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Make A Wish

She is gathering her articles to go for a weekend meet for first time tomorrow. She has just joined a blogging platform which calls for a blogger meet once or twice every month. As she is new, she decides to go in one so that she could mingle with other co-bloggers. Writing has been her passion. All the day at home, she could fill at least her diary with one of the anecdotes. It is not impossible for her to be a good blogger. The blogger meet is on the topic “Women rights” under which articles are invited for a renowned women rights’ organization, “Mithi.”

While this going on, she also became part of a group which subsequently resulted in friends’ request from co-bloggers, all women. Everyday, she could log on to Facebook to see the latest updates by them after her husband goes off to work. Her pen seems not so strong when it comes to putting latest statuses. Her friends are quick and witted. They talked about latest jewelry, fashion shows, relationships, queer topics related to marriage, children and women. She often fails to draw a relevance though basically she understands most of them.

Her insecurity starts to affect her. She feels in everything she does, a sense of rejection and passiveness. Her culinary skills are average but best according to her family. She never concocted a fresh ginger juice tinge to lemon juice and similar other tips that are abundant over women magazine and favorite with her new friends. Her dresses are also average and never added any accessory other than a purse while they tried fake tattoos, latest hairstyles, mix and match footwear, etc. Her husband, Raman notices a wave of dismay on her face every morning and inquires about it. She merely nods her hand in rejection and tells nothing.

On weekend, Raman decides to take her to an outing. They go to a city garden where beautiful fountains are being played in resonance with some music in background. Small children with women and their men are present in park. She is feeling a sense of merriment and inspiration in all of them. The fatigue goes away for a while. On return, Raman goes to an electronic market and buys something. Sumita looks at the packet which is not covered in any special wrapping and says, “another gadget? What is this now?” He smiles and says, “This is latest smartphone for you.” Sumita gives him dazzled looks. “What might he be up to?” She thinks hard. “Today is 04th August, and yes, it is my birthday and that’s why.” She feels bemused.

Raman keeps on driving already knowing that she has came to realize that it is her birthday. At home, as she enters and switches on light, a greeting musical starts, “happy birthday to you.” There she could see some common friends gather around the table on which lies a cake. She thanks everyone for wishing her happy birthday and coming. Soon, the cake cutting ceremony is announced. As she approaches the table along with Raman, he stops her from cutting the cake. He brings out a wrapped parcel. “What is it?” asks Sumita. Raman: “Open it to see yourself, Sumita.” Sumita opens it up by carefully unwarping it. She finds a book in it, titled “A Secret by Mrs. Sumita Kumari.” She gapes with her mouth open to find that the book is a compiliation of some beautiful anecdotes which she has been putting down in her diary. Obviously, Raman would have yielded to the suspense around the diary lying on side of her bed.

Raman takes book from her hand. Sumita holds him back and with a little closer hug says, “Thanks Raman.” Raman lights the candle on the cake and tells her to make a wish. She giggles and says, “I have got everything” and blew away candles. The cake is cut and is served to the guests.


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Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.

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Cold winds with those dark clouds
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do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

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