stories which unfolded giving the clear pictures were however ignored by the media and even the people!
I felt disgusted and dishonored as any human would do, our bunch of friends decided to protest irrespective of our busy work schedules and we did that.
But there was something more happening around us, on Facebook, on Twitter, or almost every social networking platform. People had started abusing us (the people of UP) just because we are from UP!
Is it a crime to be born in a state which is considered to be the land of Shiv, Ram, and Krishna?
Atrocities on women is not just a problem of my own state. If you go through the statistics, the number of cases of female foeticide, domestic violence, child abuse are happening everywhere even higher in the so called ‘hi-tech’ states. This doesn’t means I or any of UPite doesn’t wants the criminals to be punished.
We boast of the highest number of world heritage sites(including the Taj Mahal) highest number of elite services officers, ISRO scientists, and all blinded people can see is the number of labors going from UP and Bihar to their states.
Even in our state we have labor class coming from different parts of our country. Trust me, they too are as illiterate and as ill-mannered as you describe the UP and Bihar’s labor class. They too are making an average of more than 70% criminals of our states. At times we feel fed up of them, but we blame them not the place or people they belong to. We understand that good and bad people are everywhere, and the bad ones should be nailed. We never insult anyone saying that, “Meri kaam-waali ya mera garbage uthaane wala ladka tumhare state ka hai! Or your state is producing only rapists and thieves!”
Because we understand, underprivileged are underprivileged, they do not have any cast, creed or color and even “REGION” If they have chosen to leave their home behind and walk into a new world, there must be some agony behind it.
As far as our habit of saying, ‘Bhaiya’ or ‘Didi’ is concerned. Then let me remind you, ‘Bhaiya and Didi’ are the words of your national language. and I don’t think so talking in your national language is a crime anywhere!
We address everyone with these words as a mark of respect, even you people use such words in your native language, which we find funny. But we don’t make fun of it as we respect the fact that’s its your mother tongue and you are emotional about its use.
As far as our weird habits are concerned, that our men eat pan-masala, or walk around with a ‘angocha’ on their shoulder. Then there are people in this country, who wear sarongs(lungi to be precise) 8 meter dhoti sarees, weird headgear and what not!
But we never laugh on them, because we have been brought up believing that we must respect the diversity of our country, and we have always done that! And as far as eating Pan/Masala and spitting on random places is considered, our state has started drives to get rid of them. And yeah, leave this, there are states where the consumption of alcohol and drugs tops the charts! Those states are not ours, they are the hi-tech ones with ‘Modern people’
UP and Bihar men are being beaten up in other states, just because they are able to qualify the exams and grab the jobs more easily than the localities! Now tell me, is it a crime in being more hardworking or more intellectual than other people? Children from UP and Bihar grow up with the fact that they have a tough competition to face, be it on state level, or on National level or any damn level. They grow up facing the harsh realities, they know if they don’t grab a decent job, their parents don’t have enough to set up a business or start something for them. The ones from small towns have to leave their homes at tender age of 13-14 for further studies.The age at which you people throw teenage tantrums to your family members. If you actually want to see the struggle, come over, I will take you to the dungeon corners of Lucknow and Allahabad, where students burn the night oil to make a future. We have seen young boys living on salt and rice and becoming class one officers with shear hard-work! If you think I am joking, then just read any random story of an elite services officers from our state, what all they face for the sake of career. On top of that, people blame them for eating away their jobs! Heights! If you feel so insecure about your job, then work harder than them and beat them in competition! As simple as that!
Yes, I do agree to the fact that UP and Bihar still need a lot of development in few aspects. We have produced the maximum number of Prime Ministers for the country, we are considered to be the king-makers in national politics. And may be this is the curse of our fate. Every time politicians try to woo us with their long and wide promises only to prove them futile after elections. Be it Narendra Modi or be it Rahul Gandhi. They know our potentials, they know our caliber, but still all they can see is their vote banks! But it doesn’t means that these states are worthless. At present, the maximum number of youngsters joining the armed forces officer cadre are being produced by these 2 states. The highest number of IAS, IES, IFS officers are coming from these two states( surprised? check the statistics baby!)
and if you still think that people who speak your national language are ‘gawars’ toh ‘Bhaiya ji/ behan Ji! ye rahi aap ki soch! Mujhe geeri huvi mili thi!’
Sincerely,
An anonymous woman from UP.
* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Patriotism: The Social Media Patriots

Patriotism: meaning and perception

Patriotism is it real


Google says ‘Patriotism’ means “the quality of being patriotic; vigorous support for one’s country.”
Well, that’s pretty confusing. Honestly, I never understood the real meaning of being a patriot or being patriotic or patriotism. I always felt proud when I saw my country’s flag flying high, I always had goosebumps while singing my national anthem, I danced like hell when I saw the Indian Cricket Team Captain lifting the World Cup Trophy, I clapped every time I saw any Indian bagging a medal at Olympics, I felt angry and frustrated when I saw my innocent countrymen getting killed in terrorist attack.

This what patriotism means? Isn’t it?
I guess, most of you will say yes! May be, in some ways it is! But is singing a national anthem or saluting a flag enough? What about the small and tiny things which we usually ignore without giving it a second thought?

What about keeping the roads of our country clean? or what about making sure that the laws and rules of our constitution are followed well? Many of you will say that its the work of judiciary to assure that these things are taken care off. Frankly speaking, if it is so, then why does the law asks you to ‘wear a helmet while driving’? Or why does it comes to your doorsteps to check whether your child has taken his dose of polio vaccine or not? 

Its non of government’s business if you meet with an accident and suffer serious injuries because of absence of helmet, or your child doesn’t takes the vaccines and falls prey to a contagious disease.

Being patriotic is not a ‘gesture’, it is supposed to be a ‘way of life’. You complain about rising petrol prices and at the same time, don’t even bother to take a receipt after refuelling your bike/car, in a way you are yourself supporting black-marketing of the black gold, as we call it! You might haven’t noticed it, but this is the truth. Somewhere, down the line, mine and yours way of living is corrupted, and this little corruptions has given birth to the bigger monster which is ready to swallow our integrity and self-respect on the national level.

We keep putting stupid updates and mock around the politicians on Facebook just to show how ‘cognizant’ we are! But how many of you actually take pains to register yourself to vote?
I guess hardly handful of you! You can put thousand allegations on some party’s PM candidate but you yourself don’t know who is the contender of that party from your constituency! Is it being ‘cognizant’? I don’t think so! This is being stupid and ignorant.

Above things are condemning! Isn’t it? But they are the harsh truth. It is said that ‘take care of the smaller things! The bigger ones will fall in place on their own!’, you want bigger changes in your country, but you don’t want to change the smaller things in you! You don’t want to take pains to park your car in a paid parking lot, and then you expect that the roads shouldn’t be congested. You don’t want to take pains to walk to the dust-bin to throw the trash but you expect that the roads should be clean! You raise a voice against the injustice done to a rape victim but don’t mind watching/reading movies or novels where women are been projected as an object!


Is it shameful? Or its shear hypocrisy?
If you expect someone else to change, then be that ‘someone’ first! Do your bit for the country and then expect others to follow!
I repeat my words, ‘patriotism is not a gesture, its a way of life!’
JAI HIND!!



* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

Confessions of an Ugly girl!

Confessions of an Ugly girl!

What is ugly? Or what does being ugly means?
Avni never understood this! She was a below average student in her school days. She was 4 feet, 11 inches in height and was gifted with extremely dark complexion! She wore a thick pair of spectacles and was quiet heavy in weight!
She was a loner! Nobody wanted to be her friend as she wasn’t the ‘cool chic’ of the class. She was secluded and even ignored! Here’s her story from her point of view!


I am Avni Awasthi, and I am ugly as they call me! My mom always taught me that beauty is about a person’s perception and his/her’s thought process and not about the color of skin or facial features. But this world kept proving my mom wrong! I was put down again and again for being dark in complexion, for being short in height! For being heavy in weight! I was not good at studies but was a good dancer, but I was never given the center stage as I was fat, short in height and didn’t had a pretty face!

As a kid, I always tried pleasing the teachers by giving them flowers or little gifts which children of my age did, but I never got that, ‘awwww…. so cute!’ response by any of them! May be I didn’t looked like a cute kid of my age. That was disheartening, but my mom said that was OK! I tried smiling all along but it started affecting my confidence level. 

When I came in my teens, the girls around me started forming the ‘cool gang’ in school and my locality! For them I was always a misfit or an insult to their ‘cool’ group! They laughed at me if I tried dressing up like them, they laughed at me if I dressed like myself, they laughed at me if I wore heels, they laughed if I didn’t, according to them, I was born ugly and was supposed to be laughed at! I felt humiliated an dishonored but things didn’t changed. I had accepted the fact that I was ugly and god had taken some kind of revenge by making me the way I was! Still a hope existed in my heart that things will get better when I step in college as college crowd is better than that of school!

I entered the college with many excitements and some fears in heart. Soon, after commencement of our semesters we had fresher party, where we had to go in couples. I saw the pretty girls of my class getting approached by tens of boys, but nobody approached me, I felt cornered and rejected yet again. My looks proved that I will never be able to find affection from anyone. 

Time changed and I started focusing on my studies, I was a good performer in class now. Teachers had started appreciating me for my good grades, some of my classmates became my friends because they needed help in studies. I found it selfish of them but still I entertained them because the idea of cornered again and yet again had started haunting me!

Out of all the friends which I had in my group, I had started falling for one of my guy-friend. He was indeed a great friend and respected me alot, but I knew he will never like me as in the way I liked him. I wanted to try once, but becoming a ‘butt of joke’ again was a nightmare for me. I stayed silent and he found some girl for himself. I felt rejected but I bared with it quietly, as they said I was ugly!

I passed out from college and found a job for myself, by this time alot of things had changed, people didn’t discriminated in terms of looks atleast on professional level. They employed you if you prove that you had brains. Still, girls who were prettier grabbed more attention of the senior men, and got better opportunities. I had to put up a brave fight at every damn level. Still, I fought for my survival!

Few years rolled by, my parents had started looking for a suitable match for me, but nobody wanted to marry me. For obvious reason, I was 4 feet, 11 inches and resembled any Red Indian you would have came across. Many parents rejected me for their sons saying how can they marry their sons to such a ‘ugly’ girl, whereas the guys put me down saying, that everything is OK about me, but still they need a wife who is representable, and I was surely not that! Some asked for huge dowry in return of marrying an ‘ugly’ girl like me!
My fears and insecurities of teens had come back again and yet again! The world was teaching me, that in a MAN-made world, an ‘ugly’ WOman [as they call me] has no space! May be the ‘MAN’-kind has named us ‘WO’-man because they find us as an object which is suppose to ‘WOO’men! 

I decided that I will never marry! I will never let any man see that part of my soul which I think isn’t ‘ugly’. I don’t know why the world is obsessed with fairer skin but I loved my dark skin!
I am 30 now, and a successful career woman! My parents don’t force me to get married anymore as they have also understood that not everyone has got a ‘soul-mate’ in this world! And I have decided something, some years down the line, I will adopt an ‘ugly’ girl and teach her that how ‘fair’ the world is to the ‘fairer’ skin and how ‘unfair’ the world is to the ‘darker’ skin!



* © MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content *

An encounter with an army wife!

An encounter with an army wife!
[a page from my diary!]

Encounter with an army wifeArmy wives are strong, yes they are! But how much strong? I always wondered! Thinking why do army men always praise their wives for being their backbone, when they are themselves born to kill and trained to serve!
My doubts were cleared when I met this incredible woman!
She shifted in our locality just a few months back, we being caring and responsible neighbours invited her family for a dinner at our place. Her facial features clearly showed that she was not much older than me, hardly 5-7 years senior! May be because of that we got along very well. I asked her, why is she staying in our locality instead of her comfortable cantonment, she replied saying that her workplace is quiet near to our locality and very far from cantonment area, plus she has a 4 year old daughter so she can easily come home during her lunch hours to see her.

Her daughter was a real cute and chubby kid, who often came to our place to play with my toys, as I still have a considerable collection.
One fine day, I came home from my office and heard few ladies talking in my drawing room, she too was there among them. Since, she was my friend as well I joined the group even when I was getting too bored with their ‘I grew up my child like that!’, ‘When I was in my pregnancy blah…blah..blah… things happened!’ and all that!

These talks were irritating for me, as I am neither married nor a mother, so obviously wanted to run away.
‘Mrs. Rawat why don’t you share something!’, one of the ladies asked her.
‘What can I say Mrs. Pandey? My daughter was a pre-mature child, so I didn’t get much to plan and think of my child or the things will come!’, she replied with a smile.
“OMG! Then your daughter must have been a very difficult child! Who all were there with you at that time?’, some lady asked her.
‘Nobody!’, she replied with the same smile.

I was shocked to hear this, I raised my head and started staring at her, wondering what is she talking? Is she serious?

‘What do you mean Mrs. Rawat? Your husband or any other family member was not there with you during your child-birth?’, somebody asked.
‘As I said, my daughter is a pre-mature baby! My husband was posted out of the city and I was living alone, my mom and dad were supposed to come 15 days before my delivery date for my support but things went wrong I had to help myself to the hospital much before the due date!’, she replied.
‘OMG! How did you do that? How can you go alone to the hospital in so much pain?’, our jaws almost dropped.
‘When you are in trouble, god is there with you! That’s what I believe, I called my mom and asked her to take the next flight to my place as soon as I started feeling the pain, then I called the hospital and requested them to send an ambulance as I was no more in condition to drive! Hospital nurses were kind enough to come as early as they could, they helped me lock the doors of house and get inside the ambulance, I don’t remember what happened exactly after that! I was just following the orders which were given to me and kept requesting the nurses to keep my child safe till the time my mom doesn’t arrives! Luckily, by the time my child was born few of my neighbors had got the news and came to receive my child and take care of her!’, she told us.

‘Were you scared at that time?’, I asked her thinking what was she made of?
‘I was dear, but you see at that time the only thing which was important was my child’s well-being! So I did what was right for her! My husband had told me before our wedding itself that I am getting married to an army man, I should be strong enough to bear anything and everything!’, she replied proudly! Her sparkling eyes showed how much she must have bared at that moment, her fears, her fortitude, everything!

I literally had goosebumps on hearing all what she narrated, becoming a mother is a dream for every woman, but we can’t dream of a childbirth in which we won’t be having anyone to support us. Their was a sense of great respect arising in my eyes for her. It is truly said, ‘If you think soldiers are very strong, then look at the women who stand behind them.’


-Udisha M.


*© MagMug 2016 . Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to the Author and www.magmug.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content*