26 Mar 2014

Of Temptations, Of Lure.


She was, by far, the most beautiful thing I had ever set my eyes on. The waist-length pitch black hair that had specks of brown when she turned against the sunlight, the denims hugging her curvy hips just right. And when she moved her hands around to illustrate a point of her animated conversation, a bit of creamy skin came into view as her flimsy top rose just a little. The rose bud lips which always sparkled with neon colored gloss were distracting to say the least, my proximity to them on an everyday basis was dangerous to my own sanity. And her long legs competed with a generous bust for attention – needless to say, she was a siren, a siren who held the heart of every man within a five mile radius captive.

But the eyes drew me to them – pitch black with flecks of grey, flecks that spoke of myriad emotions but always closely guarded. In those random moments that I would catch her absently staring into space in the cafeteria, I wondered what she was thinking, what she guarded so closely that those angelic black eyes did not reflect a soul.

I did not find it hard to believe that my brother had fallen head over heels for this bewitching creature.  



I looked at him longingly, he was just…so handsome, so smart and so much fun to be around. I don’t know if it was the fact that he was intelligent AND good-looking that kept drawing my gaze back to him or if it was that he was friendly to me and never anything more, despite my best efforts, that I wanted his undivided attention even more.

Yet, there was something mysterious about him, something a tad bit dangerous, a glint that indicated there was something more to the popular all-rounder that he was. Once, I’d caught sight of that look, just a shade of the devil, but it was gone before I could even register it was there. And right after, the dimpled smile would take over the chiseled features and my cause was lost.



It was the coldest, rainiest night in a really long while and Bangalore didn’t really feel like her own self. I’d spent the evening with cups of steaming masala chai and a Danielle Steele, curled comfortably on the wicker chair by the window. Occasionally, I looked out at the dimming light and traced droplet patterns on the misted up window, my thoughts straying to the past, the present and him. I wondered if anything would ever come to a head. 

I wasn’t the kind of a girl who sat back and watched things pass her by – I took charge and reached out for what I wanted. But asking him out, dropping hints, finding my way into his circle…. Nothing had worked. I wondered if I wanted to take things one step further and bed him – no man in his right senses would ever deny me that. But is that what I really wanted?

I started to feel like he was becoming an obsession.


She uncurled herself from the chair and went into the bedroom, the floor length mirror drew her to its beautiful reflection as she contemplated her own virtues. Well, if she could break someone’s heart just to better her own prospects, couldn’t she sleep with someone to make him hers? And it wasn’t like she would be settling for anything below her standards… he was hot. She sank into the bathtub, immersed in lukewarm water that smelt of lavender and thoughts of him.  

The doorbell rang at 12 in the night and her first thought was of imminent danger. She checked her phone to see if someone had messaged or called, but nothing… She ignored the bell and went back to toweling off. But it rang again.

She went to the door and peeped out through the hole – that is when her heart skipped a beat and her stomach knotted itself; she opened the bolts. There he was, six full feet of pure male, dripping wet from the incessant rains, radiating heat and intent clear in his darkened eyes.

Even Adonis couldn’t hold a candle to this specimen, she thought, as her breathing became a little difficult. 



Long legs dripping with water and the towel that barely covered anything looked like it was going to fall any second - she had probably been taking a shower. I couldn’t control myself anymore, she had been wreaking havoc in my life for far too long and I could care two hoots about the consequences.



Is he drunk? He has to be. Is he really here? I should go change into something more appropriate? But wait, isn’t this exactly what I wanted? I can’t believe he is here. Am I reading this wrong? Will he say something already? I could stand like this forever.


He caught her lithe body up in one swift motion and brought his lips down to meet hers with frenzied need, his minty breath obliterating whatever was left of her thought process. There was no surprise in her compliance but her breath caught…. And stayed there. She felt like a rag doll in his strong arms, her frailty struck him suddenly. 

He pushed her up against the wall next to the door and ravished the rose bud lips that had been occupying his thoughts. Her breath came in short gasps as she decided to take charge – her hands snaked into his thick, dark hair as she pulled closer and she was rewarded by the widening of his eyes.

The door was banged shut.  

Should I stop?

They tripped and twisted their way to the bed, they barely made it there. The perfect curves that he had spent a long time watching now became putty in his hands as she sighed and surrendered to his iron will. His strong, broad chest crushed her under its weight as they tripped and fell onto the white sheets, a tangle of arms and legs and promise-laden breaths.

He was not an obsession. She had finally found someone worth falling in love with.  
She couldn’t wait. Neither could he.
There were no games played, no plays made, no coyness, no explanations. 

Just plain, raw need.  

She started seeing stars under his expert ministrations and her whole world exploded into a million galaxies of stardust.  

That was the moment he chose to drive the knife straight to her heart, that black heart. He took it out and drove it in again. And again.

The stars that she had been seeing turned a bloody, bloody red as her orgasm turned into painful surprise. And then shock.  

You broke my brother.
You drove him to the grave.
All on a whim?
You don’t deserve to live.
You don’t even deserve a decent death.

He spat, wiped his tear-streaked face and left. 


No one went to her funeral. No one ever found him again.  

20 Mar 2014

10 Harsh Realities of Life

...in no particular order

- Moms will always be right. However stupid/outdated/atrocious/crazy/impossible the things they say seem, they will ALWAYS be right. Like when they say you shouldn't trust the girl you are about to move in with because she seems crazy? You should listen to them.

- There is always someone or the other having a better relationship than you. If you are in a new relationship, you will envy the ‘tenured’ relationships. If you have stuck by your man long enough, you will envy the freshness of new relationship. Not to mention all the singles who are cool and totally independent, secretly bemoan the fact that they have no one to cuddle with after work.

- There is always someone with a better wardrobe than you. No matter how long you spend picking out the perfect pieces of clothing for your work wardrobe, someone will come along looking like Donna and you’ll end up feeling like this.

Donna Paulsen - Synonym of Perfection

- Money and that waterfall that you picnicked at? Same strategy, they employ. Keep flowing, never collect in one place. And unless you set automatic transfers to a savings account that you can’t revert at any point, you will be broke by the first week of the month.

- Friends will make the best of plans only those specific weekends that you are busy or when you are traveling home. And God forbid, you miss a road trip, there will be Hell and a bunch of inside stories and jokes (that you don't get head or tail of) to pay for.

- Your winning streak on QuizUp will be abruptly halted at 9 by the ultimate dumbass who knows squat about the topic because in your hurry to gloat, you will answer wrong to the simplest question possible and give away all the bonus points to aforementioned dumbass. (For those of you who haven't played the game yet, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE).

- “What next?” is a question that people are going to haunt you with your entire life. Do not sigh with relief after any milestone that you might have crossed (boards, college, postgrad, job, promotion, marriage… you know), they are still going to be after your life (literal translation of jaan ke picche pade rahenge).

- All the songs you love will always be break up songs. And when you accidentally hum out loud (except in the shower), there will be at least one person who has a pitying look.

- When you stop watching cricket matches that India plays, they will play like their ass is on fire. When you finally convince yourself and watch a match, the first five wickets will drop like bowling pins along with your patriotic feelings for the team. That is when you will start praying for Pakistan to win the match, out of sheer spite.

- A smartphone will never have charge. Regardless of how many awesome things it is capable of, no matter how conscientiously you charge, at that moment when you really, really need to check directions to the club you are going to at 11 in the night, it WILL switch off.

The speed at which it drains is inversely proportional to how badly you need to conserve it.

Bonus point: The ...last seen at feature on Whatsapp is the most annoying feature in all of social networks.
Bonus point 2: Everyone will have better Flappy Bird scores than you. Unless you are one of those people. In which case, I detest your existence.

10 Mar 2014

Born Of Fire

Her heart-rending cries were drowned out by the crackling fire and the raucous, inhuman shouts of the men. Tears spilled from her large, brown eyes – even the long lashes could not hold the barrage of pain that coursed through her young body. Her braids had come undone and the flyaways framed her soot-streaked face in the most angelic way possible – but this angel was far from heaven, the depths of hell were pulling her down into their lecherous arms.

A mere child, she watched helplessly.

The men held her strong father down – it took five of them to prevent him from punching their lights out. And they forced him to watch, watch as one of them flung her mother down on her face in the mud, ripped out the white gown and fucked her to feed his dastardly need. She was the queen he worshipped the feet of, she was his better half, his inspiration to live, she was his and this is what they did to what was his. Her mother sobbed out loud and long – she was a woman, pain wasn’t her concern; it was this public taking of what belonged to her husband, the love of her life that hurt her soul. She was not too weak to withstand the bastard’s animalistic actions but too weak to look into the eyes of her lord and see his rage and disappointment in having failed her.

A mere child, she watched helplessly.

And then the animal was done with her mother, so the next one took his place and then the next and then the next. Her mother sobbed for mercy, her body was being violated and her soul breaking into smithereens of excruciating pain – she finally reached the precipice where she knew that death was her only salvation and sent up a prayer for the darkness to engulf her. Her father let out a bellow of rage, the roar of a wounded lion that resounded from every corner of the burning village. A bellow that struck fear in the hearts of the men, making them react like only cowards can – three more held him down and laughed on his face to hide their jitters; the cowards drew strength in their numbers.

A mere child, she watched helplessly.

She stopped moving. They laughed and trod over her still body.
He stopped struggling. They laughed and spat on his face.

They stood them both up and cut their heads off with a single swipe of their heinous blades.

A mere child, she watched helplessly.

She looked at the blood flowing freely out of what remained of the people she loved so much more than life, the pain in their hearts pierced hers like a billion blades.

It was but a few hours before that her beautiful mother braided her lovely brunette locks with red ribbons and her father swung her up into the air with his strong arms as she erupted with giggles and now…. And now her life had changed forever.

And that was the beginning of the epic that is Artemisia.

P.S: What can I say, she joins my list of inspirational women.
P.P.S: In case you can't didn't realize, the entire thing is a scene out of 300: The Rise Of An Empire. Average movie, exemplary villain.