#desi stories

[harinishivaa]

Chapter 3: Inner Ramblings (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

Links to:

Prologue- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/741119072854573056/prologue-sambandham-war-of-hearts?source=share

Chapter 1- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/741675299243261952/chapter-1-starting-fresh-sambandham-war-of?source=share

Chapter 2- https://www.tumblr.com/harinishivaa/743447339726995456/chapter-2-picturesque-sambandham-war-of-hearts?source=share

******

Two weeks later

Chennai, Tamil Nadu

"Thiju!"

Kshithija's eyes met Nila's bright, lucid eyes, shining with an excitement that the former was sure was reflected in her own eyes. Nila had matured even more, her hair in a loose ponytail, long, swishing around behind her back in her excitement. Her beauty had a glow to it, the glow that only romantic feelings acknowledged, accepted and returned could give one.

Had Aditya asked her out?

Kshithija thought all of this, as she embraced her sister tightly. Nila often felt like a part of Kshithija's heart, an integral part of it. Without Nila, her heart would not be complete, just like without Arun, her heart had no blooming. Even through the harsh rejection, and the many years it had been since she had been in anything more than vague and distinct contact with him and his family, he still ran through her heart and veins, like he had never left it.

And he hadn't. She had tried to be as with-the-flow in healing as possible. Though loving him from many thousand miles away was very different from loving him when in close contact. And she doubted the intensity between them would have died down; in fact, if she could hazard a guess, it was going to be much more intense. More than it had ever been.

How she could guess that she had not divined yet, but she knew her gut too well to doubt it anymore.

"What is it, Vaandu?" Nila asked very affectionately, giving Kshithija a knowing look, tinged with some shyness rare in her.

"Did you end up getting a date, Akka?" Kshtihija whispered, not wanting her uncle, who she had embraced earlier to hear just yet. The delightful blush on Nila's face, splashing across her bronzed skin told Kshithija that Aditya had finally asked Nila out. "Oh! He finally asked you out then."

"He did," Nila agreed, the dark blush filling her cheeks, as she looked at Kshithija, the latter smiling brightly.

"What great news to get as I return, Akka. May you always always be happy," Kshithija wished her cousin, hugging her once more, before both grabbed the suitcases and wheeled it to the car, Kshithija more than ready to return home, to the safety of the place she grew up in.

Kshithija was curled up in her favourite nook on the first floor of her house, the couch as comfortable as her usual bean bag back at London. She looked at the book open on her lap, smiling at the worn out pages. She had read this multiple times for comfort, and somehow felt the urge to pick up the book at that moment.

If she thought deeply, she would know why she was in this state; it had everything to do with Arun, with having to meet Arun again. Maybe not immediately, but they ran in very similar social circles, that meeting him socially would happen at some point. Further, the closeness of the two families also guaranteed that she would have to meet him in informal family gatherings.

Since the loss of her father, her Periappa and Sundar uncle, Arun's father, had bonded even more. While both had been close before, the loss of Appa had sealed the friendship in a deeper, more instinctual way than ever before. When they teamed up, it was known that they could win any argument. Given that she was still the heir of her father's company, and Arun was going to be Managing Director eventually, she suspected matchmaking endeavors.

Would she be able to deal with them? She was after all well aware of the ways this set up will happen. And worse, if Iramathi wanted it to happen even now. Kshithija's affection for Iramathi had not receded by any means, and she was aware she was often a pushover, especially with people she loved. But one thing she had gotten with clarity during her time away was perspective.

Iramathi was loving, but she was also not above pushing people together if she thought it would help her family and the mega empire they ran. Aditya could be ruthless sometimes, despite being gentle as well when needed, though it was not the case every time it was needed. Paavai was a little firecracker, and her two brothers often spoiled her, which often gave her a sense of superiority, despite the genuineness that ran in her. Kalyaani was quiet, but could be very cunning when needed. And Arun...

Arun was more morally righteous and truthful than any of his siblings. But he also had a habit of not trusting anyone easily, despite having known them for a long time. While there was nothing wrong with being cautious, there was wrong with actually believing rumours more than the friendship that had been shared for many years.

She sighed to herself. This was the exact path she did not want herself in, and she had, of course found herself venturing into it. Being a psychologist could not prevent her from completely getting over her overthinking habits, it could only help her understand who could advise and guide her through it, leading to healing.

What was she to do though, if such a situation came up?

"Thiju!"

Kshithija was bought out of her thought spiral by her younger brother, who bounded in and plopped down next to her. They were best friends, having only one and a half years between them.

"Yes Kumara?" she asked, playfully rolling her eyes, giggling at his mock offended look. "What do you need me for, mischief maker?"

"Thiju, we both know that you are the biggest mischief maker between the two of us," he nudged her, making her laugh in agreement, responding, "That is a secret!"

The two siblings basked in the cheerful silence, before Kumaran again broke it.

"The social events of the year are starting, Thiju. In about a month," Kumaran announced. Kshithija knew well that he was aware that she had kept herself informed of all this.

"And?"

"And, Periappa hopes you would join us this time," Kumaran said softly. "But you must know..."

"Arun will be there," she sighed softly. She took in the concerned look her brother threw at her, and squeezed his arm, saying, "Well, I will have to meet him at some time, don't I?"

andha vezham nokkida, ingu thaazhai nokkida, oru mouna kaaviyam pirakka

******

Glossary:

andha vezham nokkida, ingu thaazhai nokkida, oru mouna kaaviyam pirakka- That elephant approached, as did the thaazham flower; that meeting gave birth to a silent epic of sorts.

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena Please let me know your thoughts!

[ramayantika]

Usha Lakshmi Gargi Ratri Saraswati Rati

Aditi

It's 9am. I am at my father's place for my Godh bharai ceremony, now widely referred to as baby shower parties. I still prefer to use Godh bharai instead of baby shower. Godh bharai means to fill the lap of the mother-to-be with abundance. She is gifted with sarees, jewellery fruits, baby toys, baby clothes and lots of blessings for the upcoming newborn.

I am standing in front of the mirror. This is the same mirror where my mother used to get ready for school. She was a teacher. This is the same mirror where she used to tie my plaits for school, and this was the same mirror where I pretended to be a 90s bollywood heroine in my teens. This is the same mirror where I got ready for one last time before leaving my parents house as a bride. Now, I am back here as an expectant mother.

Maa passed away two years ago. After I got married, she would constantly pester me with questions about her future grandchildren though in a teasing and light hearted way. She was the first one who advised me to have kids when my husband and I felt ready for it instead of giving in to pressure and conceiving right away.

But look how fate played its move. My mother passed away and I couldn't even give her the happy news. Sometimes I wish I had conceived early so my mother could have seen her grandchildren. She could be with me and witness the journey of my motherhood. But she isn't alive. Maybe she is around me, and her energy still exists around my house, around this mirror, but she isn't standing here in flesh and blood. She will never touch my pregnant stomach and feel this little one's kicks. She can't compliment my pregnancy glow on my face.

I have a lovely mother-in-law. She has treated me like the daughter she never had. She has taken care of me all this while. I remember her excited little jump in the living room when I broke the news that I am pregnant. She hugged me tight and touched my flat stomach and clearly instructed, "No more moving around much. Whatever you need, whatever weirdest strangest craving you get, you will call my son, and if that idiot makes a face, immediately call for me!"

Baba was ecstatic on getting to know that he was going to be a grandfather. He wished me well, but just before ending the call, he said, "I wish your mother was here too. She would have been so happy to see her little girl be a mother." That day, I had shed a few tears while looking at my mother's photograph.

"Beta, are you ready? Pandit ji has arrived," Baba says, standing at the doorway. His eyes for a brief moment drift down at my heavy seven month stomach. I smile and say, "Baba, chill. I am carrying your grandson. You don't have to be this awkward."

He laughs and scratches his head. "Yes, I get it. Now, come down." He lends his arm and looks at me. I hear him slowly mutter under his breath. "Kash Anju hoti..." Anjana, my mother.

Everybody stop their chitter chatter and fix their gaze on me. My friends and cousin sisters, clear up the sofa and make space for me to sit. My eyes move to my husband who is staring at me just the way he saw me during our first date. Damn, am I looking this beautiful even now? He quickly comes near me and kisses my cheek, whispering, "You look lovely, meri jaan. I hope this little munchkin did not trouble you inside."

Giggling quietly, I reply, "Not at all. No morning sickness today and no Ronaldo kicks to trouble this beautiful mummy."

I hear my father clear his throat which makes my husband jerk away from me causing me to breakdown into laughter again.

An hour has passed. Pandit ji got over with the puja. Everyone has started gifting me things the baby and me. My father-in-law gifted me a beautiful pink saree which I am hundred percent sure that this was mummy ji's choice. He also places a baby shirt on my lap. He wants a grandson, I have always known this.

Next, I see mummy ji come and place a fruit basket and a cute baby frock on my lap. Now, she never had her own daughter, so she wants a granddaughter. Baba joins next and gifts me a salwar suit and books for alphabets and numbers. He wants the child to be a genius. He then opens a bag, and looks at the package. It looks old -- maybe a year or two. His eyes fill with emotion, as he places them on my lap. "Your mother had bought it much before and had even gift-wrapped it. Maybe she knew..... Open it afterwards." He lovingly pats my head.

My friends and other older women whisper blessings and fun teasing rhymes for the baby. Some of my friends dance on bollywood songs for a while. The environment feels blissful. Absolutely perfect.

"Am I late to bless the new mother-to-be?" I hear a voice from behind. Turning back, I see a beautiful lady in a green kanjeevaram saree. Her hair was elegantly donned in a bun adorned with a gajra. She looked old like around mummy ji's age, but her face, her aura felt different. Something godly.

I look at everyone. Nobody looks at this new lady. They wave at me, but don't even bat an eyelid at the woman behind me as if she is invisible to them. Confused, I ask, "Auntie, I am very sorry. I can't recognize you. Mummy ji hasn't told me anything about you."

"Would you want a poetic introduction or a straightforward one?"

Mentally I responded to her question with huh???? I answered with a sheepish smile, "A straightforward one would be good for now."

The woman laughs and answers, "Straight to the point then. Devamata Aditi."

I was almost about to drop the saree I was holding in my hand. Stuttering, I ask, "Dev- devamata. The mother of the Gods. A-aditi. A goddess."

Devamata sits beside me, and holds my hands. Maternal warmth fuses in her touch. "Well, I also have to bless new mothers now. You all are bringing new souls to this mortal realm. It's a big job!"

I can feel my cranial nerves shortcircuit. I am dreaming right? Right? This can't be true! The hormones have messed up my head. I am seeing things which also explains why none of my family members nor the guests are seeing Aditi.

"Relax, my child. I am really Aditi, and you are perfectly same. Devamata can always cast her illusion around. Come on, my son Vishnu, your favourite God does it half of the time." She hugs me gently. I feel warm loving maternal energy surround me and around my unborn baby. It feels as if maa is here.

Devamata touches my chin and says, "I know you miss your mother. Her soul is eternal, and souls always come back. Stories go on."

She places a lovely green saree on my lap. The borders are embroidered with golden threads. The glitter on the saree looks like twinkling stars. A fabric stitched from the Universe itself!

"Blessings from a mother to another one. May your child be born with good health and be surrounded with infinite love and happiness, dear one." She pats my back just like my mother used to do whenever I had any important event. My eyes moisten at the corners in happiness.

"Thank you, Maa." I hug her tighter.

****** ******* ***** ********* ******** ****** ****

2 months later

"Ma'am please, one last push. You can do it. The baby needs just one last push." I hear the doctor's instructions, but I am too tired. The room feels dazed. My eyes are heavy. I just want to sleep.

A soft warm hand on my forehead draws me away from going into tired slumber. I blink and look at the person, thinking it to be one of the doctors on the team.

Only, it is not a doctor. It's the universal mother. My Devamata, Aditi.

Like a tired child, I mutter to her, "Maa, I can't do this anymore. I want to sleep on your lap. It's been hours, since I am here in labour. This is tiring."

Mata caresses my forehead which is probably drenched in sweat. I hear her speak, her voice soft, like a melodious lullaby.

"It's only a little effort, now, sweetheart. You are minutes away from bringing this little one to this world. The little one has to see you, its beautiful caring mother and a loving father. The child has to run around the house like little Krishna and dance like little Radha. Just one push, my love."

I shake my head. Gasping, I ask, "Can't you take care of it Mata? You are a goddess. Let me sleep, please. Get my baby out."

The goddess breathes and kisses the top of my head. "I can take care that the baby is born alive and healthy. The action has to be done solely by you. I am a goddess, but foremost a woman and we have been given enough strength to endure this pain of bringing another life into this world. You have nurtured this child in your womb for a while now. Don't you want to hold your baby? I promise, I will show you a cute little Vishnu as a toddler."

That brings some energy back to my body. "Do you promise me that?"

She nods and smiles. Maybe I am hallucinating, but I see a lone tear drip down her smile. I breathe deeply and gather all the remaining strength and push.

Darkness greets my vision, and I hear a faint murmur. "You did so well, dear one. I am so proud of you. Now, take some rest and see your darling god as a baby."

A large gate opens up leading me to a room. I am not travelling in my bodily form. Probably some astral projection or god knows what form I am in. I can't see my own body, but the sights around.

A sweet baby voice rings in my ears. I turn around and see a cradle kept in the corner of the room. Small dark hands with rosy palms hold the edges of the cradle. I walk near it, my heart pacing with excitement. As soon as I reach the cradle, my eyes land on a most beautiful baby, I have ever seen in my life.

Large doe eyes stare at me brimming with happiness and mischief. His eyes spark with recognition, and he giggles. Baby Vishnu stretches his little fingers, and holds my index finger.

I want to melt into a puddle. This is so cute. This means I will get to hold my baby and feel it touch my fingers too.

"Yes, darling." Devamata enters the room with a toddler running around her legs. "Now, are you happy to see your baby Vishnu?"

I jump around and touch Vishnu's cheeks. He laughs again, and I smile. I hear his baby voice say the word. "Sakhi......"

Devamata peers over the cradle, and gently rocks it. In a minute, Vishnu goes to sleep looking as adorable as ever.

"Mata, can I go back to my baby now?"

"Of course, putri."

I wake up energised. The first thing I see is my husband holding a small white bundle in his arms. His eyes are red with happy tears, and he whispers, "We have a daughter, and believe me or not, her eyes look just like maa." He hands over my daughter to me.

I look at the small baby girl. Her eyes meet mine, and I see a beautiful smile. I bring her close to my chest and kiss her tiny forehead.

She has my mother's eyes!

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･* ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

I have no idea how this is. I don't even know how Devamata came inside my head forget writing about preganancy and motherhood.

I am literally on my period today and here I am writing on giving birth to a baby.

Also I might have tweaked around the actual stories to make you all see and read about baby Vishnu. Besides Devamata would fulfill our desires too so yeah baby vishnu!!!

I am getting cramps or my stomach feels funny now so I will go sleep byeeee. 🌸💖

[barbiepdf]

THERE'S ROMEO AND JULIET SURE BUT THERE'S ALSO

laila majnu

sohni mahiwal

heer ranjha

shireen farhad

dhola maru

desis if you know others please tell me i want to read up on them!

[desisapphicx]

Midnight Ruin

Chapter 1

The woman at the head of the table was adjusting the pleats on her saree, and when she was done, she cleared her throat and drew the attention of her family.

"Before beginning our breakfast, I want to make sure all the preparations have been done for the ball," She said.

"Yes, Amma." answered Pushkar. He sat to her left and his wife Revathy was next to him, perking up at the mention of the ball, she loved parties more like she thrived on them, and probably she could die in one if she had a choice. Sadly, her misaligned priorities sometimes hindered her in parenthood. Not that she didn't love her hyperactive kids, she did, but she could be so unwitting at times, that she would be blind to her kids' needs, this has been one of the few factors for petty squabbles that ensues between her and Pushkar. The two seats next to her remain empty, usually occupied by her twins. The little tots were not the only missing but their Grandpa as well, so his seat opposite Revathy remain untouched. The other seats were filled by two sets of uncles and aunts. Who were just waiting for their moment to speak, but considering how Latha was they'd rather stuff their mouths with delicacies set on the table.

"Did you invite Iyers, their presence is impo-- where is Akanksha?" Latha began imposingly as usual but her question ended in confusion; eyes searching hastily for her daughter. She looked at her son, raising her thick brows in question.

"Um..." Pushkar tried to answer but she stopped him.

"Jaya, ask her to come, now."

"Yes, Amma" said the servant.

Latha was an imperious woman, she demanded everyone's attention as soon as she stepped into a room, such was her tenor. "I don't like this indiscipline," she clicked her tongue; the indignation on her face was so evident. She was scowling at her cutlery when she heard fading footsteps near the stairs, and as her daughter-shaped figure ambled near her view, her scowl deepened.

She took a good look at her daughter, dressed in a mid-length beige Kurti with handwoven golden embroidery running down her neckline and her sleeve cuffs, matching perfectly with her amber-gold cotton silk pants. Akanksha's dark brown hair was parted in middle but gleaned together in a bun at the back, yet few had escaped, now curling around her temple, her black bindi rivaled the mole sitting right at the smiling line of her left cheek. Her golden bangles chimed as she took a seat right to her mother.

When the savory whiff of sambar and the sight of fluffy idlies beckoned to her, she couldn't resist, moreover her stomach was making weird noises of someone starved for eons. She started serving herself when she heard her mother clear her throat. "Do you want it?" She held a piece of idli to her mother, her mother shook her head in disapproval. Akanksha just shrugged--- she was nonchalant about her mother's attitude and so she continued having. Apparently, she was the only one who could stand on her toes with her amma.

"You can continue," She said to her mother.

"I cannot comprehend how dense can you be," her mother exclaimed.

Akanksha paid no mind to it, Latha stared at her for some more time--- going over ways to subdue her daughter, she huffed in annoyance before smoothly transitioning into her placid poise.

"As I was saying, Iyers are important and also some other thing I wanted to say," Latha voiced and the silence that followed was quite extended, a bit too long that even Akanksha's interest piqued, not much, but she lent her ear, anyway.

"I want to invite the Kamats." Akanksha stopped having, piping hot sambar burned her throat as she took a big gulp and her spoon fell on the plate with a loud clank. "What?" She said before adding, "Are you serious? Why them?" She glanced at her brother, trying to understand if he was involved in this utter-ridiculous decision but by the clueless look on his face, she knew not. She looked back at her mother, whose serene face faltered for a moment, the hatred for the family was monumental, it snaked with its bitter venom in all of them, and yet here they were, inviting their foes with gilded smiles.

"The decision is already made, it is not up for debate" She quieted the jabbering room. She motioned for them to start with their tiffin, before looking at Akanksha with a tinge of malice in her eyes and a mocking smile, she said, "You'll be the one hosting"

***

Kesar was tapping to the radio's rhythm on his thin steering wheel, the little pitter-patter on the window pane was blending perfectly with the music streaming into the car. "Should we stop at the tea stall? The weather is good to have a cup, don't you think?" he took a glance at his friend and furrowed his brows.

Akanksha was fiddling with her pearl necklet. Her ears were red and itchy, but she wouldn't give in, she didn't want to feed her nervous habits but her brain was fast in its functioning; sending a stimulus and her hands were quick enough to catch those brain signals and there she was scratching at it, but it yielded no satisfaction whatsoever. Looking at her Kesar was concerned as to what is going on with his good friend.

"What is it?"

"Nothing"

He stared at her for a few moments, "You can tell me"

"Amma has put me in a funny situation" She laughed wryly. She went quiet after that and Kesar hummed for her response, he wanted to prod her into telling him what is bothering her but he knew otherwise.

"Well, how about we have some coffee?"

"Yeah, that would be great" She looked out the window losing herself in the pitter patter of the rain against the car window.

***

For Akanksha, the room was too crowded, but she had to push through it, she greeted a few people on her way, it wouldn't hurt to be polite sometimes. When she made up her mind and settled down at her seating bench, she was overcome with a gnawing feeling of absence, of something familiar yet strange. Her nails traced the doodles etched on the wooden slab and her eyes picked up the vagueness of her thoughts and began searching for that familiarity, and soon they found their way to the lean figure sitting against the column of the banyan tree, the breeze blew through the dark brown tresses and flipped the pages of the book too hastily; the person was struggling to manage between untangling and reading. Before she could see more of it, the curtain was drawn between her and the view. She could hear a distant thank you, and when she pulled herself from her hazed thoughts, the class had already begun.

The lecture was halfway through when there was a knock on the door, and her curly letters came to a halt; the class got mute for a beat before the yammering noises swelled the space. The door was opened to a woman costumed in a burgundy cable-knit sweater and pleated dress pants; her sleeves pulled back to her elbows showed off the gold bracelets and square-dialed watch, and her brown ankle boots were squeaky clean. The image of the woman seemed to have slowly seeped into her mind and when recognition hit her, instantly her gut recoiled with discontent.

After deftly convincing the professor to let her in, Prithvi walked into the classroom. While she made herself comfortable in her seat, she sensed someone watching her and when she turned around she caught a pair of Hazel eyes glaring at her, she couldn't help but smirk at Akanksha. And Akanksha sneered at her. Prithvi laughed it off and started taking notes. When the class was over, Akanksha and Prithvi were the only ones to leave at last. Prithvi made hurried notes, packed her case, and took quick steps toward the door. Meanwhile, Akanksha took all this in and just stared at the other girl's departure, a million thoughts running amuck in her mind. She was still thinking through, the act of inviting Prithvi would be so embarrassing and at the same time infuriating. What made her mother invite their family? What had changed? Guess she would never know, or would she?

***

They were all in the canteen. Most of them had their tiffin carriers opened on their tables and they all ate up their pieces of the meal and shared with their friends here and there, tasting different spices from all the families. Among them, Akanksha sat at her table along with her gang. Kesar was at the canteen counter to fill up his plate of parotta and sabzi, and Padma was mindlessly gazing through the newspaper, bored with the lack of gossip but the article about the exotic perfume caught her attention so her eyes were soaking it up. Shashi, Akanksha's cousin was nowhere to be seen.

"Looks like Shashi is cozying up with the enemy," said Venky. All the friends at the table immediately looked at Akanksha, letting out various sounds of oohs and aahs. They all wanted to see what she would do. And she remained stoic. She was super irritated that's for sure, but she didn't want that anyone to see that she was even bothered by this silly stunt by her stupid cousin. Shashi arrived all smiles at their table and Padma who was now caught up with the scene so far, asked her, "What were you doing with her?" Shashi replied, "Why, of course inviting her to my family ball" Akanksha's wits were off the charts just listening to her cousin but she was unflinching about maintaining her teetering patience for some reason. "Who told you to do that?"

"No one, I wanted to invite her, so I did"

"I am the one who is in charge here, without asking me, how could you invite her?"

"My dad said I could invite whoever I wanted to, and I have heard your mom has okayed inviting the Kamats so I thought, it wouldn't do any harm,"

Akanksha wanted to say so many things but controlled herself. "Well you thought wrong, you cannot invite people without going through me first, I hope that's clear to you, next time use that head of yours for something other than flirting" Shashi's cheeks got red in embarrassment and Akanksha was breathing rapidly, she urgently needed to get out of here. She opened the door of her blue 1950 Buick Road Master, she felt somewhat relieved that she was back to her space, her head leaning back on the car seat, the agitation in her was calming when she heard a knock on her window. Prithvi was there. She motioned to roll down the windows. Why doesn't this end? Thought Akanksha, she rolled her eyes, and complied. "You shouldn't have made such a scene there Princess"

"Mind your own business"

"I would've, if it wasn't about me"

"Whatever you want to preach, do it fast, I am getting late,"

"Your mother should also teach you more about how to be selfless,"

"You-"

"Excuse me, I forgot for a second, with whom I am talking, it must run in your blood to humiliate others"

"Is that all?" Akanksha started her car, and reversing it, and she heard Prithvi calling out from her rear view mirror,

"Go on Princess, run away, being nice doesn't suit you anyways"

Akanksha just took off, not heeding to her.

***

A/N: Ah! after a long time, I am here. Sorry for the delay... As I said before, this story is updated very slowly, I don't even know, if people even read this shit. Anyways, if you find this chapter to be subpar and if you come across any grammatical errors, I am really sorry. I have written this in a rush and I will edit this someday, so whoever is reading this, thank you 💖

P.S: My recent favourite listen is, The Winner Takes It All by ABBA, what's your favourite?

[serenityatnight]

Math tells us the saddest love stories

"Parallel lines were never meant to meet"

"Tangent lines only meet once and grow apart forever"

"Asymptotes get closer and closer but will never be together "

[bobnewbie]

Desi was down in the dumps after receiving an unwanted message. Unlucky for him his boy Nathan was having none of it...

prev

[creatinganewwlife]

“Jaa ab nhi aata, ab tu hi dhoondh mujhe”

-Qais// Laila Majnu

[whatsleftofdishaa]

How I sleep with the fact "Main karu Hari ka chintan, Hari kare meri chinta"

[harinishivaa]

Chapter 1: Starting Fresh (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

Three and a half years later, London

She had done it!

Kshithija had gotten her PhD in psychology, and a license to practice in both the United Kingdom and India, a dream come true for her. She did already have some clients in London, with whom she will be meeting online. At first, she had looked for good spaces across London, wanting to settle there itself, choosing to visit India as often as possible. However, the ill health of her Periappa, who had, along with her Periamma, helped raise her with her dear mother.

Having lost her father at a young age, Kshithija's biggest father figure was her uncle, who did genuinely treat her as his own daughter. She did miss the antics of her brothers and cousins though, and did not want to miss much anymore. Added to that, her dearest cousin Nila had lost her heart to Aditya Vishvanathan, or rather, had finally admitted her feelings to Kshithija, though not to Aditya yet.

The thought of the Vishvanathan family brought with it the trauma Kshithija was slowly healing from, trauma that had not completely gone away. As a psychologist, she knew that healing was not a linear process, but her love for Arun, for the whole family, in fact, had not died down. She doubted it would go away easily, but she had made her peace with him never returning her feelings.

That was the only reason she had agreed to Nila's request that Kshithija meet Iramathi Vishvanathan, the eldest girl in the family. She was well aware of the crush her younger brother Kumaran had on Paavai, the youngest of the five siblings of the family. For their sake at least, Kshithija had to try being friendly with the family once more. She had fought with even Iramathi before she left, and Ira herself had not reached out.

Nila had told Kshithija that, however, Ira was missing the latter, which Kshithija believed. Mostly, at least. Well, nothing like bad experiences to make one bitter, she thought to herself mockingly, scoffing, when her phone suddenly rang loudly, and Kshithija peered at the screen, smiling fondly.

"Nila Akka!" she greeted her elder cousin when she picked it up, her voice finally sounding like bells, a sound that had only recently become more frequent.

"Thiju! Your voice sounds like joy," Nila responded warmly.

"I love you too, Akka. But, what is it, Akka?" Kshithija knew the tonal changes in Nila's voice better than she knew herself.

"Ira wants to talk to you," Nila sighed. It was clear that Nila's barriers of cold politeness was slowly breaking, thanks to her accepting her feelings for Aditya, who had apparently changed over the past three years.

"Why?"

It was sad that Kshithija wanted to know why rather than rejoice that someone from a family she once wished to marry into wanted to talk to her. Additionally, Ira and Lokeshvari, the sister of Deva had been her best friends once upon a time. She missed them, but their closeness with Arun would never have allowed her to heal. She had to put her mental health and heart first.

Not to mention the insane dreams that had started coming to her as she started her PhD, a journey all on its own, giving her proof of things that most would say is fantastical, but things her heart knew was the truth, after three long years of such dreams. It helped that Akshari, one of her best friends, helped confirm Kshithija's theories with her own complimenting ones.

Akshari was one of the few Kshithija had opened up to, Arjun, the third in their trio another one. The latter was one of the few men Kshithija would call her friend, maybe even male best friend. Deva had once been that, but he chose Arun over her.

As expected.

"She genuinely misses you. She and Loka called me in tears almost, Thiju," Nila sighed. "Apparently, the whole family misses you."

"Huh."

Kshithija could not help the scoff that escaped her. As if everyone in the family would miss her. She doubted either of the two brothers, the heartthrob duo of Aditya and Arun would miss her.

"Thiju, I am serious. Arun texted me asking after you."

That caused her to freeze. Arun? Asking after her? She peered at the sky, making sure it had not turned pink, before responding, "But the sky has not turned pink, Akka."

The huff of laughter from Nila told Kshithija that she had hit the mark of amusing her cousin with her now trademark sarcasm. Akshari was to be blamed, Kshithija would teasingly say, though the truth that the latter was the reason Akshari sassed even more was well known in their close circle. Kshithija had become the reason for Akshari to gain more confidence in herself, which delighted the former to no end.

"Thiju, make nice with them, okay? Arun wants to collaborate with Velan industries," sighed Nila once more, to which Kshithija replied, "He wants to collaborate with Anna?"

"He knows brilliance when he sees it."

Kshithija had to accept the truth of Nila's words. Arun's brilliance was well known to those who were as much as his passing acquaintances, let alone to the woman still in love with him despite her best efforts to move on. Arun scouted fresh talents as well, interested, driven individuals who were forthcoming about their passions. That was one of the biggest things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

"I will make nice, Akka. I will not allow the past to come in the way of the future," Kshithija said truthfully, though she had not expected the Vishvanathan family to get so involved with hers once more, despite knowing her sister very much had feelings for Nila. The latter, in fact, had refused to act on it so far, for she was unhappy with how Kshithija had been treated. It had taken Kshithija's convincing Nila that she would be delighted that allowed Nila to be more friendly as before with the younger generation of the family.

"And Arun?"

"And I will be friendly enough with Arun," Ksithija promised, both her sister and herself, though internally she also told herself to not let her still present love for him burgeon out, and to be strong in the face of it. She and Nila continued to talk, making further plans for both their careers, hanging up some time later.

Kshithija sighed, falling into her couch and curling against it, her legs now tucked up in a padmasana position. She closed her eyes, revisiting her dreams once more, knowing that without partially resolving them within, meeting Arun would become a tension filled situation.

********

We have a more reserved Kshithija now, who still is in love but is also healing from the heart break. Who knows that without healing from her previous heart break, she can never be complete friends with the one she is in love with.

Next week, we will see Arun's point of view, and his feelings regarding everything.

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena Please let me know your thoughts!

[shadowseductress]

《Wandering Hearts》

Part-III

Varsha

As I gaze at him, I'm struck by the sheer perfection of his face, a flawless symmetry that defies logic. The subtle scent of his cologne tickles my senses, evoking emotions I never knew existed. His intense gaze pierces into the depths of my soul, stirring feelings I never imagined I could feel.

All I can focus on is the urge to sink my teeth into his soft plum lips. Damn it, Rhea! My hands find their way to his chest, tracing the contours of his toned muscles. I push him away, but he swiftly grabs my hands, pinning them above my head. His intense gaze meets mine, and he growls, demanding to know, "What's your damn problem, Rhea?"

"You're the problem, Vivan. Release me now, I need to leave." His gaze is fixed on me, and without a word, he tugs at the strand of hair falling across my face, tucking it behind my ear. Leaning in closer, he whispers, "It was blocking my view."

[desisapphicx]

Midnight Ruin

Moodboard

Prologue

Akanksha takes a long drag of her even longer black-filtered cigarette. She could feel the eyes on her back. "What?" She asks the person; whose eyes keep drilling her. She takes her gaze off the street -- the view from her window is buzzing with people, automatons, and everything in between. Her ears pick up those distinct yet vague sale announcements from the local vendors and the bustling sounds of automated engines. The clear sky is coloured with a pinkish-orange hue; contradicting Akanksha's dark cloudy thoughts.

She steps away from the window ledge, rolls her shoulders back, and stretches her arms, trying to relieve the cramps that have been bothering her for quite some time. Her slender fingers rake through her dark brown hair and mould them into a loose bun around the thin gold fountain pen, which she found clipped to her notepad near the window. She tucks the ends of her sea-green chiffon saree into her saree's waistline and takes one last look at the street from her window before she turns around.

"I am just saying, you shouldn't have done that," says Kesar, her childhood friend. His brows are in a knot, and worry lines crease his forehead; he makes no effort to hide his thoughts but the only person to whom those emotions are aimed at; is ignoring his existence, or at least pretending to not notice. He takes in the ambience of the huge room; high-hanging oil lamps, and mechanical gaslights, illuminate the once dark space - except for the gloomy corners encompassing the room. The tall and sturdy pillars bore the weight of the soaring ceilings. Bronze pot humidifiers at distinct points in the room, scattering the wisps of wild jasmine, sweet lavender, and musky sandalwood, give the room, a more mystifying aura; but the intense essence of tar and nicotine of Akanksha's smoke pipe tardily dominates them.

Akanksha turns around, her sharp chestnut eyes, finding the small round clay pot covered in an antique painting -- an expensive birthday gift from her mother. The gift would've eventually made its place on some museum shelf; if not for her amma -- she couldn't care less for some flashy piece that symbolized her mother's gaudy love; hence the pricey ashtray.

She taps at her filter, and the "ashtray" laying on her desk near the window collects the remains of her smoke. She takes one long puff and mushes the cigarette.

The stern woman glides toward her bookshelf, and picks up the book she recently started reading, 'Women of Mughal Empire', she searches for another fresh stick in her maroon tin box that she usually keeps near her stacks of books, empty silver insides of the metal case stares back at her, seems like she forgot to restock. Maybe she shouldn't have mushed what was supposed to be her last smoke. "Shit" she mutters, and keeps checking her drawers for that spare paper-rolled tobacco, but no luck.

"AK"

"AK"

Kesar keeps on calling her, but his words fall on deaf ears.

Thin sweat trails from her temple to her jawline, and makes its final race to her chest, the moisture on her saree dissipating into a dark patch. It could be the humidity of the room or the lack of nicotine in her system; even though she just inhaled one whole smoke, well, not whole but almost, now she urgently needs another, to calm her nerves; her friend has brought back those overwhelming thoughts, from which she tried to escape, just a few hours ago.

"Do you have extra?" She waves around her long piped filter.

"Um... no." He answers. She keeps the filter on her bookshelf and heads out of her room to the hallway and calls for, "Sheela"..... "Sheela" her words rivet back at her.

Where did everyone go?

She grunts, her nerves are literally on edge; she can't wait around for anyone to quench her addiction; so, self-reliance it is.

Her father's office, which is at the end of the dark hallway, that's where her jittery legs take her. There on his desk, she finds his cigars neatly packed in a small tin box; she quickly lights one. The spice flavour instantly hits her taste buds; usually, she is not one for that pungent essence. But, screw it, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Are you done?" Kesar is standing near the door frame. She lifts her head and squints at him. He is a tall figure standing at 6'2", and his broad shoulders block all of the light coming from the hallway. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and takes out the rolled newspaper from a deep pocket of his white kurta, which complements his brown skin, and throws it on the desk.

Her gaze swiftly moved from him to the paper. Resting her smoke stick on her father's ashtray, she takes a seat in his leathered office chair, unfolds the paper, and turns the knob of the table's oil lamp, illuminating the desk. She reads out the bold headline from the local evening daily, 'Is Reddy's prodigy at the centre of College Killings?' She nods to herself and looks back at Kesar.

After the lack of response, he asks her, "Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about?"

"You don't seem to get it. Do you?" She knows what he's talking about, but she'd like to hear it from him.

"Speak plainly, Kez"

"You, being a part of the investigation" he throws his hands around, clearly annoyed by her nonchalance.

"No, I am not scared, unlike you." She snorts and continues- "Tell me, Kez. Don't you want me to be free of these sickening claims?"

"Of course. I want that for you, my bondhu. But, you're being short-sighted here."

"Believe whatever you want, I'll prove my innocence by any means" Akanksha flares her nose. Her breathing gets agitated as the minutes go by; she doesn't understand how her friend is not backing her up.

"AK, you're not listening to yourself, this will only come back to you"

She quirks her eyebrow in question, to which her friend says, "You're a protham suspect, you'll be like a walking target if you get involved in this investigation"

"No, Kez. This will only show how I am still here, ready for whatever they hurl at me. I am not wavering my stance"

"Tor matha kharap. I appreciate your confidence but what part of being a suspect, you don't get?" He sighs in frustration.

"No suspect.." he begins; but by the look on her face, he quickly stammers to correct- "Sorry, no possible or alleged suspect gets involved in the investigation, it will look like you're here to not clear your name but the evidence." She cannot believe that he is sputtering such nonsense, and what hurts her, even more, is that her friend doesn't believe in her innocence.

"I can't believe you just said that" before he can explain himself, she raises her hand, stopping him from blabbering, even more, absurdity. "You may not have faith in me, but I am confident enough about what I am doing"

"If you're done, you can leave." She has nothing more to offer to this conversation.

"AK" he calls for her, but she looks straight ahead; refusing to glance at him. He nods to himself, accepting defeat, one last time he tries - "I didn't mean to offend you in any way, aamaye khoma korben. I was just looking out for you" he gets up and makes his way to the office's mahogany door.

But, then he comes across a dark silhouette. He asks- "What is she doing here?" His words are brimmed with shock and anger.

"Hello to you too, Kesar." says the hoarse voice.

  

xxx

A/n: Hey everyone. I just want to say that this fiction is set in the 1940s and in an alternative universe; so, much of the history will not be here for obvious reasons. This is not a politically oriented story, but the element may be used as a background and only that.

P.S.: Also, I am a non-Bangla speaker. I have used the help of google and google translate; for one of my characters, so if you find any discrepancies you can message me or comment here with the corrections.

P.S.S: I have not edited this thoroughly, I was in a bit rush, if you come to find any grammatical errors, please excuse me. I will edit this some other day. The updates will be slower, just so you know.

Thanks for giving this a read :)

Happy Pride!!! 🏳️‍🌈

[mmwiddc]

आगयीं !! Chai bangyi hai ruko main nikalkr lata hun

Mujhe tumhara shaher ek kahani sa lagta hai, Ek esi kahani jisse sunna nhi jeena jaruri haii, Jab train se utarta hun toh phli nazar chai ki choti si dukan par padti hai Subha ke 6 baje Chai ko naa nhi keh paata bas chaldeta hun dukan ki taraf, Esa lagta hai tumhare shaher me samay rukasa hua hai Dukan me radio par ghulam ali sahab dheemi awaaz me gunguna rahe hain 🎶 Apani Ankhon Mein Chhupa Rakhein Hain Jugnu Main Ne Apani Palakon Pe Saja Rakhe Hain Ansu Main Ne Meri Ankhon Ko Bhi Barasaat Ka Mauqa De De Ham Tere Shahar Mein Aaye Hain, Musaafir Ki Tarah 🎶 Chai khatam karke nikalta hun sadak par Meri bahot baatein hui hain tumhare shaher ki sadkon se Wo tumhara aana jaana yaad rakhti hain, Tumhare shaher mein gaadiyon ke horn se jyada mandiron ki ghantiyan sunai padti haii Aur mandiron ke bahar milte hain rang virange phool, Woh phool dekh kar mujhe esa lagta hai har phool kurbaan hi ye soch ke hua ho ke wo tumhare gazrey me apni jagah bana sake, Toh mandir ke bahar se kuch phool khared leta hun jisse Ghar jaakr tumhare liye gazra apne haanthon se bana sakun main jo aage chalta hun toh meri mulaqat galiyon se hoti hai Tumhare bheege baalon jaisi uljhi galiyan Jo sulajhna nhi chahati aur yakin maano unhe suljhana kisi paap se kam nhi Bahot khubsurat lagti hain tumhari bheegi uljhi zulfen Aur unse jyada khubsurat lagti ho tum Unhe suljhata hue Main ye sochta sochta kab apne ghar pohach jata hun pata hi nhi chalta Tumhare ghar Tumse darwaza kholne ki ummid nhi karta Khud hi kundi sarka kar andar aajata hun Toh pata hun table par ek khat Jisme tumne likha hai Aagye aap? Chlo fresh hojao aur mere liye badiya si adrak wali chai banakar rakho Main mandir jaarhi hun jldi ajaungi

Wapas aungi toh bahot saari baatein karni hain aapse

Main woh khat dekh kar muskurate hue sochne lagta hun Mujhe tumhare shaher mein bitaya hua har ek pal ek kahani jaisa lagta hai Ek esi kahani jise sunna nhi jeena jaruri haii...

~ Sehr

[curtwilde]

A family court in Indore, Madhya Pradesh has directed a woman to return to her husband's home with immediate effect and principal judge NP Singh observed that wearing the ritualistic 'sindoor' (vermillion) was the duty of a (Hindu) woman as it demonstrates that she is married, and refusing to wear it is "kind of cruelty".

The hearing included a plea of a man seeking restoration of his "rights" under the Hindu Marriage Act after his wife walked out of the marriage five years ago. The woman who had left and wanted a divorce, accused her husband of physical and mental harassment for dowry.

Source

[xpsx-8]

Sapphic south asians in media!!

[creatinganewwlife]

“Kuch intezaar ese hote hain, jinme shaam nahi, umar guzar jaati hai.”

— Qais Bhat, Laila Majnu (2018)