My Space

  “You get the best beef burgers in this outlet, Akash. They may not be as good as they are your side, but you won’t regret it.” “No problem, Alisha. But if the meat isn’t as per my liking, I will surely have an opinion on it and you might get to hear it till her flight arrives, tomorrow night. Works?” “Baap re, I’m scared. Let’s order a veg burger instead. Let’s pin the criticism on the green dot, then.” Akash dramatically nodded his head in a traumatized no. His expression growing graver with each nod. “No points to you for overacting. Come. Let’s go. This is the only evening we have. Tomorrow, Opal will be back and we won’t be able to do our hangouts.” Opal was Akash’s girlfriend, a self-proclaimed South Delhi fashionista who liked to sport famous brands in clothes and jewelry. She was the daughter of Shrutika Kataria, a rags-to-riches socialite single-mother who had built her own brand of rings. Fate led her to cross paths with a Hyderabad-based engineer who worked ...

  His frail and fragile frame sat on his lone cot. The apple that lay in his dish was slowly browning. Still good enough to consume, yet not desired. The 80-year-old Kishore Garodia sat by his bedside nursing himself back from an upset stomach. His water consumption was measured. Anything in excess of a litre would lead him to lose the essential electrolytes he needed to preserve his aging frame. Rakshit, the intern from the government hospital, saw the ORS missing from the table. It triggered in him a surge of concern that came out as anxiety, and a checklist that was reinforced repeatedly by his medical college HOD. “No, no tell me. Should I ask the staff to get you ORS?” Kishore looked on calmly. The only answer he could give was a muted no. He lacked the strength to placate the young doctor’s fretful tone. “Your doctor’s prescription, Kishoreji, I hope you have everything that is on it?” Geeta, the caretaker interjected with the better intention of taking stock of the situatio...

  “You won’t be using this extra iron will you? Then I will keep it.” Kavita claimed ownership of the iron even before Anita could reply. Anita and her husband Shyam were cleaning their home for Diwali. A lot of unnecessary and unused utensils that were stashed away were removed. And Kavita, their neighbour always developed a need for anything they didn’t want. Later, over a cup of chai , they talked. “She’s grown up in a frugal home, Anita.” “Who?” “Kavita, of course. Didn’t you find her acting strange?” Anita raised her brows and nodded quickly in assent. “Yes, it did look a little over-the-top and unnecessary. She’s doing a job and getting a good salary. Then why this financial insecurity?” “Like I said, her frugal life. Her mind is trained to fear scarcity. I am sure she must hoard a lot of unwanted things in her home out of the sheer fear of losing them.” “That’s not a happy place, Shyam,” Anita concluded. “One should always express gratitude for what they have...

  “I think I’ll switch jobs yet again.” Brinda thought to herself. Her backstage work as a designer’s apprentice was quite thankless. She kept getting pushed around by models who thought they were Aphrodite herself. And the designer tantrums were another story. “This industry is so fake. I thought I would create a revolution with my designer choices, but I’ve become just a flunky to all these entitled twats. I’m soon losing my own identity. Cannot do this for long.” “No problem. Just this last show and we’ll see what else we can do. You just hang in there till then.” Ajay placated her after listening to her tirade. They had been the best of friends for five years and had recently taken their friendship to the next level by becoming 3AM buddies. He was her go-to person when she needed to take a decision that would lead to a big change. Brinda headed back to the workshop and looked at the delicately woven dresses. Mrs. Rita Khanna, the designer would throw a fit even if a stran...

  The grand mirror in their walk-in closet saw them standing side by side—he was checking the fit of his Armani blazer one last time, before leaving, and she touching up her lipstick again trying to match it closer to her cocktail dress. They drew each other closer, not so much out of fondness but to see how they looked together, as a couple. They had to make a lasting impression, and an impeccable one . Milan Kothari, a successful businessman, was to attend a Diwali party at the mansion of another big-wig. The who’s who of the city would be there. Any misstep would deliver a huge blow to his carefully curated image. His wife, Amisha Kothari, dutifully allied with him through the optics.   “I believe in results. Excuses are for losers.” His chest puffed with pride upon getting yet another audience in the party, where he could talk about his achievements. He talked about fast-tracking his way into success by his sheer intelligence and out-of-the-box thinking.” Alina, another co...

"People tell me I was born laughing and haven't stopped till date. Hehehe!"  "Really Mr. Kazrai?" asked Dr. Waria "So that's what keeps you going so strong even at 90." "Yes. I plan to do a full century. Keep a good stock of funny jokes. Your last one's gave me a blocked artery." Maarega kya (planning to kill me or what)?  " Marey apke dushman (May your enemies die) ." All of five feet tall, he trudged out of the clinic, his frail knees struggling to support his protruding belly. India had been his home since he knew what a home was. His ancestry was rooted somewhere in Iran, a memory blurred with the passage of time. Back to three generations, his family lived in a modest home in Surat, the only family he was aware of. Early days were not easy. the bent man was once a lively youth seeking to make his mark in the world. Born in poverty, his home would frequently be darkened by power cuts, water cuts and a breakage here and t...