Package Delivered

Package Delivered

Package Delivered

Busy with daily blogging and reading schedule, I was engrossed in an interesting article when the calling bell rang. Most irritated I was at that point. It is not often I get free time by myself to write or read in peace these days. No choice but to get up and open the door.

I let the bell ring once more before I looked into the peephole to check who it was that had the audacity to break my reverie. The look of the guy almost scared me. He was standing dangerously close to the door and I could see a good part of his neck and chin. When he moved back I noticed a parcel in his hand.

Curious as I was , especially since it was my birthday, I opened the door with a smile on my face. As soon as he saw me he gave a startled look. I couldn’t figure out what whether he had seen a ghost or whether I had forgotten to wear a top. I turned around to look at my image in the mirror at the hall entrance.

I giggled at the person’s plight. My hair was in a complete disarray, I had a face pack on my face and my glasses were almost falling off my nose. The height of stupidly is what I looked like. The thought that I hadn’t freshened up as yet as I was busy with replying to birthday wishes on my personal and my blogging Facebook accounts , hadn’t crossed my mind before I opened the door!

The situation was beyond repair anyway. So I went ahead and started the conversation.

Me : “Is that for me?”
He : Err… Are you —– ——- ?
Me : No! That is the third door on the right in this side.
He : Err.. Sorry for disturbing you. Thank you!
Me : It’s ok. ( I smile)

I couldn’t control my laughter till I closed the door and burst out laughing to the horror of the poor guy. This is going to be an interesting day for him for sure, I thought. I am sure this was the first door he has knocked on today.

Brushing aside the giggling and the embarrassment of both , looking like a ghost and not actually getting a birthday courier, I went about doing my jobs for the day. A few hours from then, the calling bell rings again. This time I made sure I looked my birthday best before opening the door. And it is a good thing I did. It was my forever complaining forever courier receiving neighbour. Yeah, the one that got a courier gift on MY BIRTHDAY.

She came in and we had a bit of chat. She wished me and went I to the kitchen to get tea and snacks for her. She excused herself during the time and said she will be back in a few minutes. I was back on my sofa with the tea set in front of me waiting for her to return. When she did, there was a box in her hand and a smirk on her face. The same box that was delivered to her in the morning!

I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it when she opened the box. My husband had deliberately planned this. The initial disappointment and then the present happiness. The neighbour and the courier guy were in on this prank. Right then the husband walks in with a bouquet in his hands.

Tring… Tring… Tring.. Huh? What’s ringing now? I open my eyes to the sight of my phone ringing. It was my mom calling to wish me a “Happy Birthday”. Soon after that the alarm goes off too. I woke up to a cool yet bright Birthday morning from a wonderful , non happening but highly pleasing Birthday dream.

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

Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

This time your entry must contain, ‘I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it.’

NaBloPoMo December 2013

Inked Impressions



It was a long day after work when she decided to go for a walk around her building. That was the only form of exercise she managed to squeeze into her busy schedule. Could the impact of such non stop work effect her mind so much? Jaya wondered about this while she was just passing by the security guard, who greeted her with a faint smile. Amar was just settling into his shift by wearing his uniform over his vest. During this process she noticed a tattoo behind his right shoulder.

She had seen that tattoo before! If only she could remember where? Because she was exhausted she decided to let that feeling go. Tattoos are so common these days, anyone could have had that very same design if they had gone to the same shop. After completing her second round around the apartment complex, Jaya headed home.

She filled the tub with warm water and bubbles. She lit some scented candles and placed them on the wash basin. Her playlist had the perfect soothing numbers to go with this relaxing atmosphere. She let the songs play as she left her mobile on the towel rack next to the bath tub.

She undressed and got into the tub, every bit of her relaxing as she entered the warm bath water. She laid down there with her head resting on the brims of the tub and eyes closed, trying to take in the smells and sounds that always managed to soothe her.

Her thoughts drifted away from the events of the day at work and began to relax. Her thoughts were interrupted when the image of the tattoo flashed in front of her eyes all of a sudden. It was a Trishul shaped tattoo and she wondered what about it bothered her so much.

Her friend Rhea’s birthday was round the corner. It was her job to hire a caterer and host the party in her home. Her friends had entrusted her with this responsibility because her apartment had the biggest living room to accommodate all her friends. Her music system was the envy of her friends too. Her parents had gifted it to her when she moved into this apartment.

Jaya wanted to make sure that Rhea had the best birthday ever. Her friend really needed the excitement and change in her life after that incident last month that left her with a scar on her neck. Her gold chain was snatched from her neck while she was descending at the bus stop close to her home. They couldn’t catch hold of the thief. He ran with lightening speed even before she realised what was happening. All she noticed as an identification was that the man was tall, well built, wearing a white vest with a cloth wrapped around his neck and head. Later that day, Rhea gave a sketch to the police of a Trishul with an Om. She said that she noticed this tattoo on the thief’s right shoulder.

Jaya knew she had to go for a stroll around the building one more time tonight. She needed to take a photo. She needed to make sure that her night security guard Amar did not have an interesting day job!

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

Write Over the Weekend theme for this week :

This time your entry must contain, ‘He/She had seen that tattoo before! If only he/she could remember where.’


NaBloPoMo November 2013

Pic Courtesy : Juniortattoobangalore

Love Decline



Love Decline

Love Decline

It wasn’t long before her mother discovered that she was having an affair with someone. The mothers are always the first ones to know. Rashmy’s behaviour had begun to change drastically. Ever since she came back home from her in laws house, she had been under depression. The kind of depression that a broken marriage can bring about is pretty bad. But add to it the fact that it was a love marriage that broke apart, the depression takes in a completely new definition.

Hema was happy to notice the changes in her daughter. After all,she did deserve happiness. The marriage, that lasted for two years, had gifted her daughter with a year old son, a husband who wasn’t worthy of her in the first place and a set of parents in law straight from hell. The idea of staying with Rajesh’s parents was something that Hema was against from the first itself. But she couldn’t tell her daughter to break up the family. That would be considered as bad advice from a mother.

Hema had lost her husband to a car accident when Rashmy was 10 years old. Since then she had tried to be a father and a mother to Rashmy. Hema was always aware of the happenings in her daughter’s life. That is why, when Rashmy confessed of her love for Rajesh and her desire to marry him, she wasn’t surprised at all. It first struck her, when she noticed the smile on Rashmy’s face each time a message or call came to her mobile, that her daughter was in love.

Hema was fond of Rajesh. He was a soft spoken person and was well set in his job. Rashmy and Rajesh worked in the same building and they had met at one of the restaurants during lunch hour. The friendship developed mainly through phone calls and messages. During a Diwali pooja, Hema had asked her daughter to keep the phone aside for a while. It was the day that Rashmy had had a lucky escape, from what could have been a major accident, with just a few bruises. She had crossed the road with her eyes focused on the mobile.

When Hema heard the phone vibrating on the side table , she did not mention it to Rashmy who was engrossed in singing a Bhajan with her cousins and thanking God for her narrow escape. Hema was shaken too by this news and felt a sudden enmity towards her daughter’s phone. She let it ring in silence.

Out of curiousity, Hema checked the screen of the phone after a while. She was shocked to see 38 missed calls in 10 mins! She wondered what was going on. She hurriedly took the phone to her daughter to check if anything serious had come up at work. When Rashmy called back Rajesh with a smile on her face, Hema’s smile widened too. She was happy for her daughter.

Today, during the time that Rashmy was playing with her son after coming back from work, Hema noticed her daughter’s phone lying on the dining table. The phone had just stopped vibrating. On it was an array of Whatsapp and Facebook messages. Modern ways of love were strange, Hema thought.  More messages, more calls, more concern, but nothing guaranteed love in a relationship. ‘Likes’ and ‘Comments’ can be faked, but love cannot. At least , not for long. If only her daughter understood that life was not like Facebook. You cannot undo life’s mistakes after making them. They remain as scars forever.

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

This time your entry must contain, “38 missed calls in 10 mins! He/She wondered what was going on.”

Picture Courtesy : Imgion

NaBloPoMo November 2013

Being watched


God Lamp

It was one of those days when she was busy doing what she always does. It was routine and she had been following it for many years now. She didn’t have a fixed time for the work she does at home. But she always had a set pattern. She would first dust the furniture, wipe the table tops, reset the cushions on the sofa, then set the magazines in order and put everything back into the places they belong. She would then clean the lamp, add in oil, then the wick. She would clean the God’s idol with a cloth and set up two incense sticks onto two separate holders. Next would be the use of matchsticks to light the lamp and the incense sticks. She would then say a silent prayer with her eyes closed for a few minutes.

Soon after this she would call her son to join in the evening prayers. Her 6 year old son, who during this entire time, was busy on his phone playing his favourite game, would come, touch the feet of the idol and hover his hand on the lit lamp and then touch his hand and then his chest. He would then promptly be on the sofa back to his games.

Maya had been ill for a while now. The house was always in a state of gloom. It wouldn’t be long before she has to return to God, she knew. Her son was at her bedside, sitting with a gloomy face. His hands were holding his jaw and his elbows were on his mother’s bed. Seeing her son like that was more saddening to her than her own illness and the gloom of her impending death. She gathered all her energy and got up from bed in preparation to light the lamp once again after almost 4 months.

When she reached the sitting room, she was too tired to stand even. She was on the verge of falling down when her son caught her arm and made her sit on the sofa just like her husband does when she gets tired. She gladly obliged and kissed him on his forehead. He then went about the entire routine just as his mother used to. When the lamp was lit and he had completed his prayer, he came to help her towards the idol. She stood there praying along side her son with tears in her eyes. Her husband joins them too in their prayers that day. The parents realised that day that one thing they didn’t know was that they were being watched at every step. They were instilling their habits into their child even without actually trying to. The family of three would be reduced by one soon. But the love and the understanding they shared in the few short years together, would live on for years.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out creative writing topics each weekend for Indian bloggers.

Write Over the Weekend theme for this week

This time your entry must contain, ‘One thing he/she/they didn’t know that they were being watched.’

Picture Courtesy : WhatMyCameraCaptures


NaBloPoMo November 2013

All in good time


All in good time

All in good time, my mom would say,

Each time I wanted to grow up.
Wear a saree or just a little make up.

All in good time, my dad would say,
When I needed a wallet,
A credit card or a phone.

Where are the marks?
Just second year in college,
All in good time, I just smile away.

Days, months, years go by,
Good times come and go,
These wise words linger on….

All in good time….

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

Picture courtesy :








A Blunder A Day


“And before I knew it, I had hit ‘Send’. How is she going to react?”

Anil had to re-read the mail at least 10 times. He was not sure how the events would unfold. At least there was hope. He hadn’t mentioned any name in the mail. It was a love letter with a lot of endearment terms. It read more like a diary entry. Hope she doesn’t figure out that it was not meant for her. But then, when was the last time he called her any word of endearment. Or for that matter, when was the last time they spoke of anything else other than the children and the mortgages.

The mere act of clicking the send button,had put him in a state of turmoil. He was not ready to face the consequences. He was not in love with his wife, but he was not ready to give up on the marriage yet.He had to think about the children. Thinking about Seema and talking to her always made him feel better. He knew his love for Seema can and will never be accepted ever. Even Seema wasn’t aware of his feelings for her. She was married and had a life of her own. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

Today morning he had a major fight with his wife Maya. He needed to relax himself. So he composed a loving mail to Seema explaining what he was going through. He was typing it under a lot of pressure. But as he typed he realized how he was feeling the calmness take over him. Seema had that effect on him. His finished typing and with a calm mind clicked the send button and instantly felt a sense of relief.

He went back to check why there was no reply. That’s when he realized that he had sent the mail to his wife Maya instead of Seema. In the short time that Anil waited for a response, he imagined varied response scenarios. But he never expected the reply he got back.

“I understand you now sweetheart. I am sorry for what happened in the morning”, Maya wrote. “We have to discuss this and learn to understand each other better. Come home soon today. Love you”.

That’s when Anil realized that he had never given his marriage a chance. He swore to try and work things out with Maya.

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

( This weekend your post should begin with, And before I knew it, I had hit ‘Send’. )

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