When you are rejected right from the time you set foot on earth, you either,
I chose the latter.
When I was born my half Scottish grandma had two expectations:
I was neither.
She put her hands on her head in disappointment. They remained glued there until she voiced her discontent to me.
I could do nothing about it. I took my revenge by hiding her…
For the past one month, we have been preparing for my sister’s visit from the USA after a period of two years. One year was swallowed by the pandemic.
She checked and rechecked before booking her tickets from Dallas, Texas to Germany. It seemed clear to travel here as a tourist. The airline warned her that if rules change, they will cancel her flight.
Nothing happened and she left for Europe on her supposedly two-month-long vacation. The rooms in our large house and the hospitality in our hearts have been craving the visits of our loved ones.
Like every mother…
Raised as a Roman Catholic, I spent all my life studying in a girls’ convent school in New Delhi, India. I worked in close quarters with the nuns.
My broken Catholic family was blasphemous in their eyes. They punished me by eroding whatever self-worth I had left. But it was not until I lived with them, that they caused permanent damage.
For higher studies, my mother sent me to a pristine hill station, close to the Himalayas. This was equal to a paradise on earth to a writer and musician like me.
The chilly air, misty nights, and beautiful scenery…
It has been exactly 14 months, 10 days since I last saw my husband and children. As a virus had just started to sweep several parts of the world, I underestimated its potential and took off.
Yes took off to a different country, leaving my kids aged 6 and 8 behind. My pulse raced faster than the luggage on the check-in belt as I braved a face to bid them goodbye with no return date in sight.
Glancing at the family, one last time through the small opening before making my way to the aircraft, I fought those tears from…
My name is Shireen Sinclair and I hail from India, a colorful country with the most hospitable people.
I studied to be a journalist, pursuing Opera on the side. We have no conservatories in India to learn this art. Most parents encourage their children to keep extra-curricular activities to a limit, as the chances that you earn a living through them are quite odd. As an artist — writer and singer, still struggling, I do get the point. To hear me sing, refer to this link
I am the eldest of three siblings. My parents did not have the most…
She rotated in circles trying to grasp whatever her weak hands could hurriedly clench. Every pencil, every sock, every stationery item, was to her a treasure her careless children had lost.
Helene is 87 years old, suffering from dementia, and lives in an old-age home. But to herself, she is a middle-aged concerned mother, trying to fulfill her duties to the fullest.
After collecting bits and pieces of their uniform for school from different rooms, she has to still ready their breakfast and lunch. …
I grew up in a household of sophisticated Anglo-Indians. They felt out of place in an environment they did not belong to.
Our friends and acquaintances were ambitious couples married to incompatible partners. Their exhausted bodies and dissatisfied souls craved parties hosted at our spacious bungalow.
They drowned their sorrows in alcohol, and danced their way into strange arms. Uncontrollable desire pushed them into strange rooms. They locked themselves there.
I cupped my ears at the door to hear their muffled cries of pleasure. When I was lucky, I caught a glimpse or two from the keyhole. At that time…
Once upon a time, when the weather outside was hot and sultry, my smart daughter smuggled a forbidden can of coke. Thinking that no one will ever know, she proceeded in the backyard to dump its contents in her tiny body.
The quantity was too much for her tiny body, so she innocently hid this open coke can in the bushes. While it rested in a corner, another creature made it his hiding place.
Nosy Mumma was also weeding in the distance and knew that her daughter was up to something.
Had she made the almost empty can disappear, I…
Many believe that making your passion your means of earning leads to greater longevity. Work won’t feel like work. You’d look forward to getting through those doors. It will feel like a permanent vacation. You’ll be on a permanent high.
Not true. Everyone appreciates a day off, even when the work they do is something they love.
I have always been a singer at heart. Had it not been for my mother’s persistence, I would have never done anything else. Even before school was over, I was making enough as a wedding singer.
My mother’s failed marriage forced her to…
You sepulcher of love shining bright
As pure as the dew before the dawn
A result of guilt, or love, or both
Moonshine glimmers as you stand tall
Your marble bodice has withheld
Brutal attacks and loot and muck
Your engraved necklaces hang shamelessly
Devoid of precious stones with dust
Emblem of love, you stood the test of time
Still as the eighth wonder alive
Your ivory white shimmer lures
Lovers from far and wide
The wind whistles through the morgue
A song to which anklets jive
Your romantic legend is wild honey
To morbid lips dying to meet
Your aura austere hides thoughts blurry
5X Top writer. I help people appreciate life by writing about absurdities experienced in the third world. Feminist at heart using music and humor to lighten up!