I, Me, Myself

This story was written in the summer of 2013 as an entry for the annual Deccan Herald Short Story Competition. As she nuzzled against me, I felt the warmth of her little body, the slow breathing synchronising with mine. Her almond eyes tightly shut, her somnolent mind led for a walk amongst the stars. I remember the very first time I held Maya to my bosom. My blood was still throbbing following the eight hours of intense labour. I was drained, parched and broken. Yet true to her name, those little fingers, as I entwined mine with hers, wielded a magic wand. No sooner than did I peer into those brown eyes, that I was healed. My baby. The tiny steps she took, were momentous milestones in our lives. Her tiny feet traced a path the lit its way into our hearts. First a coo then a call, our little girl was growing up fast. It came as a bolt from the blue. One day my little girl was jumping and playing about, walking into walls, losing her balance on the bicycle

An insight into the intriguing lives of the Mughal dynasty, especially their women and in particular their daughters... The Mistress of the Throne is a semi fictional memoir of  the unsung princess Jahanara and how she played a defining role in shaping India's history from behind the veils.  A powerful, independent and strong character, born  perhaps about 500 years ahead of time, her remarkable life, her vision and her sacrifices appear to be the less chronicled aspects of what undoubtedly was the Golden Era of the Mughal Rule. Her unparalleled love for her eccentric family is remarkable. As an adolescent she was thrust into the forefront of royal responsibilities soon after her mother , the legendary Mumtaz Mahal breathed her last, yet this Persian beauty wore the title of Shah Jahan 's Empress and that of a foster mother to her siblings with grace and dignity. The melancholy of her own life not withstanding, she was the will behind the Taj Mahal, thus immortalizing her p

The blue sky, the bird and the butterfly, In all their cerulean glory, for my attention do vie, I strain my brain to not give a grain, Putting to work all those years of train. Teasing me with a sweep and caress, The evening breeze seeks to ease my brows creased with stress. Yet I persevere, hard and fast, But I do fear my will won't last, Alas, I have been at this for the day past. Yet, to my master, I implore, The myriad distractions shall you ignore! Dear, hippocampus , I've a lot of work you see, Do, I can't , all that which would set my spirit free. And so despite the finger itch, I must put in the next stitch. Yet, I see how you're writing without a glitch, And now the urge to have me read has reached , a fever's pitch. Ah well, about physiology, (for now), the devil may care, For I will pick up that pen and lay my thoughts bare. Thus, I write, frigid and terse, And out flows this rusty verse. * to all the connoisseurs out there

I woke up this morning to the very reassuring news that govt MBBS doctors in Karnataka are to see a salary hike , and it will now see them cashing in on 60K a month!! Yayy that's great news for my clan! And even more so for " MY CLAN " i.e. all those fresh MBBS graduates (read #babydocs, #jrdocs, #jrs) at the mercy of mankind, coursing through all of Dante's hells to arrive at the ultimate prize ... a PG seat! ( associated perks : fulfilled ambition, reinstilled sense of self worth, a job and a salary, recognition, a SPOUSE!!!, ... and I've also heard whispered in some corners 'Happiness!!') And so as we course through this phantasmic journey, unmindful of the endless night duties, the thesis terrors, the next quest for DM/Mch and other what nots that will follow in the post PG life...! As the rest of the world scales great heights ( specifically with regards to their bank accounts), we trudge along the dreary path where exams are mile stones and