Freshen the Daily Drama Around You

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any incidences mentioned here is highly coincidental and is for pure fun purpose.

Taunt is for Mother-in-laws

Class is for Daughter-in-laws

There would have come plenty of times in your married life where your mother-in-law had said something to you which you had not liked it. Be it for the choice of words or the tone or for that matter the situation or the surroundings we are in. She would have simply ignored all of that and have uttered some of the choicest of the words to you.

Source: memecrunch.com

Without any doubts the mother-in-law would have felt like a HULK, and you, on the contrary would have felt like a drenched cat, unable to do anything, forget even batting an eyelid. Probably, even if you would have tried to open your mouth to counter her, you would have met with eyes that were brightening and getting larger in size slowly and steadily, till it had turned red and signalling to shut up with the undertone that 'I don't care what do you have to say.'

Sulking is for the nineteenth century women. You are the 21st century woman who knows the difference between right and wrong and also knows to control the tongue and allows her actions to speak volumes for herself. So what do you do? I'll tell you.

Whenever such times had come in my life, I had always tried to put on the brave front and hang a smiling face around everyone. It does two things, first, it will allow you to calm down from outside and release any bad thoughts and sad emotions. Secondly, it will show that nothing is going to affect you. But, this will only work when you are correct, otherwise it will show as arrogance.

Source: fotolia

However, all these things will only provide a momentary relief. On one such day when I was generally down, feeling a bit low after entire day's household work, extremely tired and lacking energy after getting some below the belt from the mother-in-law, I only craved for a long and tight sleep. Instead, I happen to switch on the TV and started surfing the channels and that is when I started regaining my energy.

Alla Arjun, the famous Telugu movie star was grooving on the screen with some extraordinary moves that simply left me awestruck. I slowly caught up with some of the moves, started to loosen up and let my hair down completely. Although exhausted, I felt that I had immense strength within myself to start preparing the menu for the next day. 

Suddenly, Alla Arjun disappeared from the screen and it was Anushka Manchanda, singing one of the most happening and peppiest number from a Hindi movie. The voice was so inviting that I decided that I need a second dose of dance and started showing my moves to no one in particular but to myself, as I was alone at home.

I could imagine the magic that would have been created if both Alla Arjun and Anushka Manchanda came together for a song and what would it be like. I guess it would be nothing short of extraordinary, mind-blowing, brilliant singing and dancing performance that would have made even a non-dancer like my husband to start grooving.

Later that evening, the door bell rang, I took him inside and started dancing with him as he was pleasantly surprised. Later on he asked, "Baby, a couple of hours ago you had messaged me you were feeling a bit low and would like to sleep early. What happened now?"

I winked at him, gave him a wicked smile and muttered, "Some things are better left unsaid" and gave him a kiss to be remembered for a long long time.

Source: rantsfrommommyland.com

So next time, when you are having a tough time "for reasons best known only to you", you know what to do. Just energize your tough situation with some exhilarating moves of Alla Arjun and some peppy and youthful voice of Anushka Manchanda and groove and let all the troubles out of your system.

Also, always remember, 

"Taunt is for mother-in-laws and

Class is for daughter-in-laws"

“I am blogging for #MaxFreshMove activity atBlogAdda.com. Are you?

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The Wilted Love

He leafed through the stack of pages with an eye of intent on them, standing across the balcony early morning. Just then his eyes fell on a pot that had been hanging from one of the walls of the balcony. 

For a moment he felt a tinge of sparkle gleaming on one of the leaves of the plant as a soft breeze made the leaves to shiver and wave a quick 'good morning' to him. 'Must be early morning dew', he thought and smiled in reply.

Moving closer, he looked at the plant with a bit more intent and felt that they had a strong desire for some sunshine after some extreme chilly and windy days as well as nights. It was winters. 

Just then his insides churned as he realized that he had been holding the torn pages for quite some time. He lay his eyes upon them and kept it fixated upon it, shuffling from one page to another. After a while, with a bit of stoic expression on his face, he took the pot in his hands and ran outside in search of some sunshine. Luckily, he did find some place where the early morning sun-rays were warming the earth and immediately placed the plant below.

"I'll not let you wilt", he said with teary eyes unable to control his emotions as he sought joy through pain.

"Just as you left your relationship to wilt", accused the love letters with an air of disdain evident in their ink, that he had held all the while in his hands. 

This post is written for Three Word Wednesday

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Game of Blogs - Round 2

BlogAdda’s newest initiative is to #CelebrateBlogging with a series of contests, starting with one called a Game of Blogs. Teams of bloggers take turns creating a round robin story of sorts that they post to their individual blogs.

Team Blogsters

Tara came out of the editorial meet with a sullen face but a throbbing heart. She was angry that Anshuman simply could not let her concentrate on the things that help her earn money. Rather he was busy eyeing her with passion that was as deep as the sea and making suggestive faces that made her heart race and her lips to quiver.

Anshuman who promptly followed her, stopped her midway, and raised his brow with a mute what.

“As if you don’t know, Anshuman”, replied Tara looking straight into his eyes.

“If I cannot flirt with my soon-to-be-wife, then with whom I can flirt, Miss Bunny?”

“You’re impossible.” Tara shook her head, gave a swooning little smile.

“See you soon”, she winked at him and left towards the parking lot.

Work had taken a lot of her young and happy days as she had completely forgotten to live her life and enjoy it to the fullest. In fact she got so embroiled in her work that sometimes she would spent sleepless nights at her office cubicle and sometimes she would just doze off at her office’s guest room. Work for her had become her medicine, medicine for her past, her once upon a time husband Shekhar and her lovely daughter Roohi. If something that could stop her thoughts meandering across to Roohi and her whereabouts that would be simply her work and God send Anshuman.

Anshuman’s company had become a home for Tara. She never felt that comfortable in Anuhuman’s company as she felt now. That one night stand had worked as a miracle for her. After an initial guilty feeling, it had changed their relationship forever and for good.

She felt a sense of relaxation, a sense of oneness when Anshuman is around. Though she felt like detesting his flirting habits every now and then but at the same time she also felt important, that someone is there who cares about her, who lovers her. Her heart ached for his closeness, for his smell, for his weird sense of humor, for the way he cared and for everything that was Anshuman when he wasn’t near her.

Read the previous part of the story here

Read the next part of the story here.

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Game of Blogs

BlogAdda’s newest initiative is to #CelebrateBlogging with a series of contests, starting with one called a Game of Blogs. Teams of bloggers take turns creating a round robin story of sorts that they post to their individual blogs.

Team Blogsters

Chapter 6

The atrium had been flooded with people exchanging greetings, sharing some laughs, chatting animatedly and making the most of the perfect chance to enjoy some cosy moments under the dimly lit hall. Glasses had been overflowing with various alcoholic drinks making everybody tipsy. It had been one of the most prestigious annual parties in the town, organized in a five star hotel, with guests from various hues and shades of life attending the two day affair. From employees of the company to famous personalities to the who’s who of the ever expanding Bollywood industry, it had been a gala night that would stretch on till the wee hours of the morning.

The click-clack of her high heels gave him a dash of excitement which was quite evident on his wide, oblong face.

There he was, standing six feet tall, wide eyes, jaws detailing his contours with a neatly done beard. His crisp white party shirt detailed his brawny physique, with chiselled muscles threatening to bulge out anytime from his flexed arm that rested on the sides of the serving table near the bar.

He raised his right hand, waved at her and gave her a sexy smile while spilling some of the drink onto the floor. 

“Hey, Bun-ny! You are looking as ravishing as a star in the night sky”, said Anshuman with a hug.

Tara chuckled and thanked him for the compliment.

“Stop calling me ‘bunny’. I’m Tara.” She smirked. “Or else I’ll have to start calling you ‘Dosa’.”

“I am not as ardent a lover of dosas as you are of buns,” retorted Anshuman, with a wink of his eye.

“Oh, Ansuhuman! You really come across as a breather for me, always relieving me from office tension and work pressure,” Tara said with a smile. Thanks for being there, Anushuman, she thought.

“There is a thing called sex which can also help in relieving your tensions and worries,” Anshuman said, with a wicked smile on his face.

“You are impossible, Anshuman!” cooed Tara with a shake of her head. Sex, with Anshuman? Of course he was attractive, but Anshuman was her colleague. And she was married.

Tara asked the bartender for her usual Cosmopolitan, excused herself and started mingling with the other colleagues and personalities present at the event.

The night dawned with them letting their hair down, dancing to the alternate tunes of soft and metal with the majority of them highly inebriated. It was almost the wee hours of the morning that the party wounded up with everyone almost falling over each other, helping  each other to their rooms.

“See you at the awards function,” said one of the Tara’s female colleagues as she exited the lift with a wave of her hand. Tara ignored her and continued walking in the opposite direction, taking the support of the wall. She took small measured footsteps towards her room which was at the far end of the corridor.

The grapevine had already pitted Tara’s enemy to receive the most prestigious award of ‘The Best Employee’.  The news had made her livid. But nothing was for sure until the award had been handed out. Such was the secrecy that the company maintained. Hearing the rumor was one thing, but Tara just could not handle everyone going gaga over the supposed winner. She had worked hard the entire year, giving more than her sweat and blood and she was right in thinking that she deserved this award more than anyone else.

Upon reaching her room, she swiped her keycard, entered and shut the door behind her. The room was dark. The lights failed to brighten the room as they usually do when one puts the card in the card holder.

She removed and inserted the card again. But darkness reigned.

She was about to open the door and ask for some assistance when someone from behind pulled her into his arms and forced his lips onto hers, pushing away the lock of hair that fell on her cheeks courtesy her short hairstyle. With a scream, she pulled away.

“It’s only me,” came the husky voice, and Tara shuddered.

“Anshuman! You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, turning on the lights now. He didn’t look so sorry. He looked sexy, standing there all disheveled, with his hair mussed and her lipstick on him.

“What—” she began, and then shrugged helplessly.

“Come on, Tara,” Anshuman said, taking a step closer. “We both knew this would happen eventually. We both knew it was only a matter of time before we gave in to what we both feel.”

And then he was kissing her again. And this time, before she could figure out what was happening, Tara was kissing him back.

After a while, she came back to her senses, and pushed him away.

"No, this isn't the right thing to do! God will never forgive us. Don’t you know I'm married?!" Tara said in a trembling voice. Her worst fears were coming true.

"I know you are married, Tara darling, but that man Shekhar doesn’t stand a chance with a beautiful girl like you."

Before Tara could say anything, he continued, "Look at you, Tara! You are not just beautiful but much more than just that. You could every Bollywood actress a run for her money! Why are wasting your time with a bald—"

Tara cut him off, he may be speaking the truth but this was her personal life. No one has the liberty to speak about her or her married life. 

“Listen here—” she began, but this time, he was the one who cut her off.

"You can't deny the truth, Tara," he said and sealed her mouth with a kiss.

The kiss was less passionate and more out of need. She wasn't sure whether to play along or stop it. His lips softened in their force as she pulled him closer, and the kiss became gentler, more passionate. Slowly they removed the burden of clothes as passionately as it can be done.

Tara seemed to be as hungry as ever as she pushed him against the wall and started biting his lips, cheeks and neck frantically. Their bodies were pressed against each other as their tongues continued exploring within. Tension had risen. It was only a matter of time that they got rid of their clothes and in a sudden surge he started frantically kissing Tara wherever he found her soul.

Tara placed her hand below, between his thighs and started caressing while he had his fingers playing into her insides. She let out a soft moan. Turning her around he cupped her from behind feeling the soft flesh in his hands as he delicately bit the area around the nape of her neck. Tara, all of a sudden, turned to face him and reached for his shaft, feeling it to be as strong as steel.

She feasted as he begged her to stop. Anshuman groaned while she pushed him over to the bed. They rolled over, with Tara lying on her back and Anshuman on top of her, driving himself into her. Thrust after thrust. Deeper and deeper. Pure ecstasy.

Spent, they laid back on the bed.

The sun shining through the soft curtains made Tara open her eyes, with a mild headache troubling her. As the memories of the night before returned, she felt her heart sink, and then die a slow death. She was completely naked in the bed, only covered with a thin sheet of duvet.

A sense of realization dawned upon her with the rising sun with no one to be found in her room.

She couldn’t believe herself. “I slept with Anshuman,” she gasped. Hearing the words out loud still didn’t make it seem real. Trembling, she picked up the thank you note placed on the nightstand.

The rest of the day, Tara had avoided Anshuman like the plague, dodging all his attempts at conversation—and worse, at a repeat of the night before.

That evening had been a mixed one for her.  On the one hand she had committed a big mistake, and on the other, contrary to the grapevine she’d won the coveted ‘Best Employee’ award.

She hadn’t known how to react as she’d spent the night behind closed doors with her trophy and lots of questions to accompany her. Afterwards, she’d tried her best to forget the night, going back to treating Anshuman as nothing more than a colleague, but it was as if Shekar had sensed her transgression somehow. He’d become more controlling, more jealous, and they’d fought more and more, until finally, she’d ended up calling Cyrus, her brother’s best friend—and prominent divorce lawyer.

And now, here she was, three years later, with a few more trophies lining her shelves, but the best thing in her life—her daughter, her Roohi—was gone.

Tara would trade every single one of those shiny, stupid trophies for her daughter in a heartbeat.

Read the previous part of the story i.e. chapter 5 here
Read the next part of the story i.e.chapter 7 here

“Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

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The Game

‘Are you ready for it, COAS’, asked the Prime Minister.

‘Yes Sir’. Pat came the reply in his trademark hoarse voice.  

‘Very well, then. Let the action begin sharp at 0000 hours’, whispered the PM as they shook hands. The COAS marched back to his base with a renewed sense of vigour and a gleam in his eyes.

Wasting no time, he ordered the movement of the troops.

‘Politics can make one do things one has never dreamt of. And of course there is money – huge money as a motivational factor.’ He sighed and left a sinister laugh which echoed for minutes inside his closed chamber.

‘A military coup has been attempted and all the national leaders of the ruling and opposition parties are under house arrest including the PM’- read the television headline, the next morning.

Baffled at the turn of events, the PM called the COAS after finding army men with guns, surrounding his government bungalow. ‘What the hell is this? ‘I had asked you to only take the leader of opposition under house arrest and you took the entire country under house arrest? PM blurted out in astonishment.

The COAS replied calmly to his anguish. ‘I don’t understand the language of politics. I only understand the language of money. You offered me 100 crores to take the leader of opposition out whereas the leader of opposition offered me 150 crores to take you out. And mind you it is me who leaked out the secret to the opposition.’

‘I trusted you the most, COAS. What about our talks of being the best buddies, sharing each and every damn thing, be it personal or professional since our college days?

‘The people of India have trusted you the most and hence elected your government to rule this country and you are making a mockery of it’, said the COAS in his most menacing tone his friend has ever heard and went off the line.

The news channels went bonkers with the sudden turn of events highlighting the COAS and his address to the nation, the pros, and cons of a democracy versus a military ruled state and the future of this country.

The following night was the night of reckoning. It came to the intelligence notice a month back about a movement in a terrorist module along the LOC. But when the encrypted code was decoded and studied meticulously the army was left red faced. It was the time to have a final laugh.

The secret attack that the enemy had planned and almost executed to perfection was foiled at the last minute. Fighter jets attacked from the dusk leaving no trace of the enemy.

‘Welcome Ajay’. The PM greeted the COAS with a huge victorious smile on his face as he handed him a drink. ‘So, what next after retirement or should I say after you’re court marshalled ’?

‘Probably your back door strategist.’  He replied with a wide grin on his face. The only solace being,the secret remained within the four corners of the wall.

‘There is politics anywhere and everywhere and then there are some who rise above politics and greed for the betterment of the nation.’

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

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The Night After The Storm

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 45; the forty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The gale had slowed after what seemed like eternity. The entire surrounding was filled with dust that flew from faraway places with trees swaying dangerously, windows and doors banging, bringing the entire traffic to a halt.

On the contrary to the mayhem outside the inside was pretty serene with just the two sipping late night coffee. He was admirably dressed in an evening robe and she was looking like a seductress in her black camisole.

Seated across the table both the two were oblivious to the mayhem outside. Words had become superfluous as eyes did all the talking. Both continued to stare at eachother without even blinking an eyelid. Such was their ardour for eachother that lifting the coffee mug, sipping and putting it back on the table became mechanical. They only concentrated upon eachother.

While they kept holding eachother’s gaze, their feet began a furtive flirtatious caressing. Just a touch of his feet was enough to arouse her, arouse her in a way that no one could have ever. Her pulsating face became a dash of glowing emerald that left a wickedly sheepish smile.

‘Thinking of me honey?’ asked a playful Aban coming from behind and placing his mug of coffee on the table. But she didn’t reply. A pat on her back brought her back from her trance.

Aban placed the chair opposite to hers and sat. Coming straight from the shower he was dressed in an evening robe without even scrubbing his body. His damp hair and body left a cast on her as her heart skipped a beat.

Silence reigned.

Words became superfluous as eyes did all the talking. Both continued to stare at eachother without even blinking an eyelid. Such was their ardour for eachother that lifting the coffee mug, sipping and putting it back on the table became mechanical. They only concentrated upon eachother.

Things were happening exactly similar to what she was dreaming off and she did realize it.

‘Aha.. my sixth sense is working’! She exclaimed to herself with caution enough to suppress her excitement as she had not revealed it to Aban about her talent.

But her naughty mind decided to test her talent further.

She continued to stare at him without blinking her eyelids for that perfect concentration to know his next move.

But little did she know that even Aban was equal to her task as he acted in exactly similar way in which her sixth sense told her. You can term it as God’s gift for his impeccable understanding of his wife and her thought process or probably selfless and eternal love for his wife. Whatever it is, Aban certainly made sure that her so called sixth sense never failed.

Without wasting any time Aban rose from his chair, came closer to her and with a glee on his face said,’ Are you ready for the storm darling?’

***

There are stories and then there are love stories. There are love stories and then there are special love stories. As it is rightly said “Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.

Aban and Ada’s Love story is the special one where there is selfless love for eachother.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 06

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Truly Alive

Do I need to make them feel alive? Indeed. If I don’t, wouldn't they feel awful?

Truly Alive
Source: Google

Life had nothing to offer. Love had died aeons ago. Feelings and emotions were trampled and buried deep into insides of his heart. Only thing that was left to him was his intellect which allowed him to amass riches.

And it had started working instinctively. Outlining his master-plan with a profuse care not to get caught again, he scripted his escape route, opening the horizons of the world to be conquered.

I've arrived to strike again! He chuckled igniting their 'feeling alive' chase again.

This post is a part of 100 Words On Saturday conducted by Write Tribe. The prompt being 'Truly Alive.' 

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Courageous

Tossing the coin of my dreams, my intellect trundled only to realize that it will be wild to help myself in such a fashion. Looking upon the calendar, noticing the date and arming myself with a spotless and tidy postcard, I decided to inscribe.

Few years later

“Dear Samar,

Eloping with you was my naivety. Marrying you was my Love for you. With you, life was nothing less than a sugar coated pill till you betrayed. Earth shook beneath my feet. All the sugar had vanished from my life. Life had festered. Until I decided to voice my feelings. I feel much better now. I am able to breathe, to live again. It is believed that all the good things happen after some struggle and fight. So thank you for allowing me to struggle and fight my intellect now that you have gone.

Love .

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued to feel the pain reading it for the umpteenth time. Leaving it aside for the first time, he laid his hands on the book titled ‘Responsibility Towards.’

He went straight to the acknowledgement page to find it and there it was etched in bold letters.

Pic Courtesy: Google

My sincere thanks to Samar....

His already moist eyes gave away upon reading it as he struggled for his last breath.

This post is in response to a contest hosted at WriteTribe. 

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Case no. 484

Door bell rang. A tall man wearing a leather jacket with his face covered with a hood stood in front of him when he opened the door. He smiled upon seeing him, shook hands and welcomed him in.

‘How are you, sir’? Danny enquired as the words automatically slipped out of his mouth.

He raised his eyebrow in reply to his question.

Err... sorry sir. Danny corrected himself and said, ‘How are you Mr. Reclusive Billionaire?’

‘Fine, as always’, he replied.

With a smile, Danny handed him a briefcase stashed with money along with a small metal box which seemed old but able to hold the necessary. ‘A small gift from the team who is minting money like never before and it is all because of you’, his beaming face said.

‘Blue! Wow! This is spectacular and rare’! A pleasantly surprised look adorned his face upon opening the box. He kept on admiring those beautiful blue eyes which were once a path finder seeking vision for that mute but lethal animal called Tiger. To be precise a White Tiger. After a while he kept the briefcase and the box inside the closet ensuring that it is locked properly from outside.

The next morning he was fuming upon reading the headlines. “A dead tiger found”, “Business of skins”, ‘This has to be stopped. How can one behave in such an inhuman way? Bloody rascals. One day they will even sell themselves for that crisp bundle of currency!’ he screeched. Clenching his fist in rage he slammed it on the breakfast table. The impact was such that the table broke one of its legs. Yes, such was his muscular strength, inspite of him leaving the army many years ago. He decided to take the matters in his own hands and planned to put an end to this organised crime.

He searched for similar kind of news, flipping pages of past news papers, cutting out those articles and pinned it on the planning board in a proper sequence. Several paper cuttings eventually hung from the planning board. Using his strength of analyzing the clues from the dates, places and names of accused involved, from numerous calls to various people, from getting the images of the accused from the internet and various sources, he came to a conclusion and decided to eliminate that strong and only link between the supplier and buyer. Ordinary people can go wrong on this but not him. Yes, this was ‘The Analysis Man’ analyzing, a tag given when he used to work for the army.

For the next few days he investigated the middleman’s daily routine and noticed one similarity. He was frequent at a night club. ‘This is the perfect opportunity to nail that bastard. Your time is up, Mr Sheru’, he grunted with a smug smile on his face.

The next evening he skimmed one of his favourite verses before executing the planned action to push away doubts that had tugged in his minds.

Karmanye vaadhikaarasthay maa phaleshu kadachana, maa karma-phala-hetur bhur ma ate sangho ‘stv akarmaani.’

After receiving the final confirmation from his informer, he left for the night club.

In the back of his mind he knew that finding and killing Sheru will not be enough as they will be back to business with a new middleman in a short span of time. But so be it. It’s time to instill fear in them and then plan things accordingly.

There wasn't a tinge of fear on his face as he was confident of his analysis. Armed with a tiny syringe, placed carefully under the heaps of clothes hanging from his body, he managed to enter the night club with ease. He straight away went to the bar, took his seat and ordered a drink. He screened the place. People of various ages and shapes burnt the dance floor - Some young and some pretending to be young. Some swaying their hips whereas some enjoying the eye’s gape. From locals to foreigners, everyone was busy with dance and drink.

He noticed Sheru among his group of friends shouting and dancing. He waited and studied his movements before advancing towards him.

First he went towards the washroom and made himself ready for the attack. Sheru’s group was in direct vision from where the washroom was located and he could see Sheru clearly from here. He gave a final glance to his weapon and placed it in the inner pocket of his jacket which he had left open. Thus making it easy to fetch and attack. He looked towards Sheru, paced his footsteps in sync with his movements and jockeyed his approach. His hands slowly moving towards the inner pocket of his jacket. Nearing Sheru, he then pretended to jolt forward as though he had been pushed from behind and slammed into him. Sheru was about to fall from the push just then he held him to gather and with his right hand jabbed the needle forward passing through his shirt with ease. He depressed the plunger, shooting the contents of vial into Sheru.

With such a loud noise blasting through the roof and Sheru busy dancing, it was difficult for him to feel the needle prick.

‘Sorry’, he said to Sheru and went ahead dancing and singing towards the exit. ‘It’s fine’, he replied and continued dancing not knowing that the deadly chemical injected into him will take effect in next ten minutes. Sheru’s end was nigh.

Next day the headline read, “Sheru, the middleman found dead. Lots of animal skins have been recovered from his place.”

Few days later, after thorough investigation the team of local police and officers from various agencies busted the gang of operatives smuggling illegal tiger skins to various countries. Thus putting an end to this organised crime.

‘Finally, it’s all over’, he heaved a sigh of relief and continued ‘What was started by me – a reclusive self appointed vigilante is complete now.

Few months later a team of policemen stood in front of his bungalow with a search warrant.

They were searching for that old metal box which can finally nail the kingpin of this racket. It was kept as a public secret so that the kingpin is not cautioned and allowed to flee the country. And hence the series of news reports claiming an end to this but it actually wasn’t. They played smart.

With meticulous interrogation of all those guilty, they came to a conclusion that Danny had left a metal box with some retired army official. After searching many homes they were finally standing at Ret. Maj. Nachapoku’s place.

Baffled and left insulted Maj. allowed his bungalow to be searched, a palatial place for a retired army man.

Few hours of searching found Maj. in a soup when they recovered huge sums of money and that old metal box. He pleaded to be ignorant about it, boasted about his successes and laurels he earned when he served army but to no avail. He was immediately taken into custody for further interrogation.

The interrogation was one sided as he didn't reveal much but the search of his bungalow led to further evidences against him. Apart from that they also recovered his medical file which stated an alarming fact.

It read...

Case no. 484: Maj. Nachapoku is suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), dated 10 years ago.

The medical records detail that once fighting against the infiltrators in a land surrounded by wild animals Maj. was attacked by a tiger from rear but bravely fought the animal and killed it before the animal could kill him. In the skirmish his left leg got badly injured which eventually had to be amputated and in the due course was replaced by Jaipur Foot.

This incident took a beating on his agility severely and was asked to take a voluntary retirement from the army. Though he was offered a desk job but he had promptly declined the offer. It was not him but his ego talking. Once the bright star of the Army, now thrown and abandoned just because he couldn't run and fight the enemy.

Dissociative Identity Disorder

He went through the roof following the outcome of events. Seething with rage, he was looking for vengeance to calm his inner self. Tiger being the prime reason for his present state, he formed a team of people and ordered them to kill tigers. But later got in contact with wrong people and eventually resulting in smuggling of animal skins.

But how can a man of principles and discipline do that? His heart and mind were at loggerheads. Heart pleading to forgive but mind adamant for retribution. Thus resulting in DID.

“Sir, with your permission can we take him for further diagnosis and treatment”, asked Priyal and the officer replied affirmatively. 

This post is written as a part of the topics shared for Indian Bloggers League organised by Writeup cafe

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Destiny's Child

Darkness was dancing in the corners of my vision. Wind was whipping my hair. Cold was coaxing its way into the breeze. Tears were pooling in my eyes. Pebbles were slipping into my thin slippers and adding a sharp pain to my feet.  The open sky, bushes and mountains were my only solace. With no energy in my limbs, I settled under a tree surrounded by the hilly terrain, sans the nightmares but with my soul beating.

I kept gazing at the moon admiring its beauty. ‘Ridden with potholes, it is still an eye-catcher’, I thought. It was serene with just whistling of winds and the sound of leaves enjoying the wind reaching through my ears. Blurred images of lights were seen emanating faraway from here. My eyes were equally tired just as my limbs. All I wanted was a peaceful sleep, which is something that I got easily although after years.

I woke up to the melodious chirping of the birds. Even the caw-caw of the crow felt music to ears. I stretched my arms with a tinge of smile on my face. The expression that was dead suddenly became alive. My back ached and I still felt the burning sensation of ‘hurt’ that has decided to dwell on me. Amid the warmth of early morning sun with hunger pangs signalling my brain, I wandered in search of food.

The terrain proved to be a real tough one for me. I walked and walked with beads of perspiration forming all over my body. I picked up pace. Many trees with various fruits hanging passed by. I didn't know where I was heading but wherever I could find my way through the trees and the mountains. Slowly, I found myself running. I could hear the crushing sound of dead leaves following me. I feared looking back. Suddenly the sound was gone. I still feared looking behind but tried to swirl around quickly and have a look. No one was there. I stood there, circling and looking in all directions. Satisfied, I lay under one of the trees, plucked some fruits and heaved a sigh of relief.

The rest of the day went smoothly without any troubles.

The next morning same thing happened. I ran and ran, more than yesterday. My slippers had given away and so had my toes and limbs. It was getting extremely difficult now. I was panting heavily but still continued running. Finally with no energy left, I fainted.

My eyes opened to see an old fan rotating and screeching in between. I turned my neck only to find myself attached with wires and surrounded with machines. It dawned on me that I was in some nursing home.

‘How are you madam’? The nurse asked.

I was confused with volley of questions popping in my mind.

My silence made her to say that my husband brought me here. Panic gripped me from within but I didn't allow it to show on my face. She asked me to lay here till she called for my husband.

For a moment I thought of running away but couldn't due to wires attached all over me. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to give me enough strength to fight against all odds. ‘This cannot happen to me. From being so close of acquiring freedom and yet far’, I said to myself. I decided to tell the nurse to call the police and tell them everything.

A tall, well built man with a moustache stood along with the nurse in front of me.

‘This is not him!’ My eyes went bigger in shock. He came besides me, ran his hand over my forehead and inquired about my health.

Tears rolled down my eyes as he helped me to get up. I kept silent. No one has shown such affection towards me in recent times. Was I dreaming?  

With apprehensions and questions galore I walked with him. He took me to his home but for me it seemed like a palace. Small, clean and elegant. He offered a chair to sit and went inside only to come out within few minutes with a tray full of biscuits and tea. Before I could attack him with my questions, he did.

A lot of things were there inside waiting to be released. Initially I thought of concentrating on biscuits but with his constant prodding I broke.

It all started two years back when I got married. Once a darling of my parents’ eye now reduced to a slut. Such was the tragedy of my life. From getting married to a stranger, on being a ‘display item’ to his friends, to being labelled as a town whore, I had come a long way, quite literally - To the ever so beautiful, never seen, other end of the universe.

“Everything looks beautiful to a person whose life is only confined to be at home, cook and ‘entertain’ people. From being a caged bird, I felt like a free bird here.”

Sometimes from his harsh words, beating or slapping, my soul died a slow death. His words, ‘Hadn't your parents greased my palms, I would have married someone whose face didn't resemble that of a coal, and body, a bag of bones’, pierced me in such a way as if a poisonous arrow has pierced through my body. Neither did he like me nor did he love me. I was just a piece of flesh left to be obeyed and served on various beds, satisfying the carnal needs.

Once I had tried to object by raising my voice and he landed a tight slap on my face. The impact was such that my mouth tasted blood as two teeth gave away. I was naive initially waiting for him to embrace me, love me and show some affection but this incident woke me up and I decided to run away from this life as I simply didn't deserve this.

“What is my fault? Just that I am black and not good looking? Or that I expected him to love me just as people do after an arranged marriage? I do obey his commands all against my wishes, treat him respectfully and still? Whatever it is, I cannot let my life get ruined and henceforth will take charge of My Life.”

Thus mustering thrice the amount of courage normally required, I ran away.

With every word and every sentence my heart felt lighter. But tears kept on rolling down my eyes, initially a few drops to sobbing to crying profusely. My already red eyes started hurting me.

My heart experienced the much needed warmth and peace when he wiped my tears away and hugged me. It felt like heaven to be wrapped under the warmth and masculine shoulders of his. He kept patting my back and head as if he is consoling some child. Yes, for a minute even I felt like a child too! Though my looks may not agree with my heart but it will be always a child from within.

Form patting to exploring to kissing to enjoying each other’s naked body, nothing was left. We lay there still for few minutes. Tears started welling in my eyes but I didn't let it flow.

What have I done? Will he just use me as a paper napkin? Will I be back to square one? Will I ever find Love in its pure essence? Questions had taken over my mind when he suddenly came close to me, tugged my soft tendril of curls behind my ears and said, ‘I want to marry you. To see life through your eyes, have kids, share a bond such that even HE wouldn't dare to break and have a new beginning for both of us,  ’

I didn't know whether this was for real or not. Was my life going to take a turn? Will I get to shed those horrendous tags that I have got? Or will it acquire the tag of ‘happily married forever’?

My heart was in my mouth. Unable to judge his intentions but with the anticipation of new dawn I agreed to marry him.

Destiny

In her soft and sleepy voice she said, “Mamma, will you please stop staring at the fan. Your two kids, one of which I call Papa, needs you and are trying to sleep.”

I immediately come back from the shadows of dark and within a second both of them curl up towards me and hugs me tight with smiles all over. Wishing each other good night, I wait with open arms to embrace life to the dawn of happiness and only happiness.

This post has been written for the ongoing Indian Bloggers League conducted by Writeup Cafe

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