Expression Challenge #4 Response


Expression Challenge #4 Response

Hi Ladies, we are so happy to bring all your beautiful responses you submitted for Expression Challenge #4 for the above picture. It was really fun to read all your responses. Read all your beautiful submissions below. (You can find all our past challenges here!)

Congratulations Kritika, Ramya Crossy, Puneri Priyanka and Sharma Asha Sangeeta. Your entries have been selected as editor’s choice!

Continue reading “Expression Challenge #4 Response”

The daughter who never was – Part 6


Please use the star rating option above to rate this story!

हिंदी में पढ़े/ Click here for all the parts

Morning

After finishing breakfast, Shikha didi helped me with the breakfast. I felt really nice when I touched my own soft smooth skin after years. The satin nightie that I was wearing was slipping effortlessly over my body and got me excited a little.

“OK, dear. Now, you should go and take a hot bath. And take out a beautiful saree from my cupboard to get ready. I don’t want to hear our mother nagging about your looks.”, Shikha didi said as she touched my legs to inspect for any spots that may have been left. She wanted to ensure that my waxing was perfect. She seemed satisfied with her work.
Continue reading “The daughter who never was – Part 6”

बेटी जो थी नहीं – ६


कृपया ऊपर दी हुई स्टार रेटिंग का प्रयोग कर इस कहानी को रेट करे!

Read in English/ कहानी के सभी भागो के लिए क्लिक करे

सुबह

नाश्ता करने के बाद शिखा दीदी ने मेरी फुल बॉडी वैक्सिंग की. सालो बाद अपनी मखमली कोमल त्वचा को महसूस करके मुझे अच्छा तो बहुत लग रहा था. अब दीदी की दी हुई सैटिन की मैक्सी भी मेरे तन पर फिसलते हुए मुझे रोमांचित कर रही थी.

“अच्छा वैक्सिंग तो हो गयी. अब नहा ले और मेरी अलमारी से अच्छी सी साड़ी निकाल कर तैयार हो जा. माँ को कोई शिकायत का मौका नहीं मिलना चाहिए.”, शिखा दीदी ने मेरे पैरो पर हाथ फेरते हुए कहा. वो देख रही थी कि कहीं कोई हिस्सा रह तो नहीं गया वैक्सिंग के लिए. अपने काम से वो संतुष्ट दिखी.
Continue reading “बेटी जो थी नहीं – ६”

The daughter who never was – Part 5


Please use the star rating option above to rate this story!

हिंदी में पढ़े/ Click here for all the parts

Freedom

“Listen, now that you are going to a big city, don’t forget our culture and your manners. I have heard the kind of things the girls from big cities do. Don’t ever forget your limits!”, my mother Gita said as she filled my suitcase with sarees and salwar suits.

z1.jpg
I was going to receive my freedom soon

The time to go and attend my college in Delhi had arrived. My sister Shikha didi and her husband Vinay will be coming to take me with them soon. After years of wait, I was finally ready to be free from the control of my evil mother Gita. I will now be free to live my life as a boy in my new college. But still, my mother was packing my bag with sarees and salwar suits. May be she had really become a mad woman, or she was trying to ignore the fact that she had forced me to live the life of a girl, which I never intended to be. I never saw any remorse or regret on her face for all the bad things she did to me. I silently listened to whatever she was saying to me. It was just a matter of a few hours, and I will be free soon! Continue reading “The daughter who never was – Part 5”

बेटी जो थी नहीं – ५


कृपया ऊपर दी हुई स्टार रेटिंग का प्रयोग कर इस कहानी को रेट करे!

Read in English/ कहानी के सभी भागो के लिए क्लिक करे

आज़ादी

“अच्छा सुन, शहर जाकर अपने रंग ढंग न बदल लेना. मैंने सुना है बड़े शहरों के कॉलेज में लडकियां कैसे कैसे गुल खिलाती है. अपनी मर्यादा मत भूलना!”, मेरी माँ ने मेरे सूटकेस में कुछ साड़ियाँ और सलवार सूट भरते हुए कहा.

z1.jpg
अब जल्दी ही मैं अपनी माँ के चंगुल से आज़ाद होने वाली थी.

मेरे दिल्ली में कॉलेज जाने का समय आ चूका था. थोड़ी ही देर में शिखा दीदी और विनय जीजू मुझे अपने साथ लेने के लिए आने ही वाले थे. अब सालों के इंतज़ार के बाद मैं अपनी क्रूर माँ गीता के चंगुल से आज़ाद होकर कॉलेज में एक लड़के के रूप में पढने वाली थी. पता नहीं फिर क्यों मेरी माँ गीता मेरे लिए साड़ियाँ और सूट भर रही थी. या तो वो पागल हो गयी थी या फिर वो इस बात को अनदेखा करना चाहती थी कि अपने जिस बेटे को उसने ज़बरदस्ती एक लड़की का जीवन जीने मजबूर की है, वो अब फिर से लड़का बन कर रहना चाहता है. उसके चेहरे पे उसने जो कुछ भी मेरे साथ किया उसके लिए कभी पश्चाताप या दुःख नहीं देखा मैंने. मैं चुपचाप उसकी बातें सुनती रही. बस कुछ ही घंटे और सहना था मुझे और फिर मैं आज़ाद पंछी. Continue reading “बेटी जो थी नहीं – ५”

Ragini: The Mother


Please use the star ratings above to rate this story!

Click here to read all the parts of this story

Note: This story is contributed by our lovely reader, Lakshmi Seetha. We have not edited this story in any way. All rights for this story belong to the original author.

Last Chapter

I reached my home by 10pm and began to type my initial draft. The writing was exhaustive one, as I had loop through my recordings multiple times to give my article a right balance as I did not wish it to be neither to be preachy nor to be bland documentary. After multiple rounds of corrections, I was satisfied with my final draft and titled it “THE ACCIDENTAL MOTHER”.

“Its… “, my mentor began to give his opinion after brushing through my draft. “It’s great. I like it”, his positive comments was a confidence booster. “Just some minor corrections, please note it”, he gave his suggestions regarding some phrases. I quickly corrected them and submitted for re-approval. “This looks fine; please submit it to Mr. Ram of publishing department along with the photograph. He will take care of the rest”, he gave me detail explanation about the publishing procedure. “Sure, thanks”, I thanked for his explanation and handed over my final copy to the respective department.

“The… Accidental… Mother”, I bought the Sunday paper and began to read my own article with pride. Though I had read by my draft multiple times, it was a proud moment to read it from a newspaper column. “- Arjun”, reading my name at the bottom right was indeed a special one. The day was littered with calls from my friends and relatives who congratulated me for writing such an article. Icing on the cake, was my mother’s call which gave me immense satisfaction. The next day, I requested half-day permission as I had to attend to personal commitments. By the time I reached by bus stand, the time was 12pm. With the stand was completely empty, I began to play games on my phone till bus arrived.

“Hi”, someone interrupted my play by patting on my shoulders, which made me tilt my head up to check the person. “Oh… Hi”, my face lit up as it was the WOMAN who was standing beside me with a smile. She looked completely different with what I had seen previously, with neatly pleated saree, perfect makeup and single braid instead of tight bun which would do normally made me inadvertently stand up in respect. I saw Archana hiding behind her holding the loose end of her saree, which made both look like a perfect mother-daughter duo. “Please have a seat”, we both seated next to each other and Archana sat on her lap as usual.

The WOMAN came home to see me with her daughter. She looked much better this time in neatly draped saree.

“How are you?”, I inquired about both of them. “So far good, but I believe it’s going to be great. Thanks to you”, her answer made kind of curious. “Thanks to me?” I wanted to know what she meant. I came to know from her that a NGO named “CARING HANDS” had come across my article. Since I had mentioned her street address in my article, they directly reached out to her to provide financial help. “That’s really great”, I was proud that my article had given a helping hand. “They are actually here”, she waved to someone. A car arrived nearby the bus stand and a young lady wearing the NGO shirt got out and waved at me.

“Okay, I don’t want you to be late to office”, she got up and carried Archana in her hip making me smile. “I do look like a mother, right?”, she laughed looking at me. “You are a mother”, I corrected her. “Thanks”, in her eyes I saw a mother who did and will do anything for her daughter. I gave my personal number and requested her to contact me anytime. “Sure, say bye to uncle”, both of them waved at me and reached out for the car.

I requested the NGO representative to come near as I wanted to talk to her. “Hi, could you please let me know what privileges they will be receiving?” I inquired about their plans. “Sure, the girl will soon be enrolled in a private school and for the mother, we have offered her a job to be care-taker for special children”, the she spoke their plans in detail. “One more thing, we will be filing a petition to legal adoption papers. But, you know there are compilcat… “, as she continued. “She will pull it through”, I responded looking at the WOMAN. “Really?”, NGO lady began to explain about legal battles they have to face. “She will because I know her”, I answered with a smile. After some clarifications, the NGO lady took her leave and hopped into the car, as I waved goodbye to them.

Just as the car was about leave, “Wait… wait”, I ran towards the car. Seeing me running, the driver stopped and everyone quickly lowered the car window. “What happened?”, the woman was startled for a second. “I never knew your name”, I asked her after catching my breath. “I told you right, it’s Ranjith”, she was puzzled to know why I was asking which I had already known. “No, I never knew YOUR name”, I pointed to her as I asked her name. She looked at me for a moment and spelled her name “RAGINI”. “Ragini! That’s my… that’s a nice name”, I restrained myself and complimented her name. I took a step back and requested the driver to start the car. The driver started the car and disappeared slowly into the crowd as I waved at them thinking about her name. “Ragini… that’s my MOTHER’s name as well”

The End

Click here to read all the parts of this story

Image Credits: Xossip

If you liked this story, please don’t forget to give your ratings!

free hit counter

Ragini: The Daughter


Please use the star ratings above to rate this story!

Click here to read all the parts of this story

Note: This story is contributed by our lovely reader, Lakshmi Seetha. We have not edited this story in any way. All rights for this story belong to the original author.

Chapter 7

I was shocked to the extent that now I needed a glass of water to calm myself. As coming back to senses, “Mother?”, I looked at her raising my eyebrows.

“Surprise…right?”, she began to play with the girl. “Who is he?”, the girl innocently inquired about me. “That uncle…is my friend”, she introduced me as her childhood friend. “Go on, shake hands”, the girl initially refused to even look at me. But, on her mother’s insistence, she stretched her to give me a shake. “Arjun”, I shook her hand with a smile. “Archana”, she smiled back and quickly rushed back to her mother’s lap. “Why don’t play with your friends?”, before she could complete, Archana ran to her friend’s home.

“Who is she?”, I asked her scratching my head. “My daughter”, the woman responded brimming with pride. “She is 5 years old and goes to home school run by nearby orphanage”, she introduced about Archana. “Now, shall we continue?”, she wanted my opinion. “Please…”, I signaled her to start.

“With no hope, I wandered on the streets searching for petty jobs”, she continued her narration. “Did you get any?” I wanted her to say yes. “Yes”, her answer made me smile.

“But …” she shut me down quickly. “But what?”, I was anxious to know what happened. “Everywhere I went, I became an object of ridicule”, her response made me to know even more about her. “The places I stayed had no privacy”, she continued her explanation. “People would barge in at anytime from anywhere”, as she continued. “So what?”, I interrupted her. “I got caught”, she rhymed her answer with a laugh.

“While leaving my home, I snuck one of my mom’s saree to keep me company. One day, I was unable to control my feelings and dressed up in her saree. Unfortunately, I got caught by one of my co-worker with whom I stayed”, she narrated this entire episode in a calm manner. “Then?” I requested her to continue. “Usual things began. They began to abuse and call me words. No one was willing to talk and they distanced themselves”, her explanation revealed how much pain was inflicted upon her.

“This continued everywhere I went. People would either notice my feminine behavior (or) the saree in my bag and then usual abuse continued.” She was thrown out the moment they found her out. “How did you end up here?” I wondered what made her to come here.

“Death”, she gave a cryptic answer. “Death?” I requested to elaborate more. “With no place, I began to sleep on platforms at nights. As each day passed, only the money I saved from work got spent. The number of times I ate reduced to NIL over the days”” she explained her poverty. “Were you unable to find any job?” I stressed upon it. “No, I did not”, her efforts to find a job were rubbished. “One such night, while walking on the pavement I collapsed due to hunger. While lying on the pavement, I saw 3 blurred faces running towards me to help. Next day, when I woke up I was here”, she pointed towards the street.

“Who were they?”, I put forth my question wanting to know more. “Those 3 women were living here and working as… you know”, I understood what she meant and nodded.

“That’s how you began your new life?” I wanted to confirm with her. “Kind of” she was cryptic again. “What do you mean by that?”, I requested to explain again. “Same as you, I was disgusted to be here and left immediately. But, the society made me come here again” she explained that no were willing to give her job and she returned back with no choice. “Once again my mom to came my rescue here”, she showed the loose end of her saree gesturing that the one she is wearing was her mother’s. “How it… “, just as I was about ask her. “Felt? the begging?”, she completed it. “Yeah”, I answered back. “Initially I felt bad, the hooting and abuses. Now I am used to it”, her voice suggested she has come to terms with her current life. “Yeah, that must have felt worst initially”, she laughed hysterically looking at me. “Worst?… I told I felt bad. You have not heard the worst part?”, her answer meant that she had faced something far worse than begging.

“Worst Part?…Do you mean… No way”, it hit me like a thunder regarding what she meant. “Yes… you are right”, she said casually. It was my turn again to drink a glass of water to keep my senses in check. “Wait…wait…When? How?” , I asked a barrage of questions. “Easy… Easy…”, she gestured me to calm.

“It all turned from bad to worse in one night”, she continued. “After roaming around nearby area, I walked back without noticing that a drunkard had followed me to my home. Just as I was about to close my door, he pushed me inside and locked the door.”, she continued. “Why didn’t you just shout?”, I asked at her angrily. “Shout?… in here.”, she mocked me. “What were you thinking about this street? Some kind of posh area where rich people who don’t what to do their money stay here”, she made me realize the reality of people who live here.

“Just come here at night, you will hear all varieties of sounds from all houses”, her answer placed the final nail in the coffin. “I tried to push him out”, she began her to narrate that fateful night. “But my actions turned to be futile. He beat me and threw me on the floor. He ignored my pleadings to leave me alone. Then, removed my saree and he… he …”, tears flowed uncontrollably and I quickly stopped her from narrating further more.

“I wanted to die”, she continued controlling her tears. “Just as I was about to hang, I heard a child crying in nearby bin. I went outside to see no one and grabbed the child in my arms” she obviously meant Archana. “That’s really nice of you”, I thanked her for saving the girl. “She saved me”, she reversed my sentence. “She gave me a reason to live and now I am here”, she smiled and explained how the nearby orphanage was kind enough to home school as she does not want Archana to live the same life as hers.

It was 7pm, when Archana came back after playing and quickly sat on her lap. I turned my attention to the girl and asked her few questions. Though hesitant to answer at first, she slowly dropped her guard and gave me cute answers, making both of us laugh. This continued till 8pm and took a photograph of her for the article and thanked her for her time. Just as I was about leave, I saw 2 men coming towards her and started talking about rates. I tried to intervene, but she stopped me and ordered those men to wait outside till she gets ready. I understood she had taken it as a profession for sake of Archana. “I will pay the money, please don’t do it”, I pleaded her not do it. “Will you give me tomorrow? How about the next day?”, she dismissed my sympathies. “Archana, Mummy has some work to do. Why don’t go to your friend’s home. I will come and pick up later”, her words were rebuffed by the girl as she refused to leave her. “Archana… please listen to mummy”, no matter what she tried she met failure.

“I will take care of her. That’s the least I can do”, I stepped in to help her. “Uncle is calling you. Why don’t you roam around with him?”, we both convinced her and I grabbed her hands. “Please come after 90 minutes”, she requested me and ordered those two men to come inside. I took Archana to nearby restaurant and gave her freedom to order anything she wants. Excited by my proposal, she ordered literally the entire menu card and smiled at me. After some 20 minutes, the order was placed on our table. “Thank you Uncle”, she gestured towards me and began to eat. Her unintentional action made me guilty, as I never thanked my mother for cooking. But, I would scold her if the food tasted bad.

After spending 90 minutes, roaming around the area, I took her back to home. I saw the woman in tears and was not able to stand properly. As soon as she saw us, she quickly wiped her tears and sported a smile. She quickly carried Archana on her hip and thanked me my help. I thanked them and started to leave.

As I looked around, it was heart breaking to see all those people suffer for society’s mistake. Especially, the kids whose bright innocent faces were in complete contrast to dark and gloomy street. “What if the society accepted them as they are?”, the question burnt my heart as I walked back to my room. My phone vibration distracted me from my thoughts. It was my mother who was calling to check upon me. I picked up the call, “Yeah, Tell me… MOM”, I used the word which I had long forgotten.

Continued …

Click here to read all the parts of this story

Image Credits: Xossip

If you liked this story, please don’t forget to give your ratings!

free hit counter