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Bonds and Beyond…

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Undoubtedly, the journey from the vulnerable to the fortified self had not been an undemanding one. Nonetheless, it was possible only because Ashima found friends, almost discovered them, here and there and everywhere by changing, not only her perception but also her perspective towards attachment and association. T he digital clock on her phone screamed nine o’clock! As her thoughts raced to collect all that she had missed in the past couple of hours, Ashima struggled with the obstinate slumber that still slowed her down. Indeed, she was getting reckless by the day. Streaming through series upto the ungodly hours of the night was bound to find someone of her age, fazed and furtive the following day. Living single was liberating after decades of dealing with others but that could barely defend the delinquent demeanor she had displayed lately. Absolving herself too quickly, she put on a feisty mood and went about with her morning ablutions, humming to herself all the while. As

Death of Sorts

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I must admit here that when we were "on the threshold of being no more," we succeeded in being more…..Unwittingly, the 'eye' preceded the 'I' and for the first time, we realized what it means to not take this life for granted. I t seemed to be over. The doctor had pronounced her dead. A surreptitious surgery beset by infections and indolence, further beefed up by outrageous alterations in her tenderly tactile anatomy. That was a vicious verdict on a not-so-vindictive day. Our senses were getting slaughtered as both of us held on to each other, flickering, yet firm to combat cancer that had reared its serpentine head to seize our mother. The next two weeks were a blur of medical jargon, interminable investigations, cursory calls, and feverish faith. It was decided or perhaps destined. 'Mamoni', as we lovingly called her, would need to be airborne to another city that proposed a prospect that was propitious and prevailing. The surgery took

Durga’s Homecoming

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A new journey begins for a new Durga designated to vanquish the new Asura, more appropriately, Asuras. A fter a precious interim of ten months, my little Durga was coming home. The joy was immense as was my anticipated relief. Through all my years, I never missed the opportunity of being in the proximity of the unique festival, the Durga Puja. Its exuberance overwhelms me every year and I respond to it ecstatically. But that year, it didn't even seem that the celebrations were going on. It didn't depress me though, for once, as I lay in bed away from the festivities that fostered the Feminine Energy of existence. Such was her captivity. No lesser than the one Maa Durga exercises on her devotees, I pondered. I could feel her twisting and jabbing in my belly. Little could we wait to see each other. According to Hindu mythology, Durga is created by the Gods to slay the evil demon, Mahishasura. She was born with astounding beauty and power, empowered by the collec

Our Story

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A blog was born to share the quotidian tales of life. Tales of your lives and ours. R andomness struck us as we bonded, not on the first day of the primary, junior or even senior school for that matter, but in the 11th grade with only a mere one and a half years left to step out of our second homes. Two shabby, squeaking benches, one behind the other, was the space that metamorphosed our experiences from the general to the distinctive. From sharing lunchboxes to sharing lives, all extempores coagulated to form that envious rainbow, which, sadly enough, disappeared once the conducive conditions were lost. Hardly did we realise how time raced us through its course as we shifted from pulling each other’s legs, mimicking teachers, enjoying moments of unadulterated fun to writing absurdities and absolutes in our precious slam books. Sparks produced sparkles, and once in a while, we paused, pondered and decided to proceed….We ventured to discuss and disclose the quotidian tale