puresmiles

Young moon shining cool and bright, Hypnos singing lullaby with his harp, Form of my partner’s loud snores, Chill breeze from my air conditioner, And my soft feather bed, Thus, are my comfort to slumber.   As I rest and dream, Like a princess with glass shoes, And beautiful gowns, There she stands like a beast, As a hassle uninvited, But prompt.   Nay! not a smothering snake or a ghoul, It’s mine own, Without which a women’s beauty is lost, Like wine, ages with time, Long or short, brown or black, rough or smooth, Always a thing of pride, for a woman.   My mane, when all sleeps blissfully with me, One bunch stands, And dances its heart out to my fan’s tunes, Though her stage is always fixed, She lands on my temple or nose, Tickles me to watch her dance. My relentless attempts to stop her, Always a failure and poof! vanishes my sleep, And along with it my glass shoes and gowns, Alas! Wish I could stop her!

 ‘Matchi I finally got her a helmet, yesterday. The one that she fancied was pink in colour. Price was too high, that stupid shop guy refused to reduce even 1Rs. I didn’t have enough money, somehow gave all the change that I had in my wallet and bought it’. Shankar spoke loud over the head phones that he was wearing while riding his fancy bike, as he stood waiting for the red signal light to turn green. He kept accelerating his bikes speed as if he was in a hurry to leave. Shankar had just bought his girl friend a helmet, so that she could travel hassle free on his bike concealing her identity from the onlookers or people who could recognize her. Shankar pestered his mother, a bank cashier and a single mother to buy him that fancy bike. It costed her a huge loan, and made it difficult for both ends to meet. Nothing bothered Shankar except the thought that he could now take his girlfriend happily for long drives on the East Coast Road. His bike shinned in the bright sunlight, as he wait

It was a noisy club. The dance floor was filled with young boys and girls jumping to tunes, on a busy Saturday evening. It was Rakesh’s first visit to a club. His excitement knew no bounds. The loud music, girls, drinks, everything was new. For a boy from Madurai, who had just landed an IT job in Bangalore, women dressed in minis and jeans were a delight to his eyes. Rakesh sat in a corner, as he sipped his mocktail, while his friends joined the dance floor. He refused to join them, stating he doesn’t know to dance, which was a lie. His name would always be the first name on the list of his college dance team. But somehow, he felt shy that day. As he watched his friends dance, a young girl almost his age came and sat next to him. She had a glass of whisky and looked drunk. She wore a pink tunic with blue jean shorts, with a boot which suited her perfect figure and fair complexion. ‘is it your first visit to a club?’ Rakesh was surprised and the conversation began. She took him to the d

The body of a young boy in his 20s wrapped in a dirty white blanket was lying on the stone table, amidst the stench of cadavers and phenol smell. Gopi sat at the table near the body, and ate his breakfast with no qualms, not bothering about the sounds of the parents of the dead boy. This was his job, he worked in the morgue, day in and day out he was used to seeing blood, dead bodies, and gory scenes of victims, but nothing deterred him. ‘Gopi how many times have I told you not to eat here. How can you eat with this smell and a dead body?’ Dr Gautham, a trained pathologist, was in charge of the autopsy that day. ‘what’s the case?’ ‘head injury, skull damage, half his head is missing and he washed his hands after closing his tiffin box. ‘ok’ and Gautham examined the body from a distance, he asked Gopi to perform the autopsy while he watched. ‘ok I will give the report’. Gopi sat on his chair and didn’t bother about the wailing outside of the victim’s mother. This was his routine for the

‘Did you know Rathnavelu died yesterday night?’ ‘Then what time is the party?’ ‘Tonight, as usual.’ Aaradhana old age home was buzzing with happiness with the thought that one of their inmates had died the previous night. Aaradhana was not like this a month back. It was the gloomiest place anyone could ever visit. Inmates were unhappy about staying there in spite of the fantastic ambience and maintenance. Most of the inmates were waiting to die. The fear of death deep instilled in them. It all changed with Ragu, another inmate. Rahu was admitted to Aaradhana in spite of having 3 sons once his wife died, he was a burden to his sons and so he landed there. Ragu was a happy man. He took life as it is. But on seeing his friends who always cribbed about their state and that they were scared of death, was always bothering him. One day Ragu tripped and fell unconscious. The in-house doctor said there was nothing to worry about though he gained consciousness, he played a trick. He acted uncons

I have been thinking of this one kiss, from our childhood. How would you kiss, the passion, the and before she could finish Praveen had held her and kissed her lip, for a second, she moved back pushing him away, but, quickly came back to continue what he had started like a magnet. Laura and Praveen were 1 st cousins, they could have married, had Laura’s mother not converted herself to Christianity. Things didn’t work out their paths diverged, they were both married and had a family. Her project at Bangalore, the lockdown and the stay away from family pushed Laura to meet Praveen after many years. After many days of talking over the phone and meeting, they met. Praveen bit her lips and she moaned. She quickly turned to leave. Better I leave or we would not have any control, she thought. Praveen hugged her tight from behind and kissed her ears, which tickled her. She wondered why doesn’t her husband love her like this! He slowly pushed her dress off her shoulder, and kissed her, his han

  Arjun drove with sweat trickling down his shirt and making it wet. Angela’s boutique staff had admitted her to the hospital.   They only said Angela was not well and that they had to admit her to the hospital, nothing to worry about. It was the same way his mother had received a call from his father’s office, when he passed away, from a massive cardiac arrest. Fear made him shiver, as he parked his car and rushed towards the reception. He climbed a flight of stairs, 3 floors and finally reached her room. The doctor said excessive bleeding, early menopause, might have to stay put for the night. Arjun was puzzled about what is menopause! Google had many things to explain. The main thing was to be supportive, love and care for the person, as their body is already under a lot of pressure. As he entered, he mustered a smile, greeted, and told Angela that the kids at home are safe and the doctor said there was nothing to worry about, time to take rest. He stroked her hair, tears rolled fro

She rang the doorbell of room number 109. It was on the 8 th the floor of that luxury hotel. Had there been a Blood pressure machine, it would have indicated how tensed she was, her heart beating so fast that it was heard outside. Sanjay opened the door. Sanjay was her ex-boyfriend. Now both were married and had kids. But, as fate would call it both of them were not happy. Sanjay had come to Chennai from Bangalore officially, and they deiced to meet. Once all the greetings and casual talks were over, Sanjana started to weep, saying that they should have got married and not decided to part ways. They would have had a wonderful life together. In the process of consoling her, his long-lost passion for her peeped out. She hugged him and he reciprocated. In no time they kissed passionately and Sanjay bit her lips which she loved and it aroused her further. The thought that nobody would know what happened inside those four walls or that this might bring some sort of console to their love-los

It was way past 1 in the wee hours, Nikkitha and Surya stood on the terrace of the Housing board colony. Half-eaten cake on the parapet wall, cream on Surya’s face, hands clung together with lips locked. That terrace had more memories than the number of clothes which were left for drying. Tears rolled down Surya’s eyes. Nikkitha had left him once in for all, chose another man for her life, to make her happy, to give her kids and live with her. Rakesh and the other boys were busy filling a glass bulb with acid. They clearly instructed Surya that she deserves punishment and that throwing acid on her face would be the easiest way. By early morning they heard music from Nikkitha’s house, it was her betrothal day. The boys gave him a pep talk, before passing on the acid-filled bulb. On seeing Nikkitha, Surya threw the bulb, not on her but in a dustbin near her. Tears rolled and he told Rakesh, ‘how can I hate a woman whom I loved more than my life?’

Shantha wanted to cut the big, beautiful, Rain tree or in Tamil Toongumoonji Maram, which she felt was a nuisance right before her house, also some stupid belief that this tree was inauspicious. Shantha could not see the beauty of the lovely pink flowers that Vikram her husband and Meera her daughter saw. The duo used to sit out on the balcony and talk for hours together about different topics; they felt the tree was a part of their conversation. One day Vikram died, which came as a great shock for Meera, before the shock could be digested Shantha called the corporation men and chopped the tree fully as she had none to oppose now. Meera missed both the tree and her dad. Days passed by and Shantha ensured that the tree never grew back. After a few years when Shantha had grown old and didn’t have much energy to check her garden, Meera found a small sapling of the Rain tree growing right next to the old tree. By the time Shantha died, the sapling grew into a small tree. Maybe nature has h

Shantha was a government employee and a loving mother of an 18-year-old boy, Ranjith. Shantha’s husband succumbed to cancer a few years back. Those days Shantha’s full attention was on the care of her husband, she was fully aware that she was not able to attend to her son. She was confident that her little prince would understand her situation. But, for the past year, her confidence in the little boy that she knew, that she cared for was weaning. She found cigarette packets in his pant pockets, his friends were not good-mannered. It was worrying her, as she walked toward her house; she believed that her son would not go on the wrong path. That day when she opened her house door, she knew she was wrong, she saw a monster, and her prince was lost. She saw him force himself on a semi-naked girl whose mouth and hands were tied with Shantha’s saree. Tears rolled from her eyes while blood flowed from the Aruvamanai (Vegetable cutter) that she had bought on her way back home.

Julia stepped inside the cosy hotel room in Nuwara Eliya, Srilanka. It was a place which Julia and her husband Raj loved. It was the place which they chose for their honeymoon. 30 years have passed since then; their kids Ron and Becky were mature enough to handle themselves now. This was a much-needed trip or maybe her last trip, the host of diseases that she had may not permit her to travel again. Raj reminded her to take her medicines before lunch. They visited Lake Gregory, a place which had many memories. They sat and talked nothing, but just admired the sprawling vast water body. She spent the most wonderful 3 days of her life that she could cherish even on her deathbed. On the last day of her trip, she smiled at Raj and thought, I loved this trip. The lady at the reception thanked her and cleared her bill, while Julia walked alone to her cab, carrying her favourite book ‘PS I love you'. Love and fate can never be predicted.

  POWER IS IN OUR HANDS “Look at that aunty and the other bike, race and go there” these were the words that I heard from a young child seated on the front side of a bike at a busy traffic signal. The man whom I assume should be his father, quickly moved a few feet away from the stop line and waited ahead of the others.  How many of us teach our children basic things nowadays? Our lives have become so fast-paced, with hundreds of channels and innumerable entertainment at our disposal. We have no time to even talk to our kids, which brings in the fear of how our next generation would be. Just imagine, the ’80s and the ’90s kids, we were told every now and then ‘don’t do this’ ‘don’t go there’, ‘you are not allowed to watch this’, so many restrictions, which I felt was a hindrance then. But now, I feel it’s the rock-solid foundation that my parents have given me.  Today, I am a mother of twin boys, at times when I read in the newspaper that young adolescent boys, rape and murder girl

Tears rolled out of Aravind’s eyes as he banged on the table that he was sitting on, he had lost his mental peace. Pavithra walked away with a smile, a smile that had a sense of achievement and satisfaction. In the IT firm, they worked for Pavithra was a fresher and acted the damsel in distress while Aravind the Cowboy of guns and roses. It was a new gossip, few naughty ones questioned him how he could act a playboy and change girls quickly. He was quite serious this time, he loved her dearly and even wanted to take it a step further, he dreamt of a life with her. Dates, dinners, and shopping like all. Kisses but never more, when he could hold no more and proposed, she refused and said we are just friends nothing more. The next day’s newspaper had a first-year obituary for Paayal - moaners, family members, and friends - Pavithra, Rohan, and Geetha.        

As Mala rode her bike early in the morning towards her office, zip went a bike crossing her like a torrent. She wished she could tell the boy to control his speed for his own safety. There was a quick flashback running in her mind and she heard a screeching sound near the crossroad, her heart beat faster she knew something was wrong. The young biker was on the road with his head bleeding badly, and an SUV speeding fast. Morning sweepers, stood around to see the boy bleed. The loud sound of the ambulance nor the thought that she was getting late to work didn’t deter her from helping the boy reach the hospital and wait until his relatives and friends reached. He was saved, but Mala cried. She wished her son Abijith could have been saved if not for people to just gather around and watch him die, while he bled on the road that fatal day.

  Chandhini’s heartbeat faster than her eyes blinked, as she sat on the neatly made hotel bed. The brown curtains were closed fully, if not for the floor lamp’s light the whole room would be pitch dark. Her mind was racing that this was wrong and she had to stop it immediately and leave that room. Just then the room bell rang. She could hear her heart load and clear, her new Black XS perfume mixed with her sweat and emitted a different smell, she opened the door. The man barged inside and kicked the door close. He held her tight and kissed her lip, before she realized it, they were in bed. She knew she wanted it badly, she couldn’t control it. It was pure ecstasy, as she moaned and enjoyed every minute until she was totally exhausted. The man came closer and said so do I get paid for this? And they both laughed. Finally the idea of making Rakesh a call-boy, to work out their 15years marriage succeeded! It was the end to the endless arguments and thoughts of divorce between them.      

  Here is my new collection of Bijou stories . Bijou just means short, small, kutty. Yeap! in today's world we don't have time to sip our cup of tea peacefully, where will we have time to read. I have a strange feeling that the habit of reading will soon become a dinosaur, extinct. Lending libraries used to be fun in my days, where we kids used to fight for books. Today's kids hate to read, where will they go to libraries. Maybe like these web series and movies show today's kids would prefer the library for some romance, quiet place no disturbance. Well yeah ! jokes apart. I am planning to adapt to this kindda writing for few more days, let's see how you like it.   One thing is for sure, thanks to my dear buddies who kept pushing me to write more and change my writing style to suit today's taste buds. Well, hope you guys find time to read. Until next time cheers!

I had a dream, To wake up in the morning, without thoughts of work, To get ready to work, without thoughts of my manager, To dress up neatly, without thoughts of my colleagues, To eat my food at ease, without thoughts of carry over work, To wave my family good bye, without any thoughts of the late night return, I had a dream. I had a dream, To drive my vehicle, without thoughts of the day’s meetings, To greet a colleague, without thoughts of his early coming, To sit in the workstation, without thoughts of the work burden, To check mails, without thoughts of receiving a stinker, To smile cheerfully, without thoughts of the work to begin, I had a dream. I had a dream, To smoke my cigarette, without thoughts of the unfinished coding, To eat delicious lunch, without thoughts of the new projects, To think of onsite work, without thoughts of long line of competitors, To work smartly, without thoughts of the deadlines to meet, To chat with friends, without thoughts of t

  Come ye all sweet forties, Like the Asp that killed black beauty, Like the make-up artist of Titanic Rose, Like the artists who love to paint wrinkles, Come ye all sweet forties.   To ridicule me,    For young maidens to beckon as aunty, For cloth store salesmen to say it’s not of my age, For beauty products to queue up one after the other, Come ye all forties.   Come, for if I say no, thou shalt not retreat thy path, Come ye battalion of diseases, Come ye dark circles and sleeplessness, Add on to the pain of hot flushes and irregularity, Come ye all forties.   Come all ye forties, For my best friend shall be the night mirror, For she like a loyal dog hides all my physical flaws, Shows me all but young beauty, I care not, Come all ye forties.   Nay I fear not, Like the stars of tinsel town, I shalt never cross 39, I shalt forever be young like them, Come ye forties for I fear not.   Come ye forties, For they say life beg