ABC Challenge #9 – I for Infidelity

‘I love your curls’ he said, facing her, and playing with the locks that spilled into his palm.

‘Tell me something new’ she replied, running her finger along his muscled arm.

‘Oh, I could write a book about things that I love about you’ he said, smiling his heart-stopping smile, and she wondered how mere words could cause her heart to race like this. ‘Stop behaving like a school kid’ she chided herself, unable to control the blush that was spreading to her neck now.

He laughed aloud watching her now pink face, the laugh making her blush deeper. ‘Oh, stop’ she murmured, and let him pull her into his arms, and sighed contentedly.

She turned, cuddling into him, and wondered if it was okay to say it then. She had been wanting to say it for the past three months- ever since he bailed her out of her abusive relationship with her boyfriend, ever since he helped her find a place for herself, ever since he gave her that much needed promotion, ever since he touched her in ways she never knew were possible..

‘Baby?’ she moved her lips against his chest, hoping he might not have heard her, then she could put off telling him.

‘Umn?’ He had heard.

‘You know, I had been meaning to tell you something..’ she faltered

‘Yeah? What is it?’ Pointblank. He was already inching away, to look into her face, when his cellphone started buzzing, distracting him.

‘I love you..I think I am in love with you’ she blurted, desperate to hold on to the moment.

He ignored the call, and stared at her, the kind chocolate shade of his eyes turning a cold, aloof brown.

‘Haven’t I told you..’ He started, immediately pulling himself up and looking for his clothes.

‘I know, I know..I just..felt like saying it!’ she tried to explain, but through the film of tears, she could only see a blurred image of him acting like he heard nothing.

‘I got to leave, I’ll see you tomorrow’ he replied curtly, and left shutting the door behind him.

He turned the ignition in the car and punched a few keys into his blackberry, returning the call that he had missed.

‘Yeah, I am just starting, we had a client call’ he said, checking his face in the rear view mirror, setting his hair into a more client-call-story-believable style.

‘Have you had anything to eat yet?’ the concerned voice asked him.

‘No, heat something..I will have dinner at home tonight’ he sighed.

‘Okay, drive safe. I love you’ the voice said.

There was a moment of silence. ‘Umm’ he replied, cutting the call.

‘Three simple words’, he thought wistfully. ‘And I can’t bring myself to say them. To anybody.’

He stared at the visage looking at him from the mirror.

‘Pathetic’ it said to him.


ABC Challenge #8 – H for Hope

Someday I will get a tattoo. I don’t know when, but I know what I want. A four leaved clover. It has a French connection. The French believe that a four leaved clover will bring one luck. Each of the four leaves stand for love, faith, luck and hope. Of all the four, I value hope the most- for it has seen me through every broken phase, every unsure decision, every time I questioned myself. The tattoo would remind me of all the fires I walked though, moulding me to what I am today, a mark of how I must never forget to hope.

“Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.” – The Shawshank Redemption




*All images from the internet

ABC Challenge #7 – G for Gitanjali

The first Gitanjali that the world knew was the masterpiece that won India’s celebrated Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore his Nobel prize for Literature. Gitanjali in that context means ‘song offering’ but the Gitanjali who this post is about doesn’t sing. Given a choice between getting stung by a hundred bees and singing in front of a crowd, she will brace herself for the bees.

She doesn’t dance, either. Her body, she thinks, was fashioned out of wood. In discs and pubs though, she can enthusiastically clap and annoy everybody around her with the thumping. Which is why she doesn’t go to such places often. She loves her friends and wants to hold on to all of them for eternity.

She is not very good at keeping things in order, but manages to find what she is searching for whenever she needs it. She has very high levels of tolerance for normal craziness but this clause becomes null and void when she is PMS-ing. Conversely, she cannot and will not put up with mad and psycho-seeming people. She fears them and will cut them off from her life when she feels threatened.

She is optimistic and generally likes to smile. Still, she likes dogs more. Atleast they smile back at her when she bares her teeth at them. She likes books more than that- they just let her be. But most of all she values her family and friends the most.

She loves new sights, new sounds and new people. She gets a weird high chatting up with unknown people. She doubts her sanity at very rare times only, still.

Some people think she seems a little too cold and snotty for their likes, but because she is older and wiser now, she doesn’t bother too much about what ‘some people’ think. She rewinds back to those embarrassing days when acceptance and being a part of THE crowd mattered the most to her. Oh, thank God she grew up!

She is a sucker for chocolates, love stories and happy endings. She is a late entrant into the world of shoes and bags and is just finding her way around the maze, and is loving what she sees! She loves talking about herself and cannot stop once she gets she thinks she’d better stop now. She is dying to finish this series, which is why this post came up, and she hopes you would understand and partake in the craziness 🙂

ABC Challenge # 6 – F for Farewell

“When you see a man casting pearls without getting even a pork chop in return–it is not against the swine that you feel indignation. It is against the man who valued his pearls so little that he was willing to fling them into the muck and let them become the occasion for a whole concert of grunting….” – Dominique Francon, The Fountainhead

I was on two minds about the title of the post. I was unsure if Freedom or Free-fall would be more appropriate instead of Farewell. However, Farewell seemed more dramatic, so I stuck to it.

After deliberating for a while, I quit my job. I have no offers in hand, I have no answer to everybody’s ‘What next??’ I have no idea what I will be doing (for shopping cash) after three months. I have plans- many plans, in vaporized state. I have a long list of things I want to do, places I want to go to- I shall see if I can check them off my bucket list.

I know this would come across as an extremely foolish decision to some, and would sound like a thrill to others, but to me, it feels like I am jumping off a cliff with absolutely no idea what lies at the bottom. It feels like fun. Maybe I would sprout a nice colourful parachute open midway 😛

Many people have told me not to take this period lightly, and not be too laid back about it. Some are rushing me to get another job, and I look at them with surprise- I have NO intentions of getting into another fat-cheque-no-brainwork job. My folks, for their share, are worried that my value in the marriage market would hit the bottom, but, well, let’s figure one thing out at a time!

The day after I gave my resignation, I woke up in cold sweat, going all, oh my God! But the moment I was back at my desk, I felt I had done the right thing. It is not about the job- I have an enviable job profile, I would allow myself to say. No extra hours, no weekend support, no pressure, decent bosses, nice money..BUT STILL, there was something missing. In a way, I felt, as I looked back on my three years here, there was nothing quantifiable, nothing significant that I had achieved.

I think a job should be something that you love doing. Like another Fountainhead quote that I had flicked off a friend’s wall the other day, one of Howard Roark’s- “But you see, I have, let’s say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find the joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standards–and I set my own standards. I inherit nothing. I stand at the end of no tradition. I may, perhaps, stand at the beginning of one.”

This is one of the bravest things that I have done all my life. It took a lot of force to throw myself off that cliff. I was getting too comfortable, and it was scaring me.

What do I aspire to do next? I wish I can make a difference in people’s lives in some way or the other. Like the 100 Pipers ad that plays in my head all the time.

“Is life measured in trophies..

In frequent flier miles, miles per hour..

In con calls..

Time-line crunches, in business brunches..

Is life measures in Oxford shoes & prince drapes in corner offices…?

Our life is also measured in the lives we touch”