Z is for Zohra
why don’t you get married?
i like my life like this
who will take care of you when you get old?
i will
who will love you when you get old?
i will
who will provide for you when you get old?
i will
you are impossible
i am!
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
Y is for Yumna
“Why is Bhabhi praying now? The panditji will
be here any minute for the pooja.”
“She`s reciting a prayer for Ma- I think it’s called a Fatiha.”
“But why? Ma is a Hindu- that too a Brahmin!”
Yumna folded her prayer mat and smiled, “Are you worried that
Allah will grant her jannant instead of Bhagwan welcoming
her in swarg?”
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
X is for Xia
She knew she could not live with him anymore. Not when he
told her in the third month of her pregnancy. “It has to be a boy. There is
still time. Let`s do the sex-determination test. I know a doc who will do it
unofficially for us. It will save us from heart break later if it turns out to
be a girl…”
She knew then that they had no future together.
***
It was time. She dialed the clinic. "My water just broke
Doc.”
“Come now. Take a cab please. Don`t drive.”
“Yes.”
“You are almost there. What took you so long,” chided the
doctor as they wheeled her in the delivery room.
In a few minutes she was holding on to a miracle. She kissed
her little Xia.
"Xia? Unusual. What does it mean?" asked the doctor
“Sunrise.” she smiled weakly.
A new beginning.
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
W is for Waheeda
and then he kicks me out of the door
slams it shut on my face
i sit shivering in the cold
the chai wala gives me a steaming cup of tea
why do you argue?
i look at him
wordlessly.
on such nights I also wonder
why do I argue? protest?
nothing changes.
every time it happens
i spend a night on
the street
waiting by the door
till next morning
he opens the door and drags me in
why do I argue? protest?
nothing changes.
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
V is for Vidhi
“How liberal is your husband! So forthcoming. He has never
stopped you from pursuing your career,” Mini screamed.
“Yes. He has never stopped me because he has been busy
pushing me.”
Mini declared, “Well, you are really a thankless woman! He
is so supportive!! Here is a husband who is letting you travel for work and you
want to complain. What more do you want?”
“I just want to be. Not be a Trophy wife he can flaunt at
every gathering. I want to spend time with the girls. Can I not decide what I
want from life? It`s not that we need the money. I can work flexi-hours. I am
happy to not climb the ladder.”
“Talk about whiny women. Here you have a plum opportunity, a
supportive husband and you want to complain. So what if he pushes you? That is the
reason you have reached so far!”
“Don`t you get it. I don`t want to.”
“You can`t decide suddenly that you don’t want to. Not after
all that he has sacrificed for you. He didn’t take up the overseas posting. He
chose to be home when you had to travel. He loves you. It is payback time now. You have to do what he
says. Don`t say no to this opportunity.”
“Payback ? My own husband? Is it even love or just a well-planned
transaction?”
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
U is for Uma
He loved kheer. That was the first dish she had
cooked for him when she had married him 42 years back.
“Bahu you have to make something sweet. It is a shagun,”
her mother-in-law had instructed her.
A shy Uma had offered to cook Kheer. And he had loved it.
Taken 3 helpings as she had looked at him from the corner of her eyes. God
knows how devoted she had been to him all these years. Everyone around them
could see it too.
“Mukul bhai you are lucky to have Uma as your wife!”
“Moti daan kiye honge jo asis biwi mili.”
He had been a good husband too. Never uttered a harsh
word-not even on the night when they learnt that she could not bear him any
children. He had hugged her, “We are a family. We complete each other.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she stirred in the sugar in
the kheer. She chopped the pistas as the kheer simmered.
She washed and gently wiped the fresh rose petals. Most
days he would gobble it down hot but some days he would wait patiently for it
cool in the fridge. He loved it when she served the cold kheer in a bowl
garnished with pista and rose petals.
She looked at him tenderly as he stared blankly out of the
window. He had been confined to his bed for 12 years. 12 long years since the
stroke. Last 6 months had been a nightmare. Most days he struggled with her
name and some days he did not even recognize her. But last night he was lucid- “Uma
make some kheer for me tomorrow.”
Hence the kheer today. She sat next to his bed with
the bowl. She sprinkled the powder – she had crushed 12 sleeping tablets-one
for each year- on the kheer and mixed it gently. She then sprinkled pistas
and the rose petals.
She gently turned his face and looked into his eyes. Her
eyes brimmed as she lifted a spoon and gently fed him.
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
T is for Tashi
you chose him
we told you not to marry
different religion, different city...
it`s all your fault
you don`t listen
you don’t understand.
but ma do you understand?
do you listen?
I am a failure
But do you have to be one too?
This year, I'm participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
powered by theblogchatter.com
