Sunday, October 6, 2013

Will It Ever Stop?


There’s just no stopping,
To my wife’s shopping,

Week after week, mall after mall,
Store after store, stall after stall,

Existing, fresh, or in sale,
You can’t stop this female,

DT, Ambience, TGIP… or Select City Walk,
Be it a market, a nagar… or simply a chowk,

Vero Moda, Only, Kazo, Marks & Spencer,
Bhagwaan ke liye, please ab toh bas kar!!!

“When will this stop”, I ask my room’s wall,
Suddenly I hear, “Honey, let’s go to the mall”

We enter the store, and she smells the outlet,
She picks a top and matches it with a bracelet,

“Kaisa lag raha hai, batao?” she will look at me,
While I try hard to figure…what I need to see,

“Ok-Ok”, I say this useless thing,
She removes the bracelet and tries a ring,

And then a pendant, and then an earring,
And then a blah blah, and then something,


One fine day, when I thought it was enough,
I mustered the courage to do something tough,

I said, “No need to shop like this, you crazy woman”
“Don’t behave like a maniac, behave like a human”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about money,”
“But it’s the time to stop all this… honey,”

She shouted “OK”, and then came near,
And said, “You don’t get to drink any beer,”

“And forget about playing cricket, that’s all history,”
“Why can’t you play, tell your friends… it’s mystery,”

“You’ll come home from office, sharp at four”
“Not a minute less and not even a minute more”

 “No more chicken-mutton, no more prawn-fish”
“Pure vegetarian food--that should be your only wish”

“Forget all your friends, they’re all bad company”
“Spend all your time at home, with family and me”


I exit the room with my phone, pretending there’s a call,
I come back in a minute, and say, “Honey, let’s go to the mall”.


 While driving, I feel bad. I was so wrong in asking her to stop! So, I say:

“Darling, these little arguments add to our life... the color,”
“Don’t you think without them it’s going to be so much duller?”

…and she’s happy! And I’m happy.

While I continue driving, thinking how I've made the amends,
And how close I’d come to losing my cricket, beer, and friends.


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 42; the forty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-TonThe theme for the month was "COLOR"

Got 3 votes for this post. The winner got 8 :)

Sunday, January 6, 2013


 Hi! My name’s Sammy (Samarth), and this is my story.

I was 12 years old. As innocent as they come.

It was summer vacations, and as expected, I was loving it. In the middle of the vacations, my mom told me that bua and phoopha (dad’s sister and her husband) will be visiting us. That was extremely exciting news for me. Well, because they always brought gifts.

So, soon enough, they reached us after an overnight train journey from Bhopal, their residence town. I hid all my excitement and behaved quite normally on seeing them. I touched their feet and quietly stood in the corner. However, in half an hour, I started getting impatient. They kept conversing with my parents and just would not unpack. At this end, I was getting extremely desperate for them to unpack and hand me my gift.

Finally, an hour later, they went to their room. And in five minutes, I followed them. I meant to make my appearance look like an accident. And it worked. Bua saw me and told me that she’s brought something for me. Hell, I knew that already. All I managed to say was, “okay”. Then, she handed me a green colored wristwatch. I fell in love with my wristwatch. The body of the watch was made of thick rubber, and the green was the army green. The watch looked solid and I was sure it would not break even if I dropped it. Great!

At night, the sleeping arrangements were such that Phoopha (I will call him uncle from here on) was to sleep in my room with me and my brother (who was 3 years younger to me). I don’t really remember why such arrangements were made. Especially when I clearly remember the aunt and the uncle had a separate room to themselves.

Anyways, I took the center; my brother was on my right, and the uncle on the left. We did a little chitchat and went off pretty soon. I remember last seeing the time as 12:43 in my new green watch. The watch slept next to my pillow.

Then! In the middle of the night, I was suddenly awoken by the uncle. I had my back toward him, and he’d grabbed my left hand. Then, he took the hand and made me hold something.

I can remember pretty well how the ‘thing’ felt. It was soft like a mouse and a little thick in size. I thought about it but could not identify what it was. It did not seem like anything I’d held before. The uncle did not know I was awake, and I kept acting asleep. He kept holding my hand and continued to make me feel that thing. I was a bit scared. But, honestly, I had no idea what was happening. It was a strange night.

<<Some years later >>

As I grew up, I continued to remember the happenings of that strange night. I never shared it with anyone. It was my personal secret. All that time, I did not even know if it was worthy of being a secret.

Anyways… I don’t remember how old I was, but one day it hit me! It hit me real hard. I suddenly realized what the uncle was up to. He had sexually molested me and made me hold on to his… you know! He molested a child is what I could mutter. I felt really odd. I am unable to explain the exact feeling, but I felt really sick. Yes, sick is the word. And from the day the realization came, there have been voices in my ears. My own voices probably. It’s like my world started echoing with some questions.

Did he do that to my brother as well? Did he do it to me again? What to do now? Do I tell this to anyone?

Did I enjoy it? What if I did? What if I felt bad for myself only because someone in my position is supposed to? What if I am going crazy?

 I felt sorry for myself. My mind was screwed.

<<Some more years later>>

The same uncle and aunt shifted to Delhi. They found a home in our society; my father helped them find one. I had lost all emotions for them by then, so, I hardly cared.

I grew up. But the memories of that night and those stupid questions remained with me.

I had started seeing a girl and did not open it up to her as well. I thought there’s no point. Deep down inside, I felt sick. Very sick.

A few years passed by, and this uncle got hospitalized. He had some major issue that I had no clue about. I still don’t know actually. I did not even bother asking anyone. However, I did get to know that he was being discharged the other day. My dad had asked me to drive to their place to see him. I hesitated initially but then went with him.

We reached their house, and it was total chaos. Seems like the uncle had fainted the moment he reached home. And everyone was in panic not knowing what to do. They decided to rush him back to the hospital. I had been a pretty good driver, so, they carried him to my car and asked me to drive. And I drove him back to the hospital. On the way, I clearly remember thinking of that night. But I drove real fast and the thoughts vanished soon.

At the hospital, he was declared ‘brought dead’. Yes, he was dead.

I walked away from the room the doctor made that announcement. I was not happy, not sad. I was indifferent.

Anyways, suddenly, surprisingly, after his death, the world was silent again. There were no voices anymore. No more questions that I needed to answer. Was this the end to my misery? It was a weird feeling. I would not have wanted him to die for this to happen, but that’s the way it did. In some corner of my mind, I felt a little relieved.

<< @^$&@%##*(!#>>

However, it was all too temporary.

Soon enough, all the thoughts came back to me. Just like old times. My mind kept bringing up the night and the ‘thing’ back to me, pretty well, yet again.

And all that had changed was that a new question got added to the list. Did god specifically want him to die in front of me?

The thought stays with me till date.

And everything haunts me till date. Why can’t I forget all of it?

Why can I still feel the texture of the ‘thing’ the moment I clench my fist? 

This post was written by me as part of 35th Blog-a-Ton. I got no votes for this one as well. :) This was one of the rare occasions I tried to write something serious. I think I am better off writing humor stories.

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