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…
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…
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
We live in Rochester, NY, a beautiful town in upstate New York. When we moved here three years ago, we knew it would not be for good. My husband works as a temporary contractor for an IT firm and can do nothing to settle down here permanently.
In the year 2014, after spending four years in the USA, our visa did not renew. The USCIS took one year to think about our case and gave us 15 days to return back. We had to trash a lot of stuff in order to empty the apartment in time.
In 2017, we…
Bungalow number D-5 in Nithari, a village close to the outskirts of New Delhi — the capital of India, was a haven for the rich. Its owner Moninder Singh Pandher, a rich businessman had good relations with the big shots. Rich politicians and members of the judiciary met at his bungalow to drink up and satisfy their lust.
Pandher lived here without his wife and children. His house help Koli stayed with him. Poor women from the neighboring slum frequented his premises as call girls.
Pappu Lal worked three doors down. His daughter Rachna had gone missing. He tried to…
I, I never knew you’d run from me
Leaving me, cold, young, and free
Standing on the edge
Tonight, I met a stranger wild and free
Wanting to go all the way with me
I needed it as well
Ch: Lurking through the shadows though you’re never there
I’m screaming to let go, but you never care
I, I’ve made a pact for me
To brush your scent aside of me
And smell someone new
I cry, reach out from the very depths
Drown me in your drunkenness
Let me be aloof
Ch: Lurking through the shadows though you’re never…
3X 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!