Behold

The eyes know. They have seen them all. They have said it all.
They have a mind of their own. They are worse than the heart.
Culprits, they don't let you hide, they tell no lies.
You are defeated, betrayed, by your eyes.

Yet another day!

For Zaara who always kissed her mom and dad goodnight,
For Yamini who shared her father's bed so he wouldn't go near her paralysed mother,
For Xena who led her daughter down the aisle,
For Wahida who uses the weighing scale as a footstool in her loo,
For Vanitha who bit into her shoulder when the cop marauded her body, so her man could flee,
For Urmila who got through school and college cleaning floors,
For Thangam who hopes for a baby girl so she can finally have a doll,
For Sunaina who writes 'erotic literature' for her girlfriends,
For Rose who likes a good butt on a man,
For Qismat who thinks pink colour sucks,
For Palak who has a crush on her brother's girlfriend,
For Ofelia who runs into her mother's arms after school every evening,
For Nisha who longs for yet another glimpse of her neighbour's hot son,
For Meena who does not miss karate even during her periods,
For Lekha who wakes up every morning with heavy make-up on so her little ones don't notice the fingerprints on her face,
For Kanchan who likes to roughhouse with her girls,
For Jessy who took her uncle to court for molesting her,
For Indu who carries pepper spray in her hand-bag,
For Harshita who likes roti with manchurian gravy,
For Gayatri who is the life of every party,
For Fathima who went as her twin to the driving test,
For Eva who loves to do it on the dining table,
For Donna who hopes the boyfriend will remember the anniversary this year,
For Chanda who eats from her husband's plate,
For Bani who is yet to be kissed
And for Arunima who refuses to give up even as her mind and body desert her.
For all the women we are...

ON WOMEN'S DAY

Scent of a (child) woman

She leaned against him, her tiny frame cuddled in his youthful masculinity. He ran his rough fingers gently up and down her silken arms coaxing her to sleep. She keenly followed his every word as he spun yarns to keep her by his side. She broke into tiny bursts of laughter as his fingertips fondled the smooth inners of her warm armpits. She playfully pushed his strong hands away. They returned, this time resting on her naked thigh. He bided his time, stroking her slender girlish legs. She was in a tizzy. His stories amused her, but his roving hands titillated her no end. Even as she glided between sleep and wakefulness, little ants slowly inched their way up the soft insides of her thighs. She shuddered. His fingers gently stroked the cotton covering her soft mound. She pulled up her legs in protest. He quietly retreated and began anew another tale. She smiled. With every word, his hands firmly closed the distance between his desire and her innocence. She held back, not wanting the story to end. His fingers found home. Deftly, he slided his big hand under the thick band of her knickers. She sucked in. He slowly lowered his palm over her warmth. He touched, stroked, probed her. Not satisfied, he tried to finger his way in. She winced and shoved his hands aside with all the might her 7-year-old body could summon. She looked at him, her eyes filled with annoyance. He smiled at her and sniffed his fingers.

Random sigh-ing

Two years at the great ‘Symbi’ and I have longed for a ‘warning letter’ or a ‘sought explanation’. Well, the latter did happen, but it was for a ‘good cause’ we gave a fight for, rather than any misdeed on my part. So, it wasn’t as ‘thrilling’ as being issued a ‘warning letter.’

Now hardly two months into work, and I have been asked to give a ‘written explanation’ for an oversight of mine that lead to a language/grammatical error in a copy I was responsible for. Well, well, some progress since college days, I must say. One of those moments that you will, not cherish exactly, but remember for a long time. Sigh!

I quite deserve the reproach, in this case. Ouch, that hurts.

Love in Lavale

The girls call me a hopeless romantic, but heavens help me, if I inhabit a land where the sunrays break through my windows to kiss me good morning, where the sparkling blue waters envelope me in a bear hug as I gingerly step into the swimming pool, and where the cool evening breeze plays naughty with my chandelier earrings as I stroll down the winding paths.

The haughty city girl in me never thought that ‘gram Lavale’ would one day feature in my random everyday musings. Spread over 300-acres, the Lavale campus with its Buddhist-style pagoda and open air amphitheatre are all the tonic, a stressed-out Symbian needs at the end of a long day. And that’s not all. While some hang out near the man-made pond (in fond terms, the frog pond!) sipping frothy coffee, others like to lounge in the spacious Symbi canteen. Groups of people trailing down this hill for night walks is a common enough sight here. And no, we are not just talking about your average nature-enthusiasts.

And as yet another day comes to an end, I retire with a sigh. Pulling back the curtains, I gaze at the silvery slice in the velvety sky. Did I just spot someone winking at me from up above? Or are the stars trying to tell me something?

Yes, JOURNALIST.

MURDER. No clues, no suspects, all four gone in a single stroke.

Would have normally invoked shock and terror; and set off thoughts on the state of affairs in the world, growing intolerance, need for love and understanding. Not this time. The news was pronounced to me like a sentence and I had no escape. I was there to do my job; and fulfill it to the best extend possible, I must.

Calls were made to the law enforcers. My identity deemed that I be paid respect. I asked and received much more than expected. Neither did they know this was my first, nor did i try to hide it. I guess, the simple fact of my "necessary evil" kinda existence in society brings with it certain powers. The boss however pointed out flaws and a great learning it turned out to be. I knew I was right in having decided to come here.

At the end, I was surprised at my own lack of emotion. I was completely antiseptic to the turn of events. And to think I am not even a few months old here. Professional hazard, they call it. I pray it doesn't rob my soul.

My Dad agrees too - "Girls just wanna have fun!"

(My personalised version of Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls just wanna have fun')

I stay up late at night,
My father says "When you gonna live your life right?"
Oh, daddy, dear
We're not the naughty ones,
And we won’t let you down,
But girls, just wanna have some fun,
Read a book, or watch a flick, and slip into slumber, curled up on the couch,
Oh, girls just wanna have some innocent fun.

The phone rings in the middle of the night,
My father yells "What you gonna do with your life?"
Oh, daddy dear,
You know you're still number one,
And there’s no boy in my life yet,
Oh, girls, just wanna have some innocent fun.
That's all they really want,
When the working day is done,
Girls just wanna have fun.

Some boys take a beautiful girl,
And ask to be compensated with cars and cash, or gold and gifts,
I am not a ‘Buy One, Get One Free’ product,
I wanna be the one to walk in the sun with my head held high.
So, daddy please, believe in me,
And don’t care about a society that can’t respect or understand me.

Girls just wanna have fun,That's all they really want,
Before the sun sets on a short life, full of responsibilities and worries,
Girls just wanna have some fun.
******************************

I sent these verses to my "super dude Dad", and he responded with a "God bless you, my super cool daughter." Awwww.....