My Inner Madonna
I almost said no and called this post ‘Not A Party Girl’. Instead, today I chose my Inner Madonna.
Navigating complex emotions of jealousy, ambition, insecurity, joy, fear, peace, anger, happiness, betrayal, contentment, disappointment, love.
I almost said no and called this post ‘Not A Party Girl’. Instead, today I chose my Inner Madonna.
The past is a drunk ex-husband.
The future is a mysterious, smiling stranger.
The first week of June spells pre-monsoon showers in Mumbai.
Hello. I am an Angry Woman. This is not the same thing as Angry Girl that gives rise to a subculture of music and other pop references. It has only partly to do with my age.
Today’s short story is about the power of lines – physical and intangible. The prompt was a famous Bollywood dialogue, which also appears in the story.
A short story about the truth behind the peaceful family.
Turena wipes the wood-top desk and arranges the white sheet over it. It’s impractical, she has been told, but that’s what an architect would think. No artist would deny the magic of a white surface, the dichotomy of blank or plain, the lure of bleeding the pristine. Funnily enough, that…
Dance, dance with meSwing me out of secretsReel me into your criesSpin me over conversationsTo meet under shared laughter Dance with me.
Cliches, clichés. Cliches are the cliché of every woman’s life. Our worlds are constructed on set-in-stone clichés. Even transitions are clichéd, at specific times, in defined ways. You know what the biggest cliché of an empowered, modern woman’s life is? “Love yourself.” Nobody tells you how this is to happen,…
“Flowers and chocolate. Jewellery is always welcome, of course. And don’t be shy of perfumes.” Sheena announced. A grunt was all she got for her airy declarations, before Ajit turned to the waiter. Sheena slumped back in her seat, downcast. Maybe talking about jewelery and perfume was a bit much….