Story time with Manju

 It was well past midnight, and I found myself tossing and turning, unable to settle into sleep. No amount of white noise or soothing music from Spotify seemed to help. Instead, an unsettling sound persisted—a slight, rhythmic tapping reminiscent of the noise made when moving a chair or piece of furniture. I got up for what felt like the millionth time to investigate the source, but my efforts proved futile. I opened the blinds, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever might be making the noise outside, yet there was nothing there. My furry companions, Glee and Leia, looked up at me with curious expressions, as if urging me to just go to sleep. Eventually, I succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off, only to awaken groggy and disoriented at the sound of my alarm the next morning. The following night unfolded in a similar fashion. The soft noises resumed after midnight, and again, I found myself wide awake. This unnerving pattern continued night after night, each instance leaving me incr...

  Akanksha came from a modest middle-class background, residing in a traditional Chawl in Mumbai. Her father, Sampat, was a mill worker who had persevered through numerous challenges, while her elder brother Amit juggled his time between working as a salesman in a small garment store and delivering for a food app. Her mother, Madhavi, contributed by stitching sari blouses. Although their lives were hand-to-mouth, they found happiness in their simple existence—except for Akanksha. She harbored big dreams, yearning to break free from the constraints of her ordinary life. Every day, she would eagerly read the Page 3 of the newspaper, fantasizing about entering the glamorous world it depicted. One day at a career fair, Akanksha discovered a bachelor's program in Journalism. However, the steep tuition fees posed a significant barrier for her family. "Dada, could you help me find a way to pay my course fees?" she would plead with Amit. "I promise I'll work hard and bec...

Tried my hand at writing a story for children. The Cloudy Dance Party Once upon a time, high above in the bright blue sky, fluffy white clouds gathered for a dance party. These clouds were not just ordinary clouds; they were mischievous and loved to play tricks with each other! They were the best of friends - Cumulous, fluffy and fat ; Stratus, thin and flat , greyish in colour and always grumpy and finally Nimbus , dark and thick with no specific shape , always ready to rain .  One sunny day, as the gentle wind blew softly, the clouds began to swirl and twirl. "Come on, Wind!" called out Cumulus, the big, fluffy cloud. "Let's dance!" The wind whistled back happily, and soon the clouds and the wind were dancing together, spinning and swirling like a fluffy ballet. But not all the clouds were in the mood for dancing. Stratus, the serious and grumpy    cloud, fumed and frowned , “Stop that silly dancing! We have work to do! If we keep dancing, we’ll never rain!”, ...

  Foreword: I grew up believing that people who die become stars and my innocent mind thought that all the stars in the universe are some good souls of someone’s near and dear loved ones. It gave me great comfort and solace each time I looked up to see the Starry Night as I knew that someone up there surely cared for me. This story has been inspired by some real-life incidents, some films I watched, and in particular, the book “Laws of the spirit world”, by Khorshed Bhavnagri. The story has been written from the perspective of a kind soul, who left the earthly body and is seeking salvation, or “Moksha”, thus is a “Wanderer”. --------------------------------------- I was happy living in my earthly body as Mihir. I loved being a part of the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs that Mihir would face in his life, and loved Maithili, my wife from the very core of my heart. ( I wonder if souls do have a heart). We were a happy couple, blessed with two daughters, Manali and Sonali. We all ...

  It’s a girl! 07.59, time of birth”, said the Gynaecologist. Immediately Akash     noted it down . “07.59, time of death” , told     the cardiologist, to     the anxious Akka and Dileep.   Nihira and Akash were blessed with a baby girl after a wait for 10 long years of parenthood; and at the same time Akka had lost her husband to a massive heart attack . Akka was Akash’s    mother . Dada    and Akka    lived in a huge Wada ( a huge bungalow with big land parcel around it ) in Khed , a small town in Konkan . The wadi had an open space in the front and a well in the backyard amidst mango and arecanut trees .  The exact moment the little angel named Pari was born , Dada , the eldest member in the Joshi family had breathed his last . Dada was well above 75 years and had undergone a bypass surgery when he was in his sixties .He was the father of Akash and Dileep, Dileep being the older son .  When Dileep got mar...

  The wedding rituals were complete and the entire village had gathered to bid the bride and groom farewell, the traditional bidaai ceremony was going on . A lot of promises and vows were made by the groom to the bride’s father about taking good care of Geeta , the only child of Zamindar Himmat Singh . The groom , Ratan Singh, a Subedar Major in the Indian Army was taking home his petite, pretty new bride , Geeta, with great pomp and show . A white coloured Ambassador Car was decked with strings of red roses while a     band played all the Bollywood classics , in particular “ Le jayenge Le jayenge dil waale dulhaniya le jayenge” Geeta’s new home was in the adjacent village , just a couple of hours away . After teary goodbyes, the couple sat in the bridal car and drove slowly keeping in sync with the band . Geeta entered her new home and was welcomed very warmly by her in-laws and relatives. A couple of days thereafter went in a frenzy of rituals and village gatherings. Ge...

  Preface - This story highlights the struggles of alcoholism while also emphasizing themes of resilience, hope, and the importance of seeking help. ——————————————————— The neon lights of the bar flickered like fireflies against the night sky, casting a warm glow on the cold pavement. Sarah sat alone at the bar, stirring her drink absently, her thoughts swirling like the ice in her glass. At fifty five , she felt the weight of the stress of being alone , weighing down , on her shoulders. Sarah was an MBA and had high flying career in the corporate world and found solace in painting . Her daughters, accomplished in their own professions were settled happily in their lives . However, life had not been kind; her husband’s passing lingered in her heart like a bruise that never quite healed, and her life    had crumbled under the strain of unspoken grief and a huge empty loneliness.  One evening, seeking solace, Sarah had found herself at this bar—an escape from reality. ...

  The sun was setting and orange pink hues tinged with grey filled the evening sky . The November breeze was cool with a gentle nip. Sheila stood alone in her vast balcony overlooking a beautiful lawn bedecked with seasonal fragrant flowers. The chirping of birds and the slow music of water as it trickled down the fountain filled the crisp evening.   Lost deep in thought ,a few silent tears rolled down , as she thought of her journey till here .  Sheila and her party had miserably lost the Lok Sabha elections and within a matter of few hours, she was dethroned not only as the PM , but also as the party chief. She stood absolutely alone. A lone traveler now , in this life of defeat . Sheila came from a political family, and was always ambitious. Her sheer grit and hard work made her the party chief and soon the PM.  As she stood there in silence , she viewed her life gone by with anguish and remorse. The price she had to pay to reach the top was huge .  A nasty d...

  It was 4.00 pm in the afternoon, I was resting . I still was quite tired from the preparations of Ganesh Chathurthi, which was on the previous day .   My daughter Sayali and her friend Ruksar were busy doing a photo shoot the entire day . The whole house was full of props, tripods and cameras. “ Mumma, we are waiting for the natural light to become ambient and thus are    free for a bit “, said Sayali . “ Okay, I will get you some coffee and snacks”, said I , thinking that they must be hungry.  “ No, actually, why don’t you dress up and we can do a photo shoot of yours”, came the reply . “ Photo shoot at 61 !! When half my foot is in the grave !!! I have never done one before, even when I got married “, I exclaimed . “ There’s always a first time “, said both Ruksar and Sayali in unison . “ All the more reason for you to do one now “. “ But seriously, why didn’t you get one done when you got married “? Asked Sayali , my very talented and artistic designer daug...

  4 Th November 2019, I was reborn, as a grandmother! This stage of my life began gloriously with the birth of a grandchild. I held in my hands, my bundle of joy , with twinkling black eyes, a nice mop of curly black     hair on a round face with rosy cheeks     . I had received a new well deserved title , “Grandparent”!   It was a joyful experience that brought a lot of love, purpose and gratitude! I experienced a deep love , something that was different from any other , something completely inexplicable ! I remembered the day I was reborn as a mother , and had felt a surge of unconditional love towards my children. But somehow , somewhere in the pressures of being a perfect parent , I had lagged behind    on the sheer feeling of bliss that came with motherhood . Being reborn as a grandmother was a means of refilling this void    . I resolved to be better,    than the parent I was,    to her mother . As a parent, und...