Sun-kissed Ink

  A new patient came in today, right next to me. Her parents said she has a serious illness which needed thorough treatment. She is a cute girl, in her twenties am guessing. She had jet black lush locks cascading till the small of her waist. A cute dimple formed on her freckled left cheek as she forced a smile when her parents waved her goodbye. Stella This place seems cold. I miss my duvet bed and plush teddies. They told me they would bring it to me. Two weeks have gone by, but no one came to visit me. The food is not same. I wonder how many days I have to be admitted here. I miss my room. I miss Viviana. Today she was wheeled in again with the electrode marks. I wondered if these frequent shock treatment did her any good. I had seen agitated patients being given those. But she was different. Since she came she was always calm. Sad but calm. No trait of aggressiveness or delusion. She would always be writing letters. She would gi

    “It’s alright,” she said, Concealing her bruises with foundation.   “Am fine,” she said, Gracefully lining her puffed eyelids.   “All good,” she said Applying lipstick on her trembling wounded lips   “Not bad,” she said Dabbing blush on her listless haggard face.   “Am okay”, she said Wiping a lone tear before it rolled down her cheeks.   This was her daily routine- a beguile Hiding her strifes, she would smile.   One more blow, one more slap till she was sore And she could bear it no more.   Her woman power she unleashed, Her fears she vanquished.   And in her billowing saree bid an adieu To the manipulative aristocratic milieu.

  A blood curdling screech echoed through the onyx sky, making  Hansraj cower in fear. Hansraj was the owner of Tiltop Guesthouse, and since a fortnight shrieks from the treehouse had been disturbing both his sleep and his business. He whispered to the maître d’, “Did you hang the nimbu-mirchi at the main entrance?” “Yes Sir and I already sprinkled mustard seeds at the forest boundary.” “The guests have started asking about the nightly noises now and the locals have been vocal about the tree house ghost!” The next day among the mass checkout, was a single check in – Vipul, a young adventurous travel blogger.  Hansraj went out of his way to welcome him with complimentary cocktails and a free meal upgrade.  In the evening, after a few drinks, he opened up about the haunted tree house.  “I w-wanted to build a bar there to expand my business! And now am out of business because of that ghost!”  "You believe in these hocus-pocus?" He asked wide-eyed with amusement. “Yes Vipul, I ha

Book Title : You Beneath Your Skin  Author: Damyanti Biswas  Dead women with burnt faces and bodies dumped in trashcans in Delhi. Who did it? A gang? A psychopath? A mentally troubled person? These are the questions which rung in my mind after reading the blurb. You Beneath Your Skin unfolds in Delhi, we are introduced to Anjali Morgan, a psychiatrist, struggling with her autistic son Nikhil. We get a glimpse onto her relationship with Police Commisioner Jatin Bhatt. How despite their hectic life,  they fulfil each other's void and find peace their forbidden romance. The complicity of their relationship is portrayed well throughout the story. Apart from bring his soul partner, now Anjali has become his associate in solving the mystery of women found dead with burnt faces.  Sadly, the struggle of Anjali isn't just limited to dealing with her son's behavioural problems shortly after she becomes a prey of a ruthless acid attack. Her introspections after being an acid-attack vi

  You are what you see .   Violence amongst youngsters is unfortunately on the rise. It creeps onto them and darkens the future of our future pioneers. In order to eliminate violence let's delve into the root causes of this scourge.       A child is constantly witnessing domestic violence at home or is a battered child, this affects his psyche. He/she grows up with the idea that violence is the solution to maintain supremacy. This results in a youngster who ends up being a bully resorting to violence at the drop of a hat. The battered child unleashes his/her bottled up frustration through blows and wounds.      On the other side of the coin, we have the spoilt child who thinks throwing tantrums is key to get what he wants. They might even resort to self-inflicted violence to influence people to yield to their indulgences. Therefore it becomes important to tackle these causes and refer the child going through these situation to a psychologist for counseling.      Remember t

Confessions of a Fairy She flipped the notebook pages Which lay untouched since ages. Dear mum I'm now in my new home New skills I am starting to hone. How I used to throw tantrums when hurt! To taunts and wounds, I've become inert. I don't get my cup of coffee in bed I've become an early riser instead. I miss your head massage with oil of jasmine Now I just pop in a pill of aspirin. I didn't binge on Armani, I've started saving money. Read till late night for perfect scores, Now I juggle with household chores. Your dainty fairy has grown and flown And is building a nest of her own. Sun-kissed Ink