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Why Ishithaa

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Why Ishithaa

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Dark Secret

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To say the least, my parents rejected and disowned me when they came to know how I really am. It is not by my free will that I lead a life like this, hiding from the society, never going home, always afraid of being ridiculed or mocked at. It is not my parents’ fault that they live in a coastal village along the western ghats of India where they are still not free to decide what is right and what is wrong for them. Similarly, it is not my fault that I’m like this; this is not a choice I have made.
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Online?

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She smiled as she read the chat. ‘Online?’ Just one word, yet, it made her smile. While typing out a yes, she wondered whether or not to add a smiley to go along with it… whether just the yes would sound rude to this overtly polite guy, or would the smiley give him an impression that she was anxiously waiting for his message. She chided herself for not having been active in the dating game in her younger days so she would know the nuances on how to, what to and what not to by now. To her dismay, he found Milan to be a very nice guy, who spoke and behaved well, she felt quite comfortable around him. After lunch, they went to the nearby park and from there chose to walk back till her apartment. On their way back, Milan asked her if she enjoyed the afternoon with him, though she answered a simple ‘it was fine’, her smile revealed a lot more and he caught the twinkle in her eyes and smiled back. That cute boyish grin, again. Something happened to her when he smiled at ...
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A Fistful of Rose Petals

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“Maaaaaaaa! Gueshh what I got” my little birdie chirped in her ever pleasing sing song voice. “Hmm.. what is it baby?” “Gueshh naaaa…” the birdie’s voice is gaining frequency the minute. She is every bit her father’s daughter – loving, raucous and edgy. Looking up at her from the book I am reading, see that her tiny little hand is all balled up into a tight fist and is outstretched towards me. “Is it a button?” She loves picking up these things from wherever she can. “No” “Hmm.. is it a marble?” “No…” “Then is it..’” “Never mind maa, I will show you” and she opens up her fist with a broad smile to show these precious petals from a rose flower, blood red in colour. I am at a loss at what to tell her. Do I tell her that a plant is a living being, and that she is not supposed to hurt another living thing? But how could - I - who kills cockroaches and mosquitoes, eats non vegetarian food – tell my daughter that it is wrong hurt another living be...
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