About Her

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Little Moments Of Bliss is a silhouette of a feeling that resides in my heart. A software engineer by degree, a writer at heart, and a teacher by profession, I'm all that I never thought I would be. Pretty pictures,a poem that blatantly refuses to rhyme, a text from a deranged friend, a sudden gesture of love, its these little things in life, that matter and sprinkle bliss. Grace the couch and share a cuppa!

August 18, 2012

When The Red Light Goes Out.

When the red light goes out, a parallel world gets in. The kind that is well guarded and well measured, except to the customers that pay. There exists a story of great mystery and intrigue, for this is the world that trades lust for money.

They come,
They go,
leaving behind some debris,
some pain,
some money.

Looking every bit like a desperate Indian bride, she battled her self-esteem and walked into the room. It smelt foul; like a chemical; like sex. The fear, the turmoil, the storm inside her heart that used to resurface whenever she climbed the staircase to this room had settled. The tasteless decor of red velvet was sprawled across the tainted bed. The walls were a nude yellow and the paint was fresh. She missed the old chapped landscape of the room. It recognized her and she didn't bore any shame in baring all in front of them. They seemed to absorb what was left of the excruciating pain she once felt. At first, the burns on her face seemed to repel him but still he unhooked her bra and got down to business. He knew his pocket allowed him only 200 an hour and this was the the only brothel in town that was eager to serve his needs at this price. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were vaguely visible. She wondered if he had any kids or if he was married at all. Apart from all those lustful glares, she thought she saw a glimpse of a clumsy kind man who pitied her condition, but very well knew that he couldn't do much about it. She liked the ones who pitied her, a tear or two made sure they were back within a week. He paid to spend an hour of desperation with her, and to her he would always remain a capable client who could afford her rate and whom she had to please in every possible manner so that he frequently comes back asking for more.

His hesitant polite manner told her that he was not one of those demanding customers who extracted worth out of every minute that they were paying for. As soon as he climaxed, he slid off her chest. It had only been twenty minutes but he started dressing himself. 'Naam kya hai tera ? Agle hafte fir aaunga' (What is your name ?, I'll come again next week). His voice caught her off guard and he was no more the shy stranger. She muttered her name under her breath. With an awkward demeanor he kept the two folded hundreds on the edge of the bed and turned to leave. 'Agar use pata chala ki maine tumse paisa liya hai to mujhe maar daalega' (He would tear me into pieces if word of my ever touching a cent of that money got to his ears). Now she knew, he was a novice.

He looked at her with an almost guilty expression and picked up the money. Apart from the faded moaning, this was the first of what she had ever spoken to a client, she never wanted to; she never had to. Their ignorance towards her feelings had made her strong and she intended on carrying on this strength within her forever. People had been calling her profession dirty and shameless, the irony was that the ones who paid for having sex with her had no dirt on their collar, all of it was served on her platter. She got off the bed, changed the bed sheet and prepared herself all over again looking like an Indian bride for another 200 an hour companion.

She felt sleepy and thought she would call it a night after this one. It had been six long months but still she was never able to entertain more than three men in one night. She knew this was her weakness and that it cost her a lot of money when compared to all the other ladies. Her employer called in after a couple minutes informing her that there weren't any more men asking for her that night.

She fed her baby, ate her dinner and slept a dreamless quiet night.

Government of India has listed prostitution under its list of victimless crimes. Is it really a victimless crime ? If no, who is the real victim?

August 17, 2012

Tamarind City - Where Modern India Began : A Book Review.

Title: Tamarind City – Where Modern India Began
Author: Bishwanath Ghosh
Publisher: Tranquebar, Westland Publishers
ISBN: 978-93-81626-33-7
Genre: Non-Fiction
Pages: 315
Source: Publisher
Rating: 4/5

'While in other big cities tradition stays mothballed in trunks, taken out only during festivals and weddings, tradition here is worn around the year'

This is how Bishwanath Ghosh has described India's Tamarind City in this adventure of a book. I am not much into Non-Fiction travel genre but thanks to BlogAdda, it might soon become a favorite. It may seem as just another book describing a busy city at first but when you stat getting the gist of it, you'll know it is much beyond that. The author has lived through every word written on the pages of this travelogue. Bishwanath Ghosh has explored the many known and unknown facts about the city, its history, the wide variety in the nature of the people, from ghosts to pictures of yesteryear's filmstar Rekha with her step sister. In short, this book is all that you thought it would be and much more. You might notice that the explanation and research is not very exhausting, fine details are mentioned but they do not interrupt your virtual tour of the city.

The marriage of tradition and technology is what defines this city in the exact words of the author. I'd rather say it is the love child of this knot.

Ghosh successfully displays a vivid range of emotions that this city might carry deep in its heart. He sometimes talks about it as a muse and sometimes as a lover. The modern and traditional aspects of the city have been highlighted very well by Ghosh without favoring any purposely. He also says that there are many misconceptions that burden the shoulders of this city, and many of them fail to possess any solid grounds favoring their truth.He has not forgotten to mention the fact that Chennai is one such metropolitan that is taking its time to evolve and grow. This book is a live portrait of what Chennai is all about for those who have never been to this part of our country's diversified culture. To put Chennai in a summary form, I would say, it is a city that educates, entertains, survives and thrives. The flowershops, temples, beaches and women drawing kolams outside their houses give it a mass appeal.

Not spoiling the book's raw appeal any further for you, I would strongly like to recommend this book to those who would like to know more  about this Tamarind City.

And at the end, I'd still rather call it Madras.

About the Author [Source : Internet]

Bishwanath Ghosh was born on 26 December 1970 in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, where he began his career as a journalist before moving to New Delhi to work with Press Trust of India and The Asian Age. In 2001 he relocated to Chennai where he spent seven years at The New Sunday Express and three at The Times of India. He is currently a deputy editor with The Hindu. In 2009 he wrote the bestselling travel book, Chai, Chai: Travels in Places Where You Stop But Never Get Off, also published by Tranquebar.

This book was received as a part of Blogadda's Book Review Program. Sign up for the Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers.
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August 4, 2012

Getting Published (SpringTide.in)

This might not be as big a news to you as it is to me, but I believe in something different. Everything that happens to us for the first time always deserves a special mention. So, here it is.
SpringTide.in - An online youth magazine decided to publish I am She in their August issue under the column Politically (In)Correct. I'm elated. I got the mail last month but I wanted to break bread here only after it was all packed and done.

What do you think ?

August 2, 2012

Coloring it Happy.

In case you still check out this space, I have a confession to make. I would be lying if I'd say I haven't posted anything on my blog recently because I've been busy with work. The truth is that I haven't had any constructive ideas since quite some time now and I promised myself a few weeks ago, that I wouldn't post anything that does not satiate the creative worm residing inside of me. I did not want to slide down the bar that I had apparently set for myself through my work on this blog, or maybe its all inside my mind. Also, publishing a post just because I haven't written in a long time didn't make sense to me. But, what the heck, here's a quick update.

I've been teaching! for 4 months now. This news has proudly made its way into my blog because teaching was never even been the last thing on my to-do list. As a child, every girl when asked 'What would you like to become when you grow up ?' often answered, 'Teeeaaaacheerr'. But never me. I always said 'I don't know about that, what I do know is that I'd definitely be an MBA someday.' I liked how the degree sounded sophisticated without making much effort. Well, its an unfulfilled dream as of now but more on that later. Back when I joined the school, I literally loathed every minute of it. I was this miserable little kitten who always wore a smile because she was too pompous to let her colleagues gather any tid-bits about her sob story and that those nauseatingly happy students shouting at the top of their voices gave birth to a sharp throbbing in her head.

My first salary check arrived sooner that expected, but unlike what I thought, it did not make much difference. None of my fellow teachers are my age, they're all married and settled, but the glad part is the gossip. They gossip about everything under the sun, from sex to scum, all of it. You might think this story ends with me confessing my undying love for God's little angels, but it doesn't. They still have the power to make me want to strangulate myself at any minute of the day by shouting their lungs out. The only thing that has changed is that I no more think that doing something I don't entirely love doing is the worst thing that could have happened to me. I know, I always end up talking discreetly about my thought-process whenever I do a post like this, but I don't know, maybe its how life functions, or maybe its just how I function. I always have a rendezvous with optimism but only after pessimism has robbed all things happy off of me.

I've been buried neck deep in my pile of unread books and that is helping me a great deal in keeping my sanity safe and secure.
Ah! The things I do, to catch a good read at an odd time.

PS - I know I haven't been replying to your comments lately, my sincerest apologies. I promise I shall be back on track soon. Also, I have an awesome news to share with you all. I, am a happy bird and you, wait until next time. Love.