March 2017 issue

March 2017 Issue

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Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Writer’s Ezine: The Origin: Writer's Ezine was started as a monthly literary online magazine (E-zine) with the intention of providing platform to emerging as well as established writers from around the world. From June 2016 Writer's Ezine would be published Quarterly.

The idea of creating a platform for writers occurred to Arti Honrao towards the end of 2013. As a writer, she had been a part of many online forums, magazines etc. and she wanted to play a role in making a difference in the literary world.

She thought of various names for the domain and finally settled on Writer’s Ezine. She purchased the domain and then discussed this with Namrata; her online friend, who then,

after a thought agreed that it was a good initiative.

Right from day one responsibilites were sorted out; Namrata was meant to handle the promotions and editing/compilation of the submissions, handle review and interview section while Arti worked on the site, banners and badges, publishing the posts on site – the designing, forms etc., creating issuu emagazine and pdf versions of the issue.

The Progress: Having published more than 100 contributors in the first five issues; WE released its first special edition issue in September that featured contributors already published on Writer's Ezine. The journey continued and WE released it's second special

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue edition (Anniversary Issue) in April 2015.

As the journey progressed WE introduced new features including Book Giveaways and it was during one of such book giveaways that Namrata was recruited by a Publishing House to be their Editor, which had a negative impact on her role in Writer's Ezine and finally the decision had to be made.

Namrata was no longer a part of Writer's Ezine and Arti Honrao single-handedly released November and December 2015 issues.

The End: Arti Honrao announced that December 2015 issue would be the last issue of Writer's Ezine.

The story behind the decision can be read on this page: Why was the

magazine closed to begin with.

Statistics as on 2nd December 2015: 21 Issues, 69,265 page views, 536 posts, 275+ contributors, 1,595 Facebook followers, 173 Twitter Followers and 82 Newsletter subscribers.

The Rebirth:

“Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.

And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.” ― Neil Gaiman April 2016 was supposed to be the second anniversary of Writer's Ezine but, unfortunately there was no celebration.

This and a few other factors led Arti Honrao to reconsider her decision of closing down Writer's Ezine and finally towards the end of the Anniversary month;

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue she announced the reopening of the magazine.

The magazine will now be published quarterly.

WE appreciates submissions in all forms of poetry prose poems, haiku, tanka, acrostic, etc., fiction - including 55-fiction & flash fiction, non-fiction, photography and (newly introduced) art in any form. Anything that is creative is accepted at Writer's Ezine. e.g. paintings, quilling, sketches etc. (You can send photos of the same with the description of the art) To get published in our magazine you can send in your work in any of the above mentioned categories (only English) as per our submission guidelines mentioned HERE.

Cover Photo Copyright – Soumita Saha This e-magazine is a compilation of Poems, Short Stories, Short – Story Series, Non – Fiction, Photographs published on Writer’s Ezine.

Image source Google Images, unless mentioned otherwise.

(Photography submissions © of mentioned author.

The copyright of the work published in this magazine remains with the author of the individual work.

Please contact the authors and Writer’s Ezine if you need to use the content.

You are free to share the content as long as you retain and respect the copyright.

Visit Writer’s Ezine (www.writersezine.co m) for details Find us on Facebook www.facebook.com/wri tersezine

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Twitter https://twitter.com/W riters_ezine Send us an email admin@writersezine.c om WE on Issuu: http://issuu.com/wri tersezine WE on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1LV3o5a WE E-magazine site: http://mag.writersezi ne.com

About Administrator: Administrator, Editor, Promotions & Marketing Manager, Web-designer, Strategist & Relationship Advisor. : Arti Honrao: www.artihonrao.in Do share your feedback with us. WE would love to hear what you have to say testimonials@writers ezine.com

WE on WhatsApp

What's App on the number provided in the image with your details (name etc.) and your query. WE admin would reply as soon as possible.

Writer's Ezine broadcasts alerts frequently about important notices and newsletter with direct links. All you have to do is add WE to friend list if you wish to get the alerts and inform us about the same. You can trust WE, your number would not be shared with anyone and WE would not send you spam.

Now get special benefits by being subscriber of broadcast alerts. To begin with – Get a glimpse of the prompt of the month photo before others.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue App of Writer’s Ezine

It is highly recommended that the mobile users download and install this app, which comes loaded with features including the tab for downloading pdf versions of all the issues of Writer’s Ezine and links to important pages on Writer’s Ezine. In short, if you have this app in your phone it means you have the entire Writer’s Ezine on your palm!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Do check out Writer’s Ezine Print Magazines

Please visit our badges page http://www.writersez ine.com/p/link-towe.html and pick your favourite from the various badges to display on your site/blog and spread the word about Writer's Ezine

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Segments on Writer’s Ezine

Prompt of the Month

Author’s Quill

Books are magical and the ones who create them are magicians.

Author's Quill is a segment that will bring all those magicians to recreate some of the magic through their quills, as they know it the best!

As we all love to hear what they have to say, WE brings to you some of your favourite authors in this segment. Month on month WE will invite amazing authors to wield the magic of their quill and take you to their magic land which only they can create.

Read what they have to share with you!

WE believes that at times creativity looks for a muse. So here we attempt to give you a muse month on month that will tickle your creative buds and let your imagination take a flight.

The rules remain the same. The prompt remains open till the last date of submission for the next month’s issue. i.e. till 20th of the month to be considered to the next month’s.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Literati

A bi-monthly column which will bring to you interesting tits-bits about literature starting from authors to their books, everything that you ever wanted to know about it is here now.

Join our columnist Aneesha Myles Shewani as she takes you along on a journey where the smell of books is in the air!

Cook-N-Tell

Till now Writer's Ezine managed to gather various flavours of romance, suspense, mystery, longing, pain, life, death, thriller... every chapter a new story and every poem a new song. And that is when we realised WE missed out on a very interesting flavour - one that adds a zing to it. So here we are, presenting Cook-N-Tell a bimonthly column which will have some amazing, mouthwatering, easy-to-make dishes!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

IN THIS ISSUE Cover Photo: Letting Go / Farewell – Artwork by Soumita Saha A Song for Solitude – Poem by Chitralekha Sreejai Between Sides – Short Story by Riya Ann Eapen Witness – Artwork by Soumita Saha The Market – Poem by Priya Anand Release – Poem by Lynn White Book Review – I – Band, Bajaa Boys Author Interview – I – Rachna Singh Zing Up the Barren – Short Story by Ashwini Ajjappa Arkachari The Shades and the Brush – Poem by Surbhi Bafna The Rhyme of Your Soul – Poem by Amreen Ahmed In Search of Ustopia Through Speculative Fiction – Literati

by Aneesha Myles Shewani The Lady in the Pink Jacket – Short Story by Deeksha Shetty She – Prompt Winner – Short Story by Shree Lakshmi Cruising Through the Cracks – Poem by Asha Krishna Book Review – II – Love Forever @ Rajpath Author Interview – II – Kalpana Mishra The Ride – Short Story by Alka Purushotham Melody of Love – Artwork by Daman Singh Hopeful Mirage – Poem by Bhadra V. G. From One Point to Another – Author’s Quill by Richa Saxena I Miss the Soft Imprints of Your Butterfly Kiss – Poem by Roma Gupta Sinha Earth - Our State – Poem by Ruchi Shitole A Silky Bite – Flash Fiction by Viji Nathan A Day at the Seaside – Short Story by Roderick Chalmers The Bloom and My Gloom – Short Story by Nupoor Raj Veg. Cheese Capsicum (with added vegs) – Cook ‘N’ Tell by Arti Honrao The Haunting Memories – Short Story Series by Arti Honrao

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

It’s Time “Even if you know what’s coming, you’re never prepared for how it feels.” Natalie Standiford

Very apt for what I am going through right now as I compose this Editor’s Note. I had given this a lot of thought and despite that, when the time came to put it in words; give it a physical form – make it real, I am all choked up.

Let me start from the beginning for the new readers of Writer’s Ezine. A story I’d tell people for a long time – of how it started and how it nearly ended and how encouragement from someone can make one rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Writer's Ezine was started as a monthly literary online magazine (E-zine) with the intention of providing platform to emerging as well as established writers from around the world.

And the ‘almost’ end happened in December 2015, when I decided to close down the magazine. But the undying faith of the patrons in Writer’s Ezine; the encouraging words and the support finally made me change the decision and June 2016 issue was released.

The whole story can be read here.

It has been a good journey; but the time has come to finally step aside. It’s time to move on. It’s time to give space to the

newer magazines.

Writer’s Ezine was never about competition.

WE’s always had its different kind of fanfollowing where no one felt as if they were following some hard-to-reach literary magazine.

I can proudly say that

Writer’s Ezine has always been transparent to its readers and has always been reachable to them – let it be by email, fb or twitter inboxes and even WhatsApp.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue People write to me saying that I have contributed to the literary field, played my role by giving chance to emerging writers; that might be true but what I know to be truer is that you all readers and contributors have given me much more than what I offered.

Your steadfast faith in me, your encouragement and your support means a lot to me.

Writer’s Ezine would always cherish what it has achieved – something that is more valuable than being on some chart.

The statistics prove (if anything) that Writer’s Ezine has been loved by all. I take this opportunity to thank you all for the love.

The closing down of Writer’s Ezine this time is way different than the one that happened in December 2015; for one, there is no negativity or broken trust to taint this decision. That decision had crushed me, on the other hand, even though this decision does make me sad in a way, it also fills my heart with joy and love for getting the chance to be a part of your lives for a longer time.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Secondly, it is not filled with hopelessness and regret as last time.

This time when I finally took the decision, I knew it really is the time. My heart is not heavy with negativity but filled with confidence of ‘I Can’.

Ezine would have to slip away into the shadows for lack of submissions. It will crush me. Writer’s Ezine is my brainchild and I cannot let that happen to it.

I have singlehandedly released past few

Remember Writer’s Ezine as your companion of good times in writing. I want you all to remember Writer’s Ezine as something that has, in its own way, inspired you to keep writing.

issues of Writer’s Ezine and maybe if I set my mind to it I can do so in future as well; but I have to let go.

Someone had once told me that it is better to end on a high note than close when it turns to low. Even though the submissions have been coming at a steady rate right now; I cannot even think of the time when Writer’s

I want you all to know that I will not be gone. I will be here – inspiring you all in my own way. WE will no longer be a magazine (that publishes submissions); but it will continue to exist. It will remain a valid URL and not disappear from the Internet so that people can visit, re-

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue visit and dive into the archives whenever they want to.

Contributors need to know that WE is yours as it is mine. Your work will remain here, maybe inspiring others to write.

Contests might be announced once in a while, including book giveaways - for that you will have to stay tuned to our Facebook page or follow WE on Twitter or join WhatsApp broadcast subscriber list. (Send WE a message to add you, you need to add WE to your contact list).

Writer’s Ezine will never cease to be a part of your lives; a part that you, hopefully, value as much as I value being a part of your lives.

In this last issue of Writer’s Ezine …

Our in-house book reviewer Ketki Yennemadi reviews 'Band Bajaa Boys' written by Rachna Singh and 'Love Forever @ Rajpath' written by Kalpana Mishra and Interviews the Authors as well.

Aneesha Myles Shewani writes As

always,

on literature related interesting topic in the Literati segment.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue This time she writes on 'In Search of Ustopia Through Speculative Fiction'.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” - Winnie the

Author's Quill of March 2017 Issue features Richa Saxena who writes about her journey as a writer in her article 'From Point One to Another'

A time comes in our lives when we have to let go.

Remember, being strong sometimes means being able to let go.

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” –

In Cook 'N' Tell, I have shared the recipe of my favorite Veg. Cheese Capsicum (with added vegs). Do try it and let me know how it turned out. By the way, Capsicum is my favorite; so, just in case you ever invite me over for lunch, you know what dish to make ;) I would like to congratulate all the contributors of this issue of Writer's Ezine. I hope the readers enjoy reading the issue as much as I loved compiling it.

Pooh

Paulo Coelho

Keep writing Stay Blessed Arti Honrao

Admin, WE

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Statistics as on 2nd December 2015: 21 Issues, 69,265 page views, 536 posts, 275+ contributors, 1,595 Facebook followers, 173 Twitter Followers and 82 Newsletter subscribers.

Statistics as on 6th March 2017: 25 issues, 95,517 page views, 638 posts, 300+ contributors, 2658 Facebook followers, 262 Twitter Followers, 82 WhatsApp Broadcast subscribers and 186 Newsletter subscribers.

Even though I say that I have singlehandedly released last few magazines; I have to admit that I had some support of good friends who stood by me.

I take this opportunity to thank them.

Ketki Yennemadi and Aneesha Myles Shewani thank you for

believing in me when I did not believe myself during the bad phase.

Thank you, Ketki for the reviews, thank you especially for taking the time allotted to you and doing that at the last moment taking out time from your busy schedule.

Thank you, Aneesha for your literati articles that always came on time; I never had to send you a reminder.

Last but not the least, thank you Harshita Goel for helping me with the work of Writer's Ezine. The little things you did for me without expecting anything in return mean a lot to me.

Stay blessed Arti Honrao

Admin, WE

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Cover Letting Farewell

Photo: Go /

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Description: MEDIUM: Paper, and Mixed Medium (Water Color and Wood Pencil) Soumita says: Sometimes when we let go of things, relationships, attachments or people who are close to us we suffer from depression. My point of view might differ from everybody else here, but I think when we let go of attachments our depression is not absolutely the result of the emptiness we feel. The one who walks away first faces judgement that they do not deserve. They are often judged as "Selfish".

A couple of months ago, I watched a movie that preached a message which meant 'adjustment is not the other form of defeat, rather it is a form of victory ". A question often comes to my mind

"Does the victory called adjustment shall be greeted with equal warmth, if it demands sacrifice of self-respect?" I know this is a topic that might end up it a debate. In "Letting Go" I am trying to portray that strength of a person where one can walk away from adjustment.

Sometimes we continue to stay in a decaying bond just because we love that person too much. Walking away does not mean you are not in love with that person. If love is true one can love a person silently from thousand miles away.

Staying in love barely means you must stay in touch with a person.

Love is unconditional, true love is selfless and barely nurtures expectations to be loved back.

Letting Go portrays that strength where a

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue girl is walking away from a decaying bond and letting go of what hurts, she is carrying a bunch of balloons which are bright colored and this represents the hope she is nurturing. She is walking away and the bright colored balloons are symbolically representing positivity, while the idea of balloons itself gives another hint. She is bidding good but to dead and decaying bonding and therefore the heavyhearted feeling will be there no longer.

The fashion enthusiast in me actually influence my artist self to give that bohemian print look to her skirt. The lady who is strong enough to let go and walk away can easily carry a bohemian look.

Bohemian attire is another symbolic representation of " breaking free of

stereotypes”.

A Bohemian soul is strong enough to let go and embrace the bit of positivity that still exists.

Admin's Note: When I requested Soumita Saha to re-create a photograph I had sent to her; I had 'farewell' in my mind.

Something, that reflects the closing down of Writer's Ezine. I loved the description written

by Soumita, therefore it stays.

It is a matter of perspective for Soumita it was about letting go of a decaying bond and for me, the cover photo is about me (WE) bidding goodbye to WE readers and contributors.

The description of balloons that she has written is so apt.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Soumita Saha: Soumita Saha is a professional singer, presently pursuing degree in Architecture. Soumita hails from the city of joy, music and art have always been here soulmate since childhood.

Her interest in reading and writing officially turned into blogging a year ago. A singer's life keeps her busy, when not singing she writes and plays with her paint brushes.

Exploring different form of art, starting from colors to pencil medium is her passion.

Soumita belongs to musical background, her father is an eminent Tagore song sensation, while her mother is a professional critic.

Music and literary interest both are in her genes. Besides making her mark in the music industry she has already established her name

as a blogger and got her Poems published in different magazines, books and e-portals.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue

A Song Solitude

for

I sit for hours beside the blue lake watching the sunken waves, where the boat sailed by; The light waned in the skies and thrust the stars out of the heavens, The song lost its rhythm in my wistful heart, Blue, as the lake that drifted by; Memories appeared and disappeared, Like the speck of the yonder lone star;

The heart ached to trace them, As they died out with natural ease.

My heart broke into an unknown song, As if for years they were caged within; Love seeped into the being, trickling, Down through the broken veins, The brown cells, aged, withered, Shooting a spurt of green; In silent obscurity, I knew,

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue That love had made me endless, The mute silence had been eloquent; Many a procession passed by With glitz and glory, Yet, I found it hidden, in the shadows of the earth, In the flush of the sunset on the sky; My heart shall dwell on these unsung melodies and sight, Till the mundane existence ceases, Till the lamp fades its timid light.

About Chitralekha Sreejai: Chitralekha is an aspiring writer with a deep passion for literature, art and music. She has a doctoral degree in Sanskrit.

She published a book of poems titled 'The divine hand in the dark' with India books, Trivandrum.

Some of her writings have appeared in Woman's Era and Alive magazines. She lives in Kerala with her husband and two daughters and can be reached at uchitralekha@yahoo.c om

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Between Sides

This happened to me one time around five or six years ago, it was Christmas time and I had come home from my college hostel. The travelling had really tired me out, since I can't remember how exactly I got home or what I

did after I reached. I must have plunked straight down onto the bed and slept for 18 hours straight since it was morning when I woke up. The birds chirping

outside my window spread a nice little calm through the house.

Which was weird because my home was NEVER calm, or quiet, or sane.

Because I lived in a joint family in a house with my grandparents, their four children, their spouses and their ten children. Now you understand.

Well that day was quiet, and looking around I found no one in the house. All the rooms were empty! But considering that this was a miracle I craved for every day, I wasn't

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue displeased. I lazed around for a while in my pajamas watching normal TV, not cartoon network or the discovery channel like I would be forced to watch when my huge family was around. But hearing no sound for about two and a half hours, I realized something was up... maybe they were all hiding to surprise me, but I discarded THAT idea soon enough... my family wasn't able to keep the noise down at funerals, let alone a surprise party for one of their own. Maybe they had gone away on a trip and forgotten me, like in the home alone movie. Yes, that was the most probable explanation. So, I walked around, peeking into all the rooms... looking at all the disarray, which was normal.

I do not know what led me to the attic, but behind a box of old toys that nobody was

young enough to play with anymore, I found this door. I had never seen it before, it was a small wood door, same as the paneling on the wall. Now as a kid in a joint family who had played hide and seek when they were a child, then again when they were a teenager with a woeful little cousin who threatened to cry if you didn't play, then again as a college student whose grades were being discussed by the family, it would be an understatement to say I was surprised that I hadn't noticed the door before. And it looked like it had been used recently.

Maybe my mum knew where it led to, but being as she was a thousand kilometers away on a beach, or a resort, or a camping trip, I didn't know which, it would be rather difficult to ask… wouldn't you say?

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue So, I moved over the boxes, and grabbed the handle of the door and pulled. And nothing...

It wouldn't budge. So, I looked through the stuff in the attic and found a crowbar, still no avail. My eyes fell on the toys and in my desperation, I grabbed the plastic key in that we used to pretend could open the door to fantasy land, more about that later. But weirdly enough, the door swung open. I stood stock still, and pinched my arm to check if I was dreaming. No change, other than that it hurt like hell, ouch!! I walked through the door into a room flooded with light from the open window.

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light I saw that the room was exactly like the attic, with way less boxes. The sound birds and children laughing assaulted my ears. I waked over to

the window and looked out. Two stories below a group of children playing, you guessed it right, hide and seek... among them a little one in red frock caught my eye instantly. I had seen my childhood pics you see, and that kid looked astonishingly like me, so much so, that I went on a pinching spree and hurt myself so bad that I screamed at the top of my voice. Sure, now that no matter what my blue and black arm was hinting that this was dream I turned back to the room.

I noted that there was a bed in the middle of the room, now my dream mind was getting creative. Who would make someone sleep in the attic? It's the scariest place in the world, except my dark future.

My mind lauded itself for making a joke in a situation like this,

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue but if you didn't find it funny, I just watched a 15-year younger version of myself for God's sake!

I walked down the attic stairs and they didn't creak, which was something the stairs have been doing since I was seven or eight. The nearest room was the one in which my sister and I slept, so this was the decider. Grabbing the handle, I pulled the door open. Inside was what I was looking for, my family, give or take a few members.

Only, they were a few decades younger than I'd seen them yesterday. They were crowded around a bassinet from which an excessive wailing was heard. My elder sister, now a little girl of three was jumping up and down, trying to peek into the bassinet at the new visitor. In the bassinet, itself was a little bundle of

towels through which I could just about see a tiny face and large eyes, me. I let out a shout of surprise and dejection but nobody even moved a muscle (was I invisible?) Ever wondered how you looked as a newborn?

Well it isn’t pretty.

With large eyes that covered pretty much half my teeny red face, and the constant wailing, I could be the newborn of a rat or a crafted carrot for all you knew. But what was wonderful to see was the reaction of the others.

My grandfather, with hardly any of gray hairs that I was accustomed to seeing, clapped his hands in delight, grandma had tears in her eyes, dad just looked at me like he couldn't get enough. Best of all was the look on my mother as she took me into her arms and tried to put me back to sleep (good luck there). Well I couldn't help it, there

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue were some tears in my eyes, not only because I got to see this but also because, well, have you seen yourself as a baby? No? Yeah that's what any sane person would say, and I had successfully gone and lost my mind.

I walked out of the room and tried another, my little cousin's room, she was better looking as a kid as far as I remembered, maybe that'd cheer me up. But surprise again, the room in front of me was a classroom, my first day at school and guess what? I was crying, AGAIN. I looked on as my friends helped me put on my bag and huge water bottle and run crying after my dad and sister. 'Ha! In your face, Miss Mary John', I shouted. 'Trying to get me to sit down in a place for about 3 hours! I do what I please, which was going home crying,

apparently.'

She seemed not to notice that a grown-up was standing in front of her, shouting.

I decided to try my luck in the next room, and as I opened the door I was greeted with a very faint beeping. I saw me trying to walk, taking one tiny step after another, falling and then trying again and again, while my family cheered on. Was the beeping some inducing music that they used to play to get kids to walk?

As I exited the room, a couple of kids ran past me in the corridor and I heard a voice counting '11...

12...13...' from somewhere below. Ah yes, the familiar old game.

And being neither fast, nor smart I ended up being the denner (that's what we used to call the one who had to 'seek' the hidden ones) most

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue times. The kids didn't seem to mind the beeping much either.

So, I wandered from room to room, and every time I opened a room a new memory would set itself in place. So, I saw my whole past life in half a dozen rooms in the little wood house I called home. I watched me ride a bicycle, play cards, cry when I got only a 'b-' in an exam. In each memory, the beeping sounded louder than in the last, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.

Were there people following me that I couldn't see, like how the people in the rooms couldn't see me?

Was the future me, watching me look at my past?? Deep, isn’t it?

Apparently crazy version of me didn't change my mental capacity much.

Now I could hear voices too, strange

voices that sounded nothing like my family.

So, the possibility that I was dreaming and about to be woken up by my mum was out.

And then it happened.

I hit a dead end. I looked in a room and found… nothing. No memories, no people, not even a piece of furniture. Just white walls staring blankly back at me. Same thing happened in the next room, and the next and the next. And he corridors too, had fallen silent.

Had I run out of memories? No, that was not possible, I hadn't yet watched myself get kicked out of class for the first time. I hadn't seen myself having a mental breakdown, I hadn't seen myself falling in love, I knew I had more memories than this crazy house was leading me to believe.

What had happened?

The beeping and the whispering had

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue increased but where were the people? My house had a dozen rooms and finding 11 of them empty, I headed for the last, the guest room and grabbed the handle.

The familiar rhythm of the beeping met my ears as I walked in.

The room looked vaguely familiar, but I didn't know from where, like something you saw in a dream.

Another crowd was gathered and about 6 people in green gowns were frantically working away at something and I could see blood, a LOT of blood. Surgeons! Aha! Whoever was on the table wasn't likely to survive. The doctors were frantic, and the two head surgeons worked with full concentration, while the others handed them the stuff they asked for as quickly as humanly possible. A couple of nurses standing on the side

whispered to each other incessantly.

I remembered now, where this memory came from, where I had seen this room before and what was going to happen.

And sure enough, the beeping hit a crescendo and I could feel my heart racing. I was falling.

Falling through time and space. Falling away from everything I'd known. Away from life itself. I was going to see the end now, the 'other side'.

With a thud, I hit the bottom and everything went dark.

Bright light met my eyes once again when I opened them next. A number of strange faces in white coats were looking down on me. Angels?? If this WAS the 'other side' they needed to be taught a thing or two about staring at the newcomers. One of them approached closer to my bed and flashed

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue light into my eyes, then he checked my heart rate. Now this was plain rude. I had half a mind to ask him to bugger off. But before I could speak he pointed first at me, then at himself saying ‘can you hear me?' as if I were deaf.

I opened my mouth to reply but unable to get any coherent sound out of it I just nodded. 'A Christmas miracle people' he said looking around.

Then he turned back to me and continued, 'you see, you've been in a coma for the last five years...'

About Author: Riya Ann Eapen

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Witness

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Description: Medium: Handmade Paper, Charcoal, 8b pencil and dry pastel (in black) Soumita says, "If you ask me to describe this painting, all I can say is this is nothing I have painted getting inspired by some photograph or something I have seen in real...

This is something I would say 'my canvas speaks what my heart feels ' When I was working on this painting, I wrote this poem ...

Witness Sitting on a silent bench, some memories flashed on my mind, Sleepless nights we fought relentlessly, memories we created With fragrance of love, having stayed awake,

Looking at the setting sun, I was staring at the familiar hanging bridge, The bridge that witnessed us locking hands for the first time, feeling the warmth of the winter Sun, by the side of the lake.

Now that the crimson sky bows down to touch the hanging bridge, Coral jasmines blooms breaking the silence of nothingness Tearing the contamination of a ragged mesh.

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" weaves threads Connecting hearts, I promise: for you I shall begin to weave dreams Again, I shall begin to write our poetry a fresh.

I know not how darkness consumes the familiar bridge, I know not if they talk about the winter

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue pigeons being touched by spring, I know not if they talk about the songs of mist.

May be the night tells the hanging bridge the story How discords learnt to harmonize, the rare story of love, how the warmth Of his unconditional love, made her bloom in an artist.

About Soumita Saha: Soumita Saha is a professional singer, presently pursuing degree in Architecture. Soumita hails from the city of joy, music and art have always been here soulmate since childhood.

Her interest in reading and writing officially turned into blogging a year ago. A singer's life keeps her busy, when not singing she writes and plays with

her paint brushes.

Exploring different form of art, starting from colors to pencil medium is her passion.

Soumita belongs to musical background, her father is an eminent tagore song sensation, while her mother is a professional critic.

Music and literary interest both are in her genes. Besides making her mark in the music industry she has already established her name as a blogger and got her Poems published in different magazines, books and e-portals.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue

The Market

Beetle juice stained sidewalks A discarded chappal besides a puddle of liquid of unknown origins Narrow doorways that seep a malevolent light A flash of a cigarette in the hands of a panderer The law that aids and abets saunters past

From men seeking temporary release or solace Copulation on sale along the artery As wheeled monsters cruise by Vapour ghosts who glitter momentarily like Fireflies that emit cold bioluminescence 80-year-old eyes on a 20-year-old body An impassive stare turned inward Sepia tinted anamnesis of a life once lived Now a self-induced amnesia that thankfully cloaks flights of fancy

Cleavages and thighs artlessly displayed, as are scars of visits borne

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Priya Anand: Priya Anand is Bangalore based and works as a consultant with non profits that supports rural women from disadvantaged and vulnerable communities.

She recently started writing short fiction and poetry and some of her work has been published in Spark, Bangalore Review, Writers Ezine, The Brown Boat and The Literary Yard. She is a community member of the Bangalore Writers Workshop, a platform that enables emerging writers to share, critique and learn from each other's writing.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Release

I could have come home sooner, Made the journey home. but that home would not have been my home.

I could have joined you sooner,

but you would have to leave your home and join me in a place that could never be our home.

So I stayed.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue I stayed and stayed.

I stayed longer.

As long as it took for you to come home and become the person that you once were.

her at: https://www.facebook. com/pages/LynnWhitePoetry/1603675983213 077 and http://www.lynnw hitepoetry.blogspot.c om

About Lynn White: Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined.

She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality.

Her poem 'A Rose For Gaza' was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition 2014.

This and many other poems, have been widely published on line and in print in some rather excellent publications.

Find Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Book Review – I

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue :Intro: Book Details: Title: Band, Bajaa, Boys!

Author: Rachna Singh Genre: Fiction ISBN: 9789381506837 Type: Paperback Publisher: Amaryllis Language: English Pages: 215 Year of Publication: 2016 Price: 156 Buy Paperback: Amazon

The Blurb: BA-pass Brajesh sold bras in Manphodgunj.

Perhaps his destiny was sealed the day Babuji named him Brajesh. Under normal circumstances, Brahmins were not supposed to be businessmen.

But Kumud Bajpai had brought along a hosiery shop as dowry and there was no looking back. Only

front. One glance and Brajesh could estimate, ‘Madam, 38D will be perfect.’

Together, they had produced and raised Binny, their twentyyear-old daughter who they lovingly called a ‘happy-golucky’ girl: happy to spend her father’s money while different fellows got lucky.

Binny was now an undergraduate student at the University of Allahabad and classmate Gajendragoing-bald was besotted with her. He would smile in her general direction throughout the entire lecture. One day at the lab, she had leaned over his workbench, letting her dupatta slip to allow a peek at her cleavage and had pouted, ‘What is in your hands?’ A lot was in his hands later that evening. Now, Binny was in love with Rahul, or, to be more precise, his

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue situation. You see, Rahul was a rich man’s son and stayed in a palatial bungalow with an army of alert minions. When they yelled, ‘Ramu, Tiwari, Jagdamba’, servants would jump out of the pores of the house in an instant to serve them. But, unknown to Binny, Raja was in love with her and had won over Brajesh’s heart by eliminating goon Ramlal from the encroachment next to Kumud Hosiery and Bedding.

To complicate things further, her parents were looking for a suitor. She had asked best friend, Manjul with feigned exasperation, ‘Marriz… marriz… why human beens need to do a marriz? Why?’ But Manjul was a pious girl, easily outraged into calling out to God. Let’s help Chumki elope with Azhar. Hey Bhagwaan.

Let’s eat two-two icecreams. Hey Bhagwaan.

Binny’s latest plan was so alarming that Manjul was compelled to summon all possible gods, some even borrowed from other religions, to express her utter and complete shock.

Will Binny choose ‘gorment’-job-holder Tarun or SanskariN.R.I Harsh? Would Raja be able to win her heart? How long will Brajesh be able to keep the suitors on hold with excuses like: ‘My mother’s deathbirthday is coming’,’Kumud’s chacha has became a widow’, or ‘Our family pandit himself is in Planet Saturn’?

Will Binny execute her dangerous plan?

Band, Bajaa, Boys! is here to take you on the laugh-o-coaster of your life!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About the Author:

Rachna Singh writes in the areas of humour, love, and organizational development.

She believes in living in the moment, cherishing life as it comes, and reaping the most of every moment.

Born and schooled in Allahabad, Rachna studied at St. Mary’s Convent and, subsequently, at the University of Allahabad.

She inherits her wicked humor from her father, Ajit Thakurdas, and her love for writing from her mother,

Kamalini Thakurdas, who writes in poetry and prose in Hindi.

Rachna has worked in the area of Learning and Organizational Development for almost two decades.

She has worked at Tata Motors, Infosys, Spice Telecom and Dell.

Married to Alok, alumni, IT-BHU(Meta, ’93), and IIMLucknow(’98), Rachna has two children, Aisha and Prithviraj.

The author plans to continue writing, across genres, giving her readers something

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue new to relish, each time.

:Book Review: The Cover: The bright cover of this book is an explosion of colors.

The lights, the arteen, the Manphodgunj signboard has Bollywood written all over it. The image of a girl standing next to her suitors against such an interesting background, is sure to make you open the book and find out what it is all about.

Narration: Multi-perspectivity of the narration is what makes this book more relatable. The author explains how each character thinks in a very vernacular manner that makes the story not only amusing but also real.

Language: Very easy to understand English with a smattering of Hindi phrases brings the story closer home.

The author smartly plays with words and phrases to create a humorous effect. The author to her credit has used ‘Indianisms’ in such a way that she has you rolling with laughter as you move through the pages.

The Characters: The book is an eclectic assortment of colorful characters.

Binny, the young girl of 21, is the character you instantly fall in love with. Brajesh and Kumud, in their quest for a son-in-law are a perfect example of stereotypical Indian parents.

The characters are simple and real, almost like the people we meet in our everyday lives.

Moreover, it is smalltown-ness of these characters that makes them so endearing and

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue comical. There’s an array of charactersBholenath Bajpai, his wife Dulari, ‘Bra’jesh, Kumud and their ‘happy-go-lucky’ daughter Binita form the lovely Bajpai family. There are many characters that keep surfacing through the book- Rahul and his friends, Binny’s girlfriends, the suitors and even Sambhavini, the character from the daily soap that Kumud watches add to the delight of reading the story.

The Review: While there are tons of books that have cropped up in the category ‘humor’, there aren’t many that will make you laugh out loud. Band Baaja Boys, on the other hand, is like a fresh breath of air in the humor section of the bookshelf. Set in a town called Manphodgunj (and the

fun begins right there with the name!) this delightful story follows the chronicles of Binny and her parents.

Brajesh and Kumud welcome you into their world of satin laced bras, air conditioned beauty parlors and their house ‘that had grown like Kumud’s figureunbridled in all directions’. Binny’s naught encounters with the boys as she steps into adulthood are hilarious. The story futher explores the twists and turns in the seemingly ordinary lives of the Bajpai Family. What happens is the end leaves the reader happy and smiling.

What I liked: I loved how the author could find humor in the mediocrity of the lives of the Bajpai family.

They are common and yet different in a

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue hilarious way. The punch lines are amazing. While the book is all tongue and cheek humor, the author has managed to subtly address the blemishes on our society. Lines such as ‘The time when ozone was depleting and Romeos were increasing’ is sure to make you giggle and also make you think.

The story takes us to points where caste lines become important. The author takes a jab at the male dominated culture too, in a very interesting way though. ‘Ignore the dogs’ parents told their daughters. But no parent told their son ‘Don’t be a dog’.

What could have been better: One has to admit that there is an overload of Hindi in the book which makes it difficult for people who don’t know Hindi

read and understand the book. Having said that, the Hindi lines that got our cheeks hurting with laughter, would not have been so funny in English. As they say, the punch is always lost in translation.

Also, how can any combination of words in English bring about the same effect as ‘Bhak’ in Hindi.

‘Bhak’ that builds momentum while it travels up to the throat and finally lands as a spit squarely on the face.

If you are in a gloomy mood or needs a break from all the serious reading, Band Baja Boys should be your go-to book. A light, entertaining and hilarious read, the book is sure to have your sides ache with laughter. We wish the author all the best for this wonderful book!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Ratings: Blurb: 4/5 Narration: 4/5 Writing style: 4/5 Editing: 3.5/5 Excerpt: 4/5 Overall: 4/5 Review by Ketki Yennemadi

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Author Interview –I

Today we have Ms. Rachna Singh the author of “Band Bajaa Boys!"

Rachna Singh writes in the areas of humour, love, and organizational development.

She believes in living in the moment, cherishing life as it comes, and reaping the most of every moment.

Born and schooled in Allahabad, Rachna studied at St. Mary’s

Convent and, subsequently, at the University of Allahabad.

She inherits her wicked humor from her father, Ajit Thakurdas, and her love for writing from her mother, Kamalini Thakurdas, who writes in poetry and prose in Hindi.

Rachna has worked in the area of Learning and Organizational Development for almost two decades.

She has worked at Tata Motors, Infosys, Spice Telecom and Dell.

Married to Alok, alumni, IT-BHU(Meta, ’93), and IIMLucknow(’98), Rachna has two children, Aisha and Prithviraj.

The author plans to continue writing, across genres, giving her readers something

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue new to relish, each time.

The blurb of her book reads: BA-pass Brajesh sold bras in Manphodgunj.

Perhaps his destiny was sealed the day Babuji named him Brajesh. Under normal circumstances, Brahmins were not supposed to be businessmen.

But Kumud Bajpai had brought along a hosiery shop as dowry and there was no looking back. Only front. One glance and Brajesh could estimate, ‘Madam, 38D will be perfect.’

Together, they had produced and raised Binny, their twentyyear-old daughter who they lovingly called a ‘happy-golucky’ girl: happy to spend her father’s money while different fellows got lucky.

Binny was now an undergraduate

student at the University of Allahabad and classmate Gajendragoing-bald was besotted with her. He would smile in her general direction throughout the entire lecture. One day at the lab, she had leaned over his workbench, letting her dupatta slip to allow a peek at her cleavage and had pouted, ‘What is in your hands?’ A lot was in his hands later that evening. Now, Binny was in love with Rahul, or, to be more precise, his situation. You see, Rahul was a rich man’s son and stayed in a palatial bungalow with an army of alert minions. When they yelled, ‘Ramu, Tiwari, Jagdamba’, servants would jump out of the pores of the house in an instant to serve them. But, unknown to Binny, Raja was in love with her and had won over Brajesh’s heart by eliminating

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue goon Ramlal from the encroachment next to Kumud Hosiery and Bedding.

To complicate things further, her parents were looking for a suitor. She had asked best friend, Manjul with feigned exasperation, ‘Marriz… marriz… why human beens need to do a marriz? Why?’ But Manjul was a pious girl, easily outraged into calling out to God. Let’s help Chumki elope with Azhar. Hey Bhagwaan.

Let’s eat two-two icecreams. Hey Bhagwaan.

Binny’s latest plan was so alarming that Manjul was compelled to summon all possible gods, some even borrowed from other religions, to express her utter and complete shock.

Will Binny choose ‘gorment’-job-holder Tarun or SanskariN.R.I Harsh? Would Raja be able to win her heart? How long will

Brajesh be able to keep the suitors on hold with excuses like: ‘My mother’s deathbirthday is coming’,’Kumud’s chacha has became a widow’, or ‘Our family pandit himself is in Planet Saturn’?

Will Binny execute her dangerous plan?

Band, Bajaa, Boys! is here to take you on the laugh-o-coaster of your life!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Writer's

that is not 24-caratgold funny.

1. It's a tough job to make people laugh.

What made you pick the genre 'humour' for your book?

2. There's a touch of wit and sarcasm to the conversations between the characters. Can we call this signature Rachna style?

Welcome Ezine:

to

Humour comes naturally to me. It’s just the way I am! I want to be a laughter evangelist – a person who brings chortles and guffaws to people’s lives. Don’t we need that badly?

Yes, I agree that writing humour is not easy. When I look at samples of humour writing in India, a get a sense that a lot of work in this genre is laboured, is flat. It fails to evoke laughter.

I am quite harsh on myself when writing humour.

While what I write is frothy, fun, the process is tedious. I review like a crazed woman, weed out, encourage my editor to weed out anything

Definitely. I am at my best in this mode.

While I do write serious stuff occasionally, this is my preferred playing ground.

3. The story is based in North Indian, specifically, Allahabad. Is there a particular reason why you chose that city?

Allahabad is my hometown. I was born there, grew up there.

Band, Baaja, Boys is my tribute to my city that I miss a lot.

4. The story is very pictorial and you can see vivid images of the gallis of Allahabad as you flip through the pages. Did you have to do a lot of

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue research for such attention to detail?

Not really. Having lived there for 23 years of my life, those images and experiences are deeply ingrained. I am still a hardcore ‘Illahabadi’ and break into the dialect at the drop of a hat.

‘Manphodgunj’ (Mumfordgunj) is a locality adjacent to my parental home and the vignettes from the campus are based on my own experiences as a student in Allahabad University.

In the book, Binny riding her moped at its dangerous topspeed of 20 kmph, or Bansi stealing footwear from Hanuman Mandir, or Brajesh estimating a customer’s bra-size with a quick, sweeping glance, or Bijli-ghar waale Sahay-ji’s daughter’s ostentatious ‘wedding-engagement’ ceremony are snatches

from my years spent in Allahabad.

5. Young vibrant and beautiful, we just can't help but fall in love with Binny. Did anyone from real life inspire that character?

There was this girl, a school-senior I knew who was a raging beauty and boys fell for her like nine pins. She was quite aware of that and used it to her advantage.

Binny is inspired from this girl – short-statures, creamy skin, long, lustrous hair. But, while this girl was purely evil and left carcasses of malehearts in her wake, Binny is more humane.

6. With all their small-town aspirations and funny bones, the Bajpai family is indeed endearing. What made you conjure up these characters?

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

I don’t know if I am biased or if it is the truth – people in Allahabad are so multi-hued, multidimensional and quirky.

While creating each of my characters, I have drawn from people I knew or came across, casually. While no one character is entirely based on any one person I knew, all are inspired from real people.

Kumud Bajpai’s kachori-counting, thrifty ways, or Brajesh’s daily paanroutine before reaching the shop are what you’d pick in general from folk in Allahabad.

7. Given a chance, is there anything about the book that you would like to change.

Yes, and some of my readers have also fantasized along with me on the same: change who ultimately gets Binny! But, we all agree that the ending

of BBB mirrors the reality. So, that was meant to be.

8. The splash of Hindi and a pinch of Bollywood masala makes this book very Indian. Is that a surefire recipe to a successful novel?

Maybe. But, the Indian reader loves variety and will pick up any genre or style that has been crafted with skill and the plot grips their imagination.

9. What is Rachna Singh like outside the world of books?

Thoughtful, quiet at times. But mostly, a merciless mimic, a prankster and a brat.

10.Band Baaja boys is a wonderful book and we can't wait to read more from Rachna Singh. Is your next work in the pipeline?

Thank you! I am working on two manuscripts currently. One is a

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

humorous (yes!) account of my breast cancer journey and the other is a funny, inspiring story based in the city that adopted me: Bangalore.

But before that, hopefully two anthologies that I have contributed to, should be out.

Thank you very much for your time.

Interview by Ketki Yennemadi

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Zing Up the Barren

She prepares “modaka (a traditional sweet delicacy)” to offer Lord Ganesha and performs the evening rituals of the Pooja to get a good life partner. Meet her she is Sudha, an orthodox girl from a small remote village in India; now pursues her graduation studies and going good with it. Hence, she is her parent’s pride with all the perfect offspring qualities highlighted in BOLD and neighbour’s envy kind of child. On the contrary, with her conceited attitude, destiny takes a roller coaster ride of her life.

Sudha comes from a big family and has 3 siblings and her father is a lazy goldsmith by profession and treats

everyday as a Sunday and mother is a tailor but with her health conditions she scarcely takes up any orders. Out n out, live for today and spend everything today and next day beg/borrow from your closed ones.

Amid the family condition's, the responsibilities of the eldest child and conservative upbringing; Sudha falls for Arun from her college. Arun a flirtatious guy and never serious about any girl. But Sudha is totally mesmerized and falls head over heels for Arun. She does not want to think about the aftermath and spends relentless time with Arun in and off the college campus. As the saying goes: “fire spreads faster than perfume”, very soon their affair comes to everybody’s notice and gossip mongers have real treat to libel Sudha’s

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue behaviour.

Sudha’s parents come to know about her affair, they panic about her future and decide her to get married as early as possible to Madhav. Meet Madhav, a distant cousin of Sudha and a daily wages labourer by profession. He left his education at a young age as he had very little interest to pursue further education and a hasty guy. Sudha with all the conflicts in her mind decides to get married with Madhav.

Marriage takes place and soon after the marriage the bride and the groom head to Madhav's place but destiny had something else in store for Sudha. Sudha with a married life gets a topple with the slanderous talks

about her affair by petty people and this falls into Madhav’s ears. Madhav in a tizzy state, gets totally drunk and confronts Sudha about her affair. Highly conceited Sudha about her looks and education gives back to Madhav that her affair with Arun was more than marriage.

This retort from her takes a toll in everybody’s life and her married life gets a full stop!

Life seemed like a barren land for her and her parents. The same petty people had even more spicy talks about Sudha’s toppled marriage. She had left her education midway and now a broken marriage.

She was surely a fighter and did not get hazy about

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue her future. Time flies; as she started to come out of the emotional down, Sudha got involved into women empowerment programs and starts her own entrepreneurship of a condiments store. Her one wrong move towards Arun during college days brought a turmoil in her life and a lesson learnt for herself! Later, her parent’s incautious move towards Madhav and lesson learnt for everyone! Now, she is happy single with her family and supports her family. With her new venture, she accomplishes her sibling’s education and the family is doing good. And the very much barren land is no more and now flourished and rays of life and possibility everywhere around her.

About Ashwini Ajjappa Arkachari: Ashwini is an engineering Graduate has 6 years of experience in IT field and currently a homemaker and mother of two beautiful daughters.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Shades and the Brush

Packed was I in a small crystal clear bottle, I was its identity The blue bottle, the red one or the green goblet Though when around you all time, I am not given fame My fame comes with my name But where is my name?

The flower is adored for its vibrant delicacy The pretty butterfly for its colorful flutter

The sky for its iridescent ambit The rainbow for its seven 'me' Sometimes I wonder if it's me Or the bodies carrying me Who is adored more?

Fuddles me to the core!

One day sitting inside a tiny tube I was resting inside the dark lube Suddenly someone pressed me Scuffled me Strangled me

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Tussled I, came out with a heavy breath Breathing freely I was at ease A slender stick with soft fiber fondled me A little shy I was at such an endearing gesture Coaxing me gently I felt the quiver I mingled in him in a trice like the way you gulp a mango slice No longer I was me, captivated in a color tube here I was free and liberated with the slender brush Oh sorry! a colorful brush embarked on an advent to a majestic portrait I was now a colored brush brushing along the shades of me on a white canvas leaving behind my indelible imprints.

About Surbhi Bafna: Surbhi Bafna is a relatively shy and quiet girl but profusely loud with her words. Always fond of reading and writing, she started playing with words all by chance. She started her blog – Vivacious Puerile (surbhibbafna.blogspo t.in) as a bet with friends but eventually it turned out as the platform where she scribbled day and night. She still calls herself maiden in this field.

She has written several stories and poems and this story is an addition to the list. She can be reached at surbhi.bafna@gmail.c om.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Rhyme of Your Soul

You search for me relentlessly through the greying leafs of archaic literature.

But don’t you find me in the emphatic effort of a little childtrying hard to envelope a butterfly, fluttering around their tiny nose but ceases from being caught?

You look for me emphatically on the

silver screen, hoping to feel my presence!

But don’t you find me in the inexorable battle that a street seller undergoesrunning amongst halted cars, whose next meal hangs between the red and green light of the traffic signal?

You seek for me in the lyrics of songs, in the melodious tunes

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue of composers, in every creative art possible!

But don’t you find me in those eyes that doesn’t sleep, until you set out on a beautiful dream? In those lips that doesn’t miss a single beat in the rhythm of her prayers for her child!?

You admire and idolize personalities in the desire to reach me; But don’t you find me in the drooping shoulder- that once used to be your shield against all odds and that's still exhibits vigor to stand right next to you if the sailing gets rough?

You look for me in temple, mosque and church, to become whole with me; But don’t you find me in the deepest chambers of your soul? That is subdued in the dungeon of darkness, awaiting to be tapped open!

You hunt for me amidst the palpable, in the middle of the depicted forms; But don’t you know my true existence? I doubt you do! For you would stop searching for me within the tangible.

I am the inspiration within humankind!

Yes, the force that does not let a heart die. Even if it is broken into a zillion pieces.

A heart that has lost the courage to trust again, yet keeps on beating in the hope to emerge stronger.

I am that force which can even blossom flowers on a barren land if believed upon.

I am that latent potential within your very being which can shake the mountains for you.

I am like the first showers of rain that kisses mother earth.

Stop chasing me! Stop running behind!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Embrace me, I can be found in the little things offered on the platter of life.

Catch me if you can!

About Amreen Ahmed: Amreen is an MBA in Tourism Studies from Christ University, currently based out of Bangalore.

She is associated with the Coffee Day Hotels and Resorts as a Senior Executive- Sales and Reservations.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

In Search of Ustopia Through Speculative Fiction

In January 2017, the media reported a rise in the sales of George Orwell’s novel, Ninety-Eighty-Four, also published as 1984.

Rekindled public interest in a sevendecade old book strengthen my opinion about prophetic content in dystopian fiction.

I had documented my thoughts on this in an article for Writers Ezine, where I had explored the prophetic works of American sci-fi writer Philip K Dick.

Early this year, I was drawn to a 2016 Amazon Prime series based on

Dick’s award-winning novel, The Man in the High Castle. The spate of curiosity in and the rendition of dystopian fiction in modern media is a sign of the times. Canadian writer, Margaret Atwood’s speculative fiction, The Handmaid’s Tale, will

be streamed on Hulu as a much-awaited televised series, premiering in April 2017.

As an avid reader of this genre, I relate to many present day happenings, as already penned down for posterity in futuristic novels, or

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue as Atwood prefers to call her work, Ustopian. She says, “All Utopias must contain dystopian elements, and all dystopians must possess utopian ones.”

She debates that a utopian society will ultimately stall progress and suppress ingenuity because of a false sense of stability based on unified societal control and behavior.

As in any society, the rebels will always exist and the state will employ methods of subjugation and correction.

Eventually, society and cultures balance themselves out. And if a society doesn’t find this balance, it perishes as it did in her work, Oryx and Crake.

To strike the balance, our carefully planned, ideal society must crumble and totalitarian rule take over the reins of power.

Popular dystopian writers envision a near-

future of censorship, curbs on individuality, curtailed freedom of thought and speech, and predominance of all-controlling, allwatching state machinery. Ayn Rand documents a society in her novella Anthem, where the “I” is forgotten in the cacophony of the “We”.

Through books, while living on the edge, the fugitives,

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Equality and the Golden One, rediscover individuality.

In suppression and unlawfulness is laid the foundation of a new society, Atwood’s Ustopia!

Books and history emerge as the biggest losers in the collateral damage to the path of reinventing society.

Censorship was the central theme in Ray

profession, until he is introduced to the wonderful treasure of books, of sharing, of talking, and listening. He comes to know of a time when books were legal and people did not live in fear. Montag steals books marked for destruction and meets a professor who agrees to educate him. When his pilfering is discovered, he seeks refuge in a community of individuals, who memorize entire books so they will endure until society once again is willing to read.

We

Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 published in 1953. Guy Montag is a professional bookburner. He doesn’t question his

are overwhelmed by knowledge at your fingertips, rushing to Wikipedia to gather trivia, sapping up breaking news by the minute, foot tapping to chartbusters that are heard

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue today, gone tomorrow, addicted to soap operas, reality television, and flimsy fashion; Ray Bradbury clearly perceived it all as if he was walking amidst us today: “Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of ‘facts’ they feel stuffed, but absolutely ‘brilliant’ with information.

Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.”

Many believe Fahrenheit 451 was inspired by the book burning by Nazis and the use of words for propaganda, but Ray Bradbury suggested the book was not intended as a story about government censorship but about television and a deluge of information destroying interest in reading, particularly good literature. I found it amusing that in an age when most American houses had box blackand-white televisions, Ray imagined the contemporary walled model that incessantly transmits family dramas.

Fahrenheit 451 is on a list of banned books in America.

Like the opposition to Orwell’s 1984, the opposition to Fahrenheit 451 is because the society they depict grows too similar to our own. As

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue the truth of Bradbury’s prophetic vision unfolds between us, we can only wonder how long firemen will continue to put down fires and not start them!

In 1984, Orwell’s protoganist, Winston Smith earns a living through statesponsored distortion of historical facts and daily news so that they comply with the ruler’s ulterior motives and power play. Even language is manipulated; today’s mobile-based and social media language could very well be a counterpart of the Newspeak – the language used in 1984, where new words are concocted, spellings invented and the usage of verbs discouraged. I would put this acclaimed novel in the genre of Horror.

The book, which is a cultfiction of sorts, begins on the premise

of constant fear and a nagging desire to rebel against a political system based largely on absolute power, control, and falsehood. The book ends with the quashing of rebellion, thus displaying the vulnerabilities of man in the face of a larger than life system of control and brainwash. Ustopia is a distant dream in 1984.

Bernard Marx in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, struggles with the desire to know more about and reunite with the lost past, amidst the fear of losing individual identity in the fastpaced world of the future.

Huxley satirizes consumerism and is concerned about the overuse of scientific research.

Bernard reflects Huxley’s notions that society

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue is progressing toward a materialistic and superficial end, in which all things of real value, including the relationships which make people human, will be squashed.

A Brave New World is Huxley’s expression of a fear that mankind will create a utopia by foregoing all that makes life worthwhile.

He presents a consumerist society, dominated by technological advancements, artificial pleasures, and induced happiness based on subconscious conditioning that begins from infancy.

Huxley explores the evils of a seemingly satisfied and successful society, because that stability is only derived from the loss of freedom and personal responsibility.

By getting rid of most

unpleasant things, society also rid itself of many of the true pleasures in life. There’s no real passion. Savage John says: “You got rid of them. Yes, that’s just like you. Getting rid of everything unpleasant instead of learning to put up with it.” This is in line with Atwood’s contention, that even utopia can be as detremintal to mankind as dystopia.

Ustopia is the middle path.

If we compare Orwell’s universe in 1984 with Huxley’s Brave New World, both books forewarn of a day when humankind might fall slave to its own concept of how others should act. They don’t ask whether societies with stability, pacification, and uniformity can be created, but whether or not they are worth creating. Too often people desire things

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue and in wanting romanticize it, are disappointed with the end result.

The characters serve as a reminder that it is necessary to have pain to compare with joy,

defeat to compare with victory, and problems in order to have solutions.

Niel Postman aptly summarized the comparison of the two books“Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.”

Most dystopian books are a shrill war cry to remain vigilant and jealously guard individual freedom.

In an interview in 2013, Margaret Atwood was asked how does it feel to see a world she has fictionalized becoming increasingly real.

She responds, “To see it come true.

I know. It’s scary. But as usual I didn’t put anything in at the beginning that wasn’t already in process.

The question wasn’t “Will they be able to do it?” but “Will they keep trying to do it?”

And the answer is “Yes.” Whether we consider these books to be allegorical, satirical, speculative, prophetic, or fantastical, I will conclude with my own words from my article on Philip K Dick: Maybe the pages hold a

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue warning, may be the pages hold hope, but they definitely hold a lot of reading material for lovers of science fiction.

About Aneesha Myles Shewani: Aneesha Myles Shewani is a full-time professional, managing technical publications in an IT company. Mother to a primary school-going child, she also indulges in the craft of crochet.

A voracious reader she has an everexpanding book list and an envious relationship ith her Kindle. She blogs at www.felinemusings.com and dabbles in 140character fiction at @tweetoeuvre. Aneesha can be contacted at aneesha.myles@gmail. com.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Lady in the Pink Jacket

Bangalore traffic! Her husband had his office in the opposite direction of hers and hence they had to go in their own separate ways of commute.

“Can you please tie your shoe laces before you step out of the door” Tina screamed from the kitchen at her 8 year old son Daniel. “Don’t worry Tina, he will be fine!” replied her neighbor who had come along with her daughter who went to the same school as Daniel, to the bus stop. “Thanks a lot” Tina responded hurrying out of the kitchen.

Tina was packing hers and her husband’s lunchbox for the afternoon and was in a rush as she was already late to college where she taught.

Tina worked part time at a college. Teaching had always been a hobby for her. She had never worked after graduation until recently. Her husband Romi and she were college sweethearts.

Soon after college they both decided to get married.

Tina loved being a home maker. Very soon after marriage she was blessed with Daniel and her son took up almost all her time.

Until recently since he had started going to school, Tina had a lot more free time for herself. And that’s when she decided to teach at a college.

Tina went to college in her scooty. That way she would save time in all the

Tina’s actual ambition was to be a writer. She had been

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue procrastinating that thought for a real long time. That would make her upset at times when she thought about how she wasn’t able to fulfill her dream but then again she would go

back to being lazy and be comfortable in her routine life.

Tina spent her evenings sitting in the balcony with her cup of tea and watching over Daniel who was playing in the garden area of the park. Since a few days now, Tina had started to notice a lady in a pink jacket walk around the park. She was the fastest among

the evening strollers there. And it’s only because of her pink jacket Tina noticed her from a distance.

She smiled to herself thinking of the young lady’s energy.

One winter evening, Tina was at her balcony as usual, this time all covered up in sweater and socks and a shawl around her. It was too chilly outside and she was enjoying her cup of tea. Because of the weather, kids would hardly go out to play too. The lady in the pink jacket was out there in the park, all alone, walking around the park. Tina was quite amused. Some will power this lady has, she thought to herself. The weather is so cold, people are all wrapped up at home and this pink jacket lady is up and about

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue like the weather did not bother one bit.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a thought struck Tina.

She thought to herself about the pink jacket lady’s determination and will power.

Against all odds, she was walking around in the park, she must be a fitness freak. But nevertheless, she was so determined to continue doing what she was doing irrespective of people not being around her or the weather being so bad, but nothing seem to deter the lady. The pink jacket lady was all alone but she would continue doing her thing.

This made Tina think about her own life.

Where had she lost her enthusiasm? Why had she got so used to her mundane routine life that she ignored her own dream of becoming a writer. She had a not

so hectic job, a great family, a husband who is so supportive of everything she does.

But Tina always took all that for granted and never really thought of seriously following her dream.

This was like a wake up call for her.

That night, Tina had decided. She was now going to focus on her dream ambition. She is going to re-initiate her old habit of writing again. And channelize her energy to the direction of becoming a Writer.

Tina felt alive again and rekindled with a fresh bout of energy.

Almost a year and half later, Tina had launched her 1st book as an author. And on the 1st page of her book, she had signed, “Thank you to The Lady in the Pink Jacket”!!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Deeksha Shetty: Deeksha Shetty is a software engineer by profession. She has worked for nearly 6+ years in IT. She is currently a home maker.A hard-core foodie she claims to be.

She is very passionate about dancing.

For the record, she is a trained Bharatnatyam dancer.

Deeksha is a newbie at blogging and has just started it off to kill sometime.

Her blog URL : www.vilaythidesigirl .wordpress.com/

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

She

Disappointments, failures, Losses, sadness, distress and the best of other synonyms of grief struck her continuously without a pause, even after experiencing all these her inner self didn’t let her stop and she dug her way to reach success and happiness. She came across huge grievances untold even to her family and friends, she was bound with only failures to say-she never gave a story of self-success while her other mates of her had their own compilation to render. At times she fell so hard by lending her precious trust to souls who was never worth it-their disloyalty was so attractive that she was in a urge in

giving her conviction to them with unfold eyes. They, who never valued the best trust received, departed from her without any prior notice-this left her with stiff moods which never was to be digested with ease. She THE SOUL even then never thought of any revenge, she just waited with hope to let herself shine. She met a lot of disloyal personalities who only made the best use of her and later dumped for being loyal to them. She had her own ideas to execute a plan, but the superiors didn’t bother to pay any attention to her views and just let her down – that moment

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue disappointment struck her hard.

She remembered the words told by her mother, “Try until you reach your dream, don’t remain as a day dreamer.

God does strew the seed of hope amidst all the failures. It does take time for a seed to blossom and ripen” She utterly gave up the negative vibes around and resumed in search of a positive one. Amidst all those stoned pessimism she was laying there sharpening her strengths, she drilled those hard rocks with her positive thoughts and talent she

pursued all these years, she turned on the switch of confidence and continued to grow upafter feeling the blissful light in her path she remembered those golden lines once said by her mother “God does strew the seed of hope amidst all the failures. It does take time for a seed to blossom and ripen” this time, she never had disappointments, failures, Losses, sadness, distress etc., she just saw herself prettily blossomed amidst that disloyal and hard world who always wanted to see her fall.

SHE, the gorgeousness and elegance was enjoying the light and drizzle on a very elevated position.

Beneath her laid the inelegance and awful

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue humans those who eagerly deserted her from every opportunity and joy with a depressed surface to hold their lives and take it to the next level.

This was HER story of achievement within the borders of rocked failures.

About Shree Lakshmi: Shree Lakshmi is a DREAMER.. A big time dreamer.. She dreams for unachievable destiny and turns it as an achievement with the backing of dreaming. While the world (family and friends) opted to

study on a particular subject like Commerce, Science and Engineering this girl picked up a dare to study the world on the whole. Today she is an MBA graduate in Tourism Management.

She speaks the world, she speaks travel.

That decision of studying travel has implanted 2 new talents in her one being Photography (capturing the beauty unseen in different dimensions) and other being writing (penning what her heart feels at the moment of sensing a thought).

She publishes her thoughts on travelwithverses.wor dpress.com

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Cruising Through the Cracks

The punishing sun burns everything in sight.

The battered land is now bereft of life Forlorn farmer looks around, perks up, At a wild weed, rising from its place of birth.

Her made up face is ready for the charade That face of eternal beauty is just a facade She is happy to strip it off, reveal the cracks

For that one soulful connection that her heart lacks.

The youthful heart was mourning love's loss His ego bruised, his life up in knots, Shirking life, he feels no reason to survive Until, a new face walks by and he revives.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Asha Krishna: For Asha Krishna, writing is a breath of "me time". A journalist in her previous lifetime, she moved to UK after marriage. Two kids and life of domesticity later, she keeps her writing alive through her blog. A full time mum, she likes to inject cultural doses into her children's lives through festivals and Bollywood songs. When she is not tapping away at the keyboard, you will find her singing "Badtameez Dil" with her 5- yearold daughter and 3year- old son in the kitchen. You can catch up with her on ashkrishwrites@gmai l.com

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Book Review – II

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue :Intro: Book Details: Title: Love Forever @ Rajpath Author: Kalpana Mishra Genre: Fiction ISBN: 9382665641 Type: Paperback Publisher: Srishti Publishers & Distributors Language: English Pages: 232 Year of Publication: 2016 Price: 123 Buy Paperback: Amazon

The Blurb: True love can blossom anywhere, in a government set-up too, and can be as permanent as the job itself.

Shalini, a government employee, strongly feels that there is no point in getting married and joining the brigade of abused wives. Till she is swept off her feet by Kartik, a dynamic

colleague from Bihar.

Just when her faith in the system of love and marriage is rekindled and at its peak, Kartik goes missing.

Her search for him reveals some dark secrets about Zabaria Shaadi still existing in Bihar, where eligible boys are abducted or forced for marriage.

A love story at its core, Love Forever @ Rajpath highlights the predicaments of a girl on the verge of losing her most precious relationship. It also reflects the inner turmoil of a young boy sandwiched between age-old traditions and his own liberated opinions.

Will Shalini be able to save her relationship?

Will Kartik acknowledge her efforts or will he abandon her for the sake of his family?

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About the Author: Kalpana Mishra is a Deputy Director in the Government of India. She’s also a visiting faculty to a number of government institutes, schools, colleges and universities, spreading awareness about various issues like gender sensitisation at work place, other gender issues, communication skills, etc. She’s a contributor reviewer and blogger on various blogging sites and her short stories, poems and articles have been published in leading publications.

Her varied interests include acting, writing, voicing and sports. She stays in Delhi with her husband and two kids.

:Book Review: The Cover: A very catchy symbol of lovers against the regal backdrop of Rajpath don the cover of this book. The cover perfectly sums up what's in it's pages.

It's simple, yet captivating.

Narration: The story has been narrated from an

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue omniscient point of view.

The author clearly brings out the feelings and emotions of the characters which makes them more human and relatable.

Language: A very easy of understand yet graceful. While it high on simplicity, it shows the authors clear thought flow and witty sarcasm.

Through her words, the author makes you smile and laugh as easily as she moistens your eyes.

The Characters: The story brings to us a plethora of characters.

The characters keep appearing and disappearing f from time to time. The story revolves around Shalini and Karthik, two government employees, who are quite unlike each other.

Shalini, a staunch feminist, is a career focussed,

independent woman while Karthik, an introvert boy from a conservative Bihari family, who is torn between the two worlds.

The Review: While this book is at heart a love story it gives voice to many pressing issues concerning the women of our society. A love story against the backdrop of a government office might seem a little unusual, however, it supports the central idea of the book that love can happen anywhere.

Shalini, quite unexpectedly find herself in love with Karthik who is in every way her opposite.

After Karthik's love is accepted as proposed (in an interesting wordplay), they embark on a thrilling journey involving their families and the complexities of an

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue inter-caste marriage.

While they struggle to find a golden mean between their cultures, they came across many hurdles.

But Shalini will go to all extremes to win her love. The author talks about the sensitive issue of Jabariya Shadi that still plagues our society. It unveils the psyche of the traditional orthodox Indian families that even today look down upon cross cultural relationships.

The author also explores other issues concerning the rural parts of the country including the lack of public urinals. The story sends out a strong message for the caste-centred, male dominated, dowry seeking community that still exists in some parts of the country.

The story ends conclusively with a happy ending that

makes the readers heave a big sigh of relief.

What I liked: There are few but remarkable romantic moments between Shalini and Karthik that are sure to bring a smile on the readers face. There is a good dose of humor and sarcasm to balance the serious theme of the story. The story is well paced and the characters such as Raavi, Swami sir, Tarun etc. contribute to some unforgettable sweet moments.

Shalini embodies the strength and determination of the modern indian woman in the face of adversity. I am sure that many girls reading the books will instantly be able to relate to her.

What I loved most about the book is that it's a love story with a purpose. It not only makes you rejoice and

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue lament with the characters but also makes you think as it talks about some pressing issues concerning today's India.

What could have been better: The story lacks the quintessential romance that one may expect in a love story.

While there are romantic moments in the book, they are few and scattered. There are a few minors errors that could have been taken care of in the editing of the book. Having said that, the depth of the story makes up for these small fallacies.

about issues that fictions seldom touch and hope that we will get to read more such books from her in the future!

Ratings: Blurb: Narration: Writing style: Editing: Excerpt: Overall: 4/5

4/5 4/5 4/5 3/5 4/5

Review by Ketki Yennemadi

To sum it up, this book is a must read for the young women of our country. The book enshrines the much needed empowerment of women in thought and action. We would like to congratulate the author for writing Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Author Interview – II

Today we have Ms. Kalpana Mishra the author of “Love Forever @ Rajpath"

Kalpana Mishra is a Deputy Director in the Government of India. She’s also a visiting faculty to a number of government institutes, schools, colleges and universities,

spreading awareness about various issues like gender sensitisation at work place, other gender issues, communication skills, etc. She’s a contributor reviewer and blogger on various blogging sites and her short stories, poems and articles have been published in leading publications.

Her varied interests include acting, writing, voicing and sports. She stays in Delhi with her husband and two kids.

The blurb of her book reads: True love can blossom anywhere, in a government set-up too, and can be as permanent as the job itself.

Shalini, a government employee, strongly feels that

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue there is no point in getting married and joining the brigade of abused wives. Till she is swept off her feet by Kartik, a dynamic colleague from Bihar.

Just when her faith in the system of love and marriage is rekindled and at its peak, Kartik goes missing. Her search for him reveals some dark secrets about Zabaria Shaadi still existing in Bihar, where eligible boys are abducted or forced for marriage.

relationship?

Will Kartik acknowledge her efforts or will he abandon her for the sake of his family?

A love story at its core, Love Forever @ Rajpath highlights the predicaments of a girl on the verge of losing her most precious relationship. It also reflects the inner turmoil of a young boy sandwiched between age-old traditions and his own liberated opinions.

Will Shalini be able to save her Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Welcome Ezine:

to

Writer's

1. First book is always very special. What motivated you to write Love Forever @ Rajpath?

Yes, indeed. Through Writer’s Ezine, for the first time, I am revealing that when I started writing Love Forever @ Rajpath, I had actually planned to write my own story.

So, majority of it is based on true events. I had first written a small story of approx.

500 words. I read out the story to real characters involved in the story and they liked it so much and prompted me to expand on it. That story forms the Epilogue of Love Forever @ Rajpath.

2. The title 'Love Forever @ Rajpath' striker a chord with the reader. What lead to the coining of this title?

The story begins from the corridor of powers at Rajpath. Hence, I coined this term Love @ Rajpath. However, as the book is about the struggles of a girl who fights all odds to find her way to the MAN of her life, making it an eternal love story, led to addition of the word “Forever” in between, to make it Love Forever @ Rajpath. My Srishti Publishers and its Proprietor Shri Jayantakumar Bose also helped me in finalisation of the Title.

3.

Shalini, your protagonist, is a girl paving her way in a made dominated world and we can’t help but fall in love with her. is she in some way a reflection of Kalpana?

Yes, she truly is, but she is even stronger in certain episodes given in the book.

Honestly, even I am in love with this

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March 2017 Issue

character. In fact, I fell more in love with it, when I was drafting my second book, where the female lead is exactly the opposite of Shalini in terms of mental strength.

4.

Your lead characters Shalini and Karthik seem to be the diametrical opposites of each other.

Was this intentional or did the characters evolve as you kept writing?

Shalini, no doubt has etched out to be the strongest character.

However, to me, the character of Kartik was equally strong when he manages to convince his people and manipulates his side to achieve the unachievable. But, in our Indian society today, most of the middle class men live in a state of confusion between liberation and tradition. This is true for Kartik as well.

5. You seem have impeccably captured the atmosphere of a government office in all its stereotypes.

Did that come from experience or extensive study of such offices?

First of all, I wish to thank you for your appreciative words. I have been a part of this setup since my birth, being the daughter of two Government servants and later on by virtue of becoming a part of the same set-up. I have heard stories, seen and have been a part of this system so much so that it helped me to capture its nuances.

6. The story unveils the regressive Jabariya shadi system from Bihar. Was this your way of raising a voice against it? do you think this book in any manner can become a catalyst in a change process?

I really hope that this book becomes a

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March 2017 Issue

catalyst in the change process. Through Love Forever @ Rajpath, I have not only tried to bring awareness about Zabaria Shaadi, but have also tried to highlight other social issues like dowry, illiteracy, gender biases, which to my mind is the root cause of Zabaria Shaadi. I have also tried to bring to the fore the importance of Girl Child Education “Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao” and the necessity to construct toilets “Swatch Bharat Abhiyan.”

7. It is evident from your way of storytelling that you are very well read. Which is your favorite book and why?

I mostly like to read Indian Authors. No particular favourite Author as such, but “Life is what you make it” by Preeti Shenoy is one of my favourite books. Manju Kapur’s

“Difficult Daughters” is also written with absorbing intelligence and sympathy. Basically these books brought with them something now, spread awareness about a concept which are not well known, written in simple and lucid language, and most importantly were not chik-lits.

8. It's your debut novel and I am sure this is just the beginning of a wonderful journey.

What's coming next?

I have completed the first draft of my next.

It’s with my beta readers right now for a dekho, and yes it is again about a very sensitive subject with doses of humour thrown in.

9. If there's a single message that you would like to send out to the readers through the book 'Love Forever @ Rajpath', what would that be?

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March 2017 Issue

Never Surrender, when you do something or plan to do something or love somebody, do it with full heart and should never leave it half-way.

10.

Anything you would like to say to those who haven't read the book yet?

Travel with me through the pages of Love Forever @ Rajpath, and I assure you “YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED”.

Thank you very much for your time.

Interview by Ketki Yennemadi

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Ride

It was 9.30 AM on a chilly winter morning in Bangalore and Karan was running late to work. With a slice of bread in his mouth Karan reached his phone to book his UBER. Like every other day he opted for ‘UBER Pool’ and hoped that he wouldn’t get to impart taxis to any other person so he could reach his workplace early.

‘DING’, his phone beeped and the app said ‘Arriving in 3 minutes.

You are pooling with Sakshi.’

He had no alternative, however take that cab to work that day. As the cab arrived he ran down to grab his seat next to the driver. He saw a young lady on the backseat of the car and recalled what her name was. ‘Darn it!’ he

thought occupied playlist.

and with

got his

It was simply after they were stuck in the traffic for around 10 minutes, Karan happened to look at rearview mirror. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop looking at the mirror anymore.

She was simple yet elegant with sharp features.

It was simply impeccable as he looked at her reading a novel and all he could just wish for was to be the wind that played along with her wavy hair.

He looked back into his phone to check her name and learnt that it was ‘Sakshi’. He wished he could know more about her and glanced at the rearview mirror several times. He realized he was behaving like a creep and that was the last thing he would

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue want her to assume.

Unfortunately for him, his destination was before Sakshi’s and therefore he wouldn’t even know where she was heading to.

Karan spent his entire day contemplating Sakshi and trusted he would get the opportunity to see her once more. He thought about some insane plans with a hope to track her down and acknowledged he was turning into a crazy stalker. Every day after that day Karan started his day wishing for Sakshi to be his cab mate however perhaps that is was not bound for him. He eventually gave up on the fact that he will ever get to see her again.

After nearly a month, on a late Friday evening Karan booked

a UBER to head home.

He sighed at the fact that he was pooling the cab with 2 other people. Once the cab arrived he saw a man had already occupied the seat next to the driver and he had to sit on the rear seat. He was pretty occupied with his playlist when he heard someone talking

to him. He unplugged his earphones to respond to that person and was spellbound to see Sakshi beside him.

He was suddenly in this bollywood moment where everything around him stops and goes mute.

Sakshi asked him where he was heading to with a hope that she would not

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue have to wait in the cab for long. After he responded to her he was glad that she started the conversation and that he could ask her the same. He learnt that she lived very close to his apartment. He was thankful about the traffic on the streets of Bangalore, he now knows her fairly well to track her down on the social network.

An hour and a half was enough for Karan to know that: A. She was an interior designer B. She lived closer to his apartment C. She seemed like she was interested in him too.

And he made sure that she knows that:

A. He is an artist in a gaming app company B. He lives closer to her (so they can probably catch up) C. He is just being friendly (doesn’t want her to feel that he is a creep) Karan had quite a productive day. He wasn’t disappointed that he could not ask her for her mobile number because he knew he could find her on Facebook . But he believed it was too early to approach her and this could just ruin everything.

After about a week Karan and Sakshi happened to be cab mates on the way to their workplace and this time he was happy to see that she was glad to see him too.

The trip went on with casual conversation and almost when the cab was arriving at his destination, Karan asked “Hey.. We should totally catch

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue up some time.”

Sakshi’s face lit up.

She responded,”Yeah!

Sure!”

Karan followed, “So do you mind if we exchanged numbers?” She mumbled “Phew! I thought you’d never ask”.

Karan pretended like he didn’t hear her but in his mind he was doing the ‘chicken dance’.

desperate (Karan’s reaction to this, “Haha! Ditto!”) and it was UBER that finally got them together.

4 meetings, 3 cafes, 1 pub, a couple of coffees, 3 pitchers of beer and Karan learnt that Sakshi was as interested in him as he was in her. She had noticed him the very first time when he was stealing glances in the rear view mirror.

She had then tried to track him down on social media only to learn there are a million of “Karans” across the world. She had also spotted him in the locality a couple of time but was reluctant to approach because she didn’t really want him to feel that she is

About Alka Purushotham: Alka Purushotham is an Associate programmer (in a pharma company in Bangalore, India) by profession but writing is something that came to her during her hard times.

It helped her come out of her depression. Now she writes to make people happy.

Her writing is simple and subtle and all she intends is, to make her readers happy. She hopes her writing interests the readers.

Email: alka23.1990@gmail.co m

2 years and they are still going strong.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Melody of Love

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Description: Pop Art Painting, an American Art form, known for the bold and bright colors and comic characterization of the figures.

About Daman Singh: For Daman Singh, creating means living, whatever form it comes in. She just wants to create things.

Professionally a painting artist, she writes to get away from the hustle bustle of life. Painting and writing together brings out the human in her. Where she experiments with bold and bright colors in her paintings, she likes delving into the black and white realm while she writes; she paints merging colors and lines into a pop art form, she likes writing about the

deepest human emotions in verse form. Being an avid reader and a keen observer of things and people around, she is fond of mingling imagination and reality.

Painting and writing came naturally to her.

She grew up in an artistic atmosphere where her mother loved collecting paintings and crafted decors while her father was fond of creative writings.

Painting and writing, both relate respectively to the body, the mind, the emotions and the essential balance between these three.

She strives for originality in her works and endeavor to touch hearts.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue

Hopeful Mirage

Life.

A desperate longingPersistent desire, For a life never relished.

Optical illusion of the unattainable.

Distant dreams outlying.

Probing for the itinerary, Phony luminance, A semblance of insight.

Perceptiveness in perceiving life,

Delusively.

The Profoundness.

'The Metamorphosis'Nihilistic and a void.

To entomb.

A self-devastation!

About Bhadra V. G.: Bhadra V G is a literature student. A nocturnal being and a selenophile, she has intense passion for poetry writing.

Silent existence and violent thoughts, describes her in brief.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue

From One Point to Another

I would sum up myself in few words.

A qualified Company secretary and a law graduate.

Content writer.

Content curator. Copy editor.

A writer. A baker by passion. A hacker who hacks into people’s mind and digs out their real self. Not a rule book follower. A typical Sagittarian.

Impulsive. A home bird. A rebel. A doting mother.

carving a niche in the poetry world with my first poetry collection, “The Soul Charmer” up on Amazon kindle store. I debut as an Author with this book though I have contributed to an anthology before too.

Talking about my debut, this book is a

This will sump up my accomplishments till date and I do not intend to stop there. I have already started Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue trivial, yet long dreamt attempt to portray love in its entirety. Love, as simple, or as profound as it can be, embraces every human relationship.”

All through the book, various hues of love are reflected. Love, in its most innocent form, when it is between a daughter and a father. Or then, in the most sensuous form, when it is between a man and a woman. Perhaps, in its most gruesome form, when it is clasped by the chains of patriarchy. And, the most powerful of all, the kind of love where one discovers their true self- the love for one’s own being.

Writing is something that comes naturally to me. I was 8 when I started writing poems and my dad used to take a lot of pride in making me recite the

poems before the guests. I was a very shy child and even in my free periods would just scribble and get lost in my thoughts. I did my Company Secretary-ship and went on to pursue law.

Writing did take a backseat but never vanished. When I was working with my practicing firm, I used to contribute towards their legal ejournal. It was only after taking a sabbatical post marriage and then an even longer sabbatical post my baby that I switched to writing full time. I started off as a content writer and freelance website content curator. I am a regular blogger at MyCity4Kids, India’s largest mom network and it helps me to vent out the deep hidden thoughts.

I then worked on a novel as a copy editor and started exploring similar avenues.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Writing is an escapade for me. An escape into oblivion.

From content writing to creative writing and from a writer to a published author, the journey has been nothing short of an interesting one. Got to learn a lot. Have a long way to go and I believe, someday, I am able to touch few lives through my words.

I am very happy to see how the literary arena is welcoming more women writers and they are being lauded for their works.

I see a lot of people trying their hands-on poetry and there is no harm in it. But, just rhyming or free verse won’t guarantee a good poem or will not make you stand out as a poet. It has made writing poetry easy, but poetry is not just about these two things. The essence of

poetry is in aligning the thoughts perfectly and creating the right imagery.

Thanking her publishers, she said “I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to my publishers, Chetan Soni and the entire team at Half baked beans who were extremely supportive and give me creative liberty. It is in such n environment that people actually satiate their creative hunger. They baked up my dreams beautifully.

I plan to finish my novel soon on which am working these days.

I believe every great masterpiece requires a great deal of patience and perseverance. So is with writing. I hope to give my best to my books.

Believe in yourself.

Life is too short to

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue postpone your desires.

You can go through my work here About Richa Saxena: “Before I say final Goodbye; let me touch your soul”.

A soul charmer, indeed. A dreamer. A tale knitter. Plays with words like fire.

There is a fire in her heart that keeps her going.

Meet her once and you would become a fan of Sir Isaac Newton.

“Every action has an equal and opposite reaction”. To know more, bounce your ideas on her and you’d know.

A qualified Company secretary.

A law graduate.

Content writer.

Content curator. Copy editor.

A writer. A baker by passion. A hacker who hacks into people’s mind and digs out

their real self. Not a rule book follower. A typical Sagittarian.

Impulsive. A homebird. A rebel. A woman of substance. A doting mother. A caring wife.

A proud daughter.

Different roles, different shades. And she plays them all with Elan!

Words come to her naturally and she bares her heart out to the world. Writing is an escapade for her.

She lives in her words. A childhood love with words that turned into a serious relationship with time.

When she is not bleeding her thoughts on the blank canvas, loves to be with her family, travel, and explore. A voracious reader. Danielle Steel fan.

Tea addict.

She is a book that you cannot leave unread.

That’s Richa Saxena.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

I Miss the Soft Imprints of Your Butterfly Kiss

There is a long journey traversed From being lost in your love To have lost you my love

from the enemy's knight You always won but your queen was sacrificed

Some moments bizarre and futile Recurring responsibilities and the tide of time Swept me away from your warm embrace

Need I ever say, I desired you day and night Waiting for the endless wait To get over and you remember our golden lovelorn days

In the chessboard of our life Your queen felt pawned defending you

The soft imprints of your butterfly kiss on my temple

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Which stroke in me a thousand emotions and tinkles Are what I crave for before I choose to perish I was slowly drifting away from you in my mind When I realised Satisfaction is the hardest thing to find The vicious circle of life has only made our love more profound Satisfaction is truly a state of mind It’s as simple as asking you will like to hold your nose which way around Complications and circumstances may screw things, but that's fine As long as in the limited time, our lost love we find Don't push our relationship, just caress it gently with our touch tender I promise things surely will turn

better and this time forever.

About Roma Gupta Sinha: Known to the world as Destiny's Chosen Child, Roma is an automobile engineer who has successfully completed many global assignments, until she embraced her first love,writing, full time as it satiated her soul.Though writing for infinity now, in 2014 she gave birth to her blog www.trulyyoursroma.c om and is known for her prowess in candid portrayals of realtales and human emotions as is evident from her first book'Dare to Defy the Destiny'.Felicitated with numerous awards including Woman of the Year 2015, she aims to deploy the power of her pen to improve the world we live in.

Shecan be reached at roma.shobhit.sinha@g mail.com

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Earth - Our State

We haven’t changed as we pretend Discrimination was in the past and we still do.

As a nation just the inflation rate has grown but we live back in the era where racism was sown.

No technology, no privatization, no globalization has made any difference

For we only think of caste, religion, region and NO SENSE. Loving someone and Marrying out of community are misdeeds Assassinations, homicide in the name of religion are justified deeds.

Separated by Gods, we have the same skin; a heart to love Everybody wants to spread their message like a mourning dove.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Is it really burdensome to respect each one and unite?

Stout-heartedness is in acceptance and pool to ignite.

Now is the time to abandon the age-old thoughts, it’s not too late, All this is possible when we shall consider Earth as Our State.

About Ruchi Shitole:

Ruchi is Graduate of Mass Media, currently working as a Content Writer. She is a Traveller, Foodie, Blogger, Aspiring writer, Story-Teller, Language Lover and Nature girl. She is new to the backpacking world, with her next adventurous trip to the North-East of India in 40 days.

You can follow her blog: http://ruchishitole.b logspot.in/

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

A Silky Bite

She had no necessity to oscillate, for she met the guy, any girl would dream of.

Without a pause, she simply ticked off the checkboxes, one behind the other, because he was the quintessential kind of guy. Flaws and mistakes of each other, were never a stumbling block, as they got buried, in the energetic web of love.

With a kind of charm, he carried on the sensible and witty conversations to the next level. Each meet

was better and both their minds highfived and anticipated the next. The path of love, meandering on a silky tone, came to a screeching halt.

In fact, there are two sides to every story. All of a sudden, he did not respond to messages, ignored her calls and stopped seeing her.

It only triggered a spark of silky memories and biting pain for which she had no answers. That’s what sucks about love.

A silky bite.

About Viji Nathan: Viji Nathan is a responsible homemaker, whose passion for reading, has taken a different turn and she loves to write and post her scribbling on fb. This short story narrated carries sweet moments of her daughter’s date.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

A Day Seaside

at

the

It was a beautiful warm summer's day at the seaside on the South Coast of England. The beach was absolutely packed with families lying on the sand, some were lying on blankets and the elderly sat on deck chairs.

A man in a uniform with a ticket machine slung around his neck, moved through the crowds collecting the tariff for the hire of the deck chairs.

Some old timers would get off the chairs and sit on the sand until he had passed. Thus, avoiding the charge of a few pennies. Their

delight at outwitting the official was far in excess of the amount of money saved.

Some African men went among the holiday makers, and tried to sell those highly coloured carpets and cheap watches.

Every now and again a man or a woman would peel off from the family unit and go in

search of cold drinks or cones of ice cream available from the nearby kiosks.

Small children would be hurriedly taken, by

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue their mothers, to the toilets.

All the while you could hear loud and cheery music being played in the small cafes situated just above the sands.

A small enclosure nearby had bouncy castles and roundabout for the children.

Everything, including the soft drinks and the ice creams were highly overpriced, as was the food in the cafes. You had to pay for the convenience of having it available.

Some frugal families had brought their own sandwiches and bottles of lemonade or Coca Cola, flasks of tea and plastic mugs to drink out of would be produced from large beach bags, which had usually been carried by the mums. A gallon can of plain water was

carried by the dads; this water was used for quenching your thirst in the hot sun and also to rinse your hands before eating your sandwiches. Sandwich es were usually filled with cheese and sliced tomato, the more adventurous had hot dogs and hamburgers with tomato ketchup that trickled down the diner's arms as they bit into their delicious food.

Others had brought meat pies or Cornish Pasties, that had gone cold, but who cared.

There was a carnival atmosphere, and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Children would go down to the sea with their buckets and spades to make sandcastles with moats. Medieval flags and the odd union jack would be stuck on the turrets of the castles.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue Suddenly there was the unmistakable ''hee haw, hee haw'' of an ambulance approaching.

The paramedics were guided by a frantic woman to a deckchair on the very crowded beach.

All the holidaymakers turned around to see what was happening.

The paramedics laid this elderly man down on the sand and started giving him artificial respiration.

They eventually put him on to a small carry chair and accompanied by the now crying woman they returned to the ambulance.

Word spread like wildfire that an old man, sitting on a deck chair, had quietly died in his sleep. What a lovely way to go!!

Everyone was in a sombre mood for a while then slowly it was all forgotten and the carnival-like

atmosphere returned to the beach.

Boys in swimming trunks swam in the sea, sometimes they were accompanied by their mothers and fathers, while the girls in very skimpy bikinis paraded around in small groups, they were stared at and some lads in groups would give a wolf whistle which the girls pretended not to hear.

They were pleased to be noticed, that was the object of all the parading around.

Some girls modelled themselves on Hollywood actresses and wore straw sunhats and dark glasses. Some of the older teenagers could have given the supermodels a run for their money, any day of the week.

There were shrieks from the sea as the

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue swimmers splashed water on each other.

Some adults and children floated on inflated rubber rings, their faces to the sun.

The swimmers would return to their family groups, covered in sand, and had to dry off before the sand could be brushed off.

Sometimes a person would come hopping along with blood pouring from a cut foot.

Broken bottles were always a danger in these places. The patient would have to go to the first-aid station to have his cut dressed.

If the cut was very deep they would be advised to go to the hospital to have stitches and an antitetanus injection.

During the day, the mothers and fathers and all the young children would have lots of sun creams rubbed on them, to

ward off sunburn, but the macho teenagers spurned such girly things. They would suffer agonies the next day as their skin blistered and started to peel.

In mid-afternoon, the whole beach seemed to quieten down as the children got tired of running around and the mums and dads shut their eyes and tried to get some sleep.

The teenage girls now attached themselves to the groups of boys and all went off in search of ice cream.

Even so the girls were very solicitous for the welfare of each other and kept a sharp look-out to see that nothing amiss took place. A lot of hugging and kissing behind the beach cafes seemed to be quite acceptable.

Women would produce magazines, which they made half-hearted attempts to read.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Someone would light up a cigarette, which they would quickly extinguish because of the mutterings from their approximate neighbours.

As the day wore on then as if by magic, all the holidaymakers awoke from their slumbers.

They finished off the last of their cold drinks and as is the English custom, the children were sent to dispose of all the waste in the litter bins provided.

A last coating of camomile lotion was applied to sunburnt skin and shirts and blouses were put on.

Now the much lighter, beach bags were repacked and all the sand dusted off from arms and legs. Shoes and socks were carried by hand until they got off the sand before these items were put on.

The whole crowd that had arrived in the morning, looking as white as ghosts, now returned home looking as red as beetroots. They would suffer for days with sunburn, but how would anyone know that you had been to the seaside, unless you were sunburnt.

Slowly the crowd would make their way to the bus or the railway stations, for the long journey back to the large cities.

The trains would be packed with people with smiling faces.

The English reserve would be cast to the winds and strangers would be talking to each other recounting their happy day.

Some families would delay going home, as if reluctant to end a very enjoyable day at the seaside.

The whole beach looked as if no one had

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue ever been on it. Not a scrap of litter could be seen anywhere and the incoming tide would soon wash the spilt soft drinks from the sands.

Everything would be ready for the next batch of holiday makers.

About Author: Roderick Chalmers

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Bloom and My Gloom

down in my CV. Then I can relax for the rest of my life in India".

But then...things happen when you aren't seeing!

It was July evening.

News articles about the prevailing water crisis and failing harvests had jammed my heart. There was also something else bothering me.

Things happen, when you don't plan them.

Things happen, those you never thought about. Things happen, right when it was least expected! I was tempted to go with a

I badly wanted to shift abroad and chase my MBA dream. But that wasn't easy...it meant I had to forget home and family for maybe...most part of my life!

You never know what life can make you do.

Most of the people emigrating are heard to say things like "Oh! It’s just for a year or two" ...or even like "I only want a good experience to put

determination to come back and not be one of them. But I was well aware of the fickle minded human brain we all have.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue I was taking my daily stroll in the village fields when suddenly I noticed something bright, yellow and flared... staring at me at some distance.

Slightly taken aback, I changed my direction and now headed towards the ‘unidentified’ object.

I approached the object with a lot of apprehension... and interest at the same time!

A flower! Can this be real? Entire field was a barren land by now.

How could this little thing survive here amidst the heavy dearth of almost everything?

I was slightly shocked. I bent down to touch the petals.

Soft...tender...as if the scorching sun didn’t matter at all. I sat down in disbelief with a thud, my mouth left agape.

I asked the flower...

“How did you grow up?”

“What a weird question! I grew up because I have my mother” the flower twisted it’s face and replied.

Taken aback by the ‘talking’ flower, I asked it “O wow! So, you can talk?”

“I told you just now that I have a mother.

She knows how to talk and she made me learn it!” The flower faced me in anger.

I looked around here and there. Unable to find any other plant in the vicinity in that parched field, I turned to face the tiny one again.

“And where does your mother happen to be?”

“My mom visits me every day this time.

Stand here for a few more minutes and maybe you would be lucky enough to meet her!”

“Ow! So, your mother can walk from place to place?” I inquired.

“Yeah!

She is my mother. She can do

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue anything!” it claimed happily.

My interest increasing by manifolds, I sat down at some distance in wait of a mother plant that could walk!

After a few minutes, I saw a small girl coming towards the plant with a small cup in her hand.

She approached the plant and sat down beside it. The already bright flower seemed to glow and bloom all the more when it saw the girl.

Normally by evenings, the flowers were supposed to curl back ...and not bloom.

Right?

Well, next the girl poured the cup of water to that plant slowly and affectionately.

The flower seemed to wear a satiated smile with each drop of water... as if it was something more than just water!

The girl sat there for

the next half an hour talking sweetly with the excited flower.

She caressed its petals once in a while.

Her conversation wasn’t one sided. The flower replied back equally enthusiastic.

She often bent down to kiss the bloom.

Then she stood up, waved the tiny one a loving good bye and promised to come back.

The next thing I heard was a shrill voice “Hey! So, did you like my mother?”

“Yeah! She is amazing!” was all I could say.

I got two very important learning of my life that day.

‘It’s not relations that define love in living beings. It’s the love between any two beings that define their relation.’

The flower had grown up seeing the face of the little girl. It didn’t know who or what she was. Had it not been for her unconditional love,

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue that lone plant would have found it impossible to survive in the unfavourable circumstance.

Secondly, ‘Love is the strongest emotion in the history of mankind’ It can make the most impossible come true!

There was no way the little plant could have survived the terrain and the heat.

Even if it got sufficient water, it would have succumbed to its loneliness sooner or later because it’s not just dietary requirements a living one needs!

Be it a man or a Donkey, bush or a bloom...Love is the essence of life and the foundation of our existence.

Our relations are sustained by our proximity to the person.

I felt I couldn't stay blessed trying to stay away from people who loved

me. I may become successful if I go for my dream and work hard but who knows!

Perhaps I will never feel content!

And contention is more important than anything in life...be it success, money, love or dream...if you aren't content, there develops an inescapable void!

That little bloom and that brisk walk solved my problem in a least unexpected way...at the most unexpected time...

My mom's lines were inconsistently ringing in my ears "Do whatever you want but please stay with us" Yeah! She is right. She knows it’s important to stay blessed!

Sometimes you have to give up your dreams when something you never thought about happens with you!

Strange is life...but then that's what defines life!!

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Nupoor Raj: Nupoor is a writer turned author with her 1st novel "it won't be the same". She has been involved in a lot of story and poem writing contests and had been an active participant in school magazines. She is also a national level Table tennis and state badminton player, exhibiting her versatility.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

Veg. Cheese Capsicum (with added vegs)

Ingredients: 1 big size capsicum 1 medium size onion 1 small size tomato 1 small size cucumber 5-6 cashews 4 large sized green chillies 1 tsp red chilli powder 1/2 tsp Everest garam masala 1 Britannia Cheese Slice Cumin seeds Asafoetida Turmeric powder Oil Ghee Salt Water Coriander for garnishing

Procedure:

Soak the cashews in lukewarm water and keep aside. Dice the capsicum, onion, tomato and cucumber (make slice of a part of it for garnishing) – I added some slices to the vegetable as well.

Divide the diced onion in three parts.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue Use one part with cashew to make a paste.

Keep a pan on burner on medium flame and add 2 tsp oil and 1 tsp ghee. Add cumin seeds and let it splutter.

Add Asafoetida, green chillies and the 2/3 of the diced onion and fry until the onion is golden brown, add turmeric powder, add cashew + onion paste, garam masala and red chilli powder and mix well. The oil in the pan mixes with the paste, fry until you see it coming out into the pan again.

(Ensures a nice oily layer on top of the veg) Add the diced capsicum and mix well.

Add cucumber after some time and mix well.

(cut into pieces for easy melting) directly into the pan. Stir continuously until you see the cheese melt.

Add diced tomato. Add salt and water and let the veg cook on medium (slightly on lower side) flame.

Garnish Coriander cucumber slices serve hot. Eat naan or paratha.

with and and with

Increase the burner flame to high and add the britannia cheese Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue About Arti Honrao: Author of fiction books titled 'My Life story' and 'Is This Love & Autumn - The Last Leaf' and novel 'Resemblance - The Journey of a Doppelganger' Arti enjoys writing short stories on Relationships.

She has attempted writing different form poems but most enjoy writing Prose poems where she gets to express without the limitations of words or rhyming. Most of her writings depict human feelings and emotions, which she tries to bring onto the page and into the minds of the reader.

She believes that essence of writing lies in not only entertaining the reader, but speaking to them through words.

She can be reached at contact@artihonrao.n et

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue

The Haunting Memories

He looked at her sitting at the table, across him; her mesmerizing eyes staring back – expressing love and devotion she had just for him. He had been selfish lately, avoiding her and ignoring her needs; needs which, as a husband it was his duty to fulfil. She had been understanding, perhaps too understanding towards him, accepting the way he was, the way he had returned from war – broken.

He had seen too much, been through too much to come back home and lead a normal life. His time at war had

changed something inside of him, he was not the same man he used to be. How was he going to tell his wife that? How was he going to tell her that whatever had happened at the war was irreparable?

Nothing, no treatment would ever be able to ‘fix’ that in him. He had lost a part of himself there, left the

remaining part there willingly and now he was just an empty shell that moved around doing things he had to do, just for the sake of doing it.

There was one thing he was not capable of, anymore. He could not love.

When he had returned home, she had

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue welcomed him with love. She had hugged him and kissed him on the lips. That hurt.

The hug had felt as if he had been tied with a rope and the kiss burned his lips. He had not been able to kiss her back and that’s when she had known that something was wrong. She had maintained her distance since then.

She had let him sleep alone on the couch, the way he preferred.

She had requested him to go to therapy for his PTSD. He knew he was far gone beyond that. Yet, he went for the therapy.

Things seemed to be improving, or that’s what his wife thought.

He was back on their bed but the distance between them still existed. He used to have nightmares but therapy had helped him with the nightmares. There was something else though, which the

therapy could not help him with. As far as his wife was concerned, she was happy to see the positive changes in him; she did not know what he was going through putting up an act like that for her only because he thought she deserved that much happiness from him.

It was their wedding anniversary and he had asked her out on a date at their favourite restaurant.

This much he could do for her.

He was worried about what was going to come later on.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He did not know whether he was ready for it just yet. He looked at his wife again, a crease had formed between her eyebrows.

He smiled and she relaxed. For the first time, he had done

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue something without telling her but he had no choice, he had excused himself to go to the washroom and there he had popped the pill.

They stepped out of the hotel after dinner and she shivered and wrapped her arms around her once they were out in the cold night. He had not brought his car saying that they’d walk back home. He removed his coat and put it around her. She held his hand and they walked together. He was not in a hurry to go home. They walked until she said she could not take the cold anymore. It had been pleasant earlier, it was not supposed to be this cold.

As always, he did not feel anything. He was used to extreme temperatures but his wife was not. It made no sense dragging her on the street while

she was cold. He hailed a cab and they got in.

They stepped into the warmth of their apartment and his wife relaxed but he tensed. They walked into the bedroom after removing their shoes and his wife took off the coat and placed it on the couch. He sat on the couch and took off his tie. He did not make eye contact but he could see that she was looking at him. As he stared at the floor, he saw his wife’s dress falling off on the floor. He did not look up at her; and assumed that by now she must have changed into her night-gown.

He started to unbutton his shirt as he realized she was not going to take the initiative. He had to be the one to start the foreplay, she was giving him his time.

He could have said no and she would have not

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue forced him to have sex but that would have perhaps shattered her from within. He was broken already, he did not want to break her, too.

for her desires to come forth with force.

She kissed him hungrily and started to unbutton his trousers.

Finally, he looked up at her.

She was standing in front of him, in her underwear, next to the pile of the dress she had just taken off.

She was staring at him.

He could see it in her eyes. She wanted him. She needed him to make love to her. He was going to fulfil that need of hers. He took off his shirt and got up from the couch. He walked towards her and placed his hands over her waist and kissed her gently.

That much of initiative was enough

He helped her undress him and then he picked her up in his arms and placed her on the bed and undressed her.

He took out a condom from the bedside drawer and put it on.

He noticed her watching him, watching his body’s reaction to her naked body. He knew what she was thinking. If only she knew. After some more foreplay he was inside her, trying his best to give her what she wanted. She pulled his head towards hers and kissed him on the

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time…

March 2017 Issue mouth, he responded but late. He could feel her body tense beneath him. Oh no, he thought.

He kissed her again and tried to do all the right things but he did not make eye contact. He could not.

He moved on top of her but it was becoming difficult for him, he knew he could not go on further and she moaned asking him not to stop. He continued, tried harder and he yelled with frustration.

He wanted this to be over.

He knew why he was having difficulty coming but what the hell was wrong with her? Why was she not coming?

Maybe she noticed his frustration because soon enough she pushed him to his side and rolled over herself, with him on his back she climbed on top of him. After a while he changed positions and pushed

harder, still not making eye contact. He felt her reaching climax and he came at the same time. He pulled out and got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom to get rid of the condom. And then he started to cry out loud.

--She knew he was not the same man anymore.

War had changed him.

When he had called to say that he was coming home she had been happy. When his friend had told her that they were sending him home because he was incapable of giving his 100% anymore, she had feared for his health.

When he arrived at the airport, she had been overjoyed to see him.

She had been relaxed to see that there was nothing physically wrong with him; but she had not expected it to be worse. She’d

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March 2017 Issue ran towards him and hugged him but he had not wrapped his arms around her; she had kissed him on the mouth but he had not responded. That’s when she realized he’s changed. He was messed up from within.

But, she was not going to give up on him, she made up her mind. She gave him the space he needed, she let him sleep on the couch in their bedroom because that’s how he wanted it. She often stayed awake watching him sleep. She noticed how restless he often became when he had nightmares.

She wanted to hold him, wrap her arms around him when he screamed in his sleep but she did not touch him. She watched as slowly his body relaxed again and he started to snore. She watched him for some more time after that; sometimes till morning.

In the mornings, she did not make breakfast for the two of them.

She made it only for him because she knew he would leave his breakfast unfinished and go back to bed and then she would finish the leftover. She let him sleep as much as he liked. She knew he had to get back on his feet soon, he needed to find something to do; something to keep himself busy but before that he needed to go to therapy.

She was scared to broach the topic of therapy but she had to.

One day, after dinner as he settled into the couch she went and sat on the floor next to him. She made sure not to touch him. And then she told him how much worried she was for him. She told him that she had given him all the time he had needed to recuperate but it was time, now, for him to seek professional help. He could not do

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March 2017 Issue this to himself any longer. She did not mention that he could not do this to her, she did not want him to feel guilty in any way even though she was breaking from within.

He had told her that he would think about it.

She never talked to him about it again but one morning, as he sat at the table for breakfast he told her that he was going to do it. He had made up his mind to go to therapy.

She had accompanied him to the centre on the first day. She did not want him to feel alone in this; she wanted him to know that she was with him but he had mistaken her company as her doubt about his commitment. She had tried to explain that it was not so, she wanted him to feel loved and cared for.

He had then apologised to her.

Next day onwards she let him go alone. She

noticed some positive changes after the therapy. He shifted back to bed. They did not share the same duvet, though. They did not put their arms around each other.

Once, during her sleep, she had placed her hand over his chest by mistake and he had woken up screaming. After that she started to keep a pillow between them.

It hurt her but she was ready to give him the time.

It was their anniversary. He made breakfast for her. She expected him to kiss her but he did not. She let it be. He told her he had booked a table in her favourite hotel. She wore his favourite dress for the evening. They did not take the car, she thought he wanted to avoid driving but he told her he wanted to walk back home. Why not, she wondered. It

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March 2017 Issue seemed her.

romantic

to

They took a cab to the hotel. They ordered food, he did not order much so she restricted her diet as well. He excused himself and went to the washroom and she looked around at the other couples.

Reminiscing about the time when they looked like one of those couples, who, you could tell from their body language, were madly in love with each other. The couple she was looking at, kissed and she quickly turned her gaze away from them.

For two reasons – one, she did not want to encroach upon their privacy and two, she did not want her expectations about the night to rise only to be let down later.

She missed him, she missed his touch, she missed kissing him, she missed making love to him but she could not say.

They stepped out of the hotel after dinner and she shivered because of the cold. He put his coat around her shoulders. That felt intimate. They walked. She wanted him to hold her hand but he kept walking straight, his hands in his pockets.

She wanted to walk some more with him but she could not take the cold. She told him so.

They got into a cab and returned home.

As they stepped into the apartment, she could feel her body starting to react in anticipation of what might come next. She took off her dress and let it fall to the floor. She stepped out of it and stood in her underwear, watching him he sat on the couch looking at the floor.

He had definitely seen the dress fall off on the floor. She wanted to rip off his clothes and make love to him

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March 2017 Issue on the couch but she stood motionless where she was.

Finally, he looked at her and took off his shirt.

He walked towards her and placing his hands on her waist, he kissed her. That was enough for her desires to reach the peak. She undressed him and then he took her to bed and undressed her. He took out a condom from the bed-side drawer and she watched him.

He was starting to have an erection and her eyes filled with tears knowing that she could still do that to him. She had been worried. He had not touched her, had not felt the desire to make love to her, she had assumed that he was not capable of it anymore.

He did not spend too much time on the foreplay; while it should have made her

happy that he wanted her desperately, she felt disappointed – it seemed as if he wanted to get over with it. He was inside her already, even before she was completely ready for him. She pulled him closer and kissed him on the mouth, it took a while for him to respond.

She tensed beneath him. He did not want her, she thought but he proved her wrong.

He kissed her again and fondled her. He did the right things and she was ready.

She felt him getting frustrated because he could not perform properly, even though her body wanted him she found it difficult to come for him; she could sense he was getting tired. She straddled him and let him rest for a while and when he was back in position she felt her body starting to reach the peak and finally she came, so

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March 2017 Issue did he! He pulled out and rushed to the washroom and it felt as if someone had ripped her heart out of her chest.

She curled into foetal position and started to cry. She’d never cried during or after sex, ever. She had always felt loved until today. After love-making, he never pulled out in haste.

He always kissed her

and rested his head on her chest while still staying inside her.

And then, they climbed out of bed together and went for shower.

She heard him crying out loud in the bathroom and she jumped out of bed

immediately; forgetting her own hurt. He was hurting as well, perhaps more than she was hurting.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped in. He was standing under the shower and crying.

She joined him in the shower and asked him what was wrong. He looked at her, his eyes were red because of crying. He stepped back and sat on the rim of the bathtub.

She watched him, still standing under the shower. He did not make eye contact. That’s how he had been the whole time – avoiding eye contact.

Am I not desirable anymore? She asked him stepping out of the shower and sitting on her knees, near him and he looked at her. That's not what this is about, he told

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March 2017 Issue her.

What's wrong then? she asked him and so – he told her.

She listened to what he had to say and then she held his head in her hands as he started sobbing.

--He couldn’t take it any longer.

When she joined him in the shower and asked her what was wrong; he knew he had to tell her. She deserved an answer. She deserved more than he could offer. He should have told her earlier; should have not dragged their relationship to this stage. When he saw the concern in her eyes he felt very guilty for what he had been hiding from her. Yes, the war had changed him but there was something specific that had brought about the change in him.

An incident, which he was not comfortable sharing

with anyone not even during the therapy.

She had been understanding for so long, but he would not blame her if finally, she lost her cool and cursed him or even hurt him physically.

He knew he had hurt her today; hurt that was perhaps beyond repair. He had tried his best to fulfil her needs, but in the end, he could not continue the act.

After love-making, he never pulled out in haste.

He always kissed her and rested his head on her chest while still staying inside her. And then, they climbed out of bed together and went for shower.

But, the vision he had after the release made it impossible to stay there any longer. He decided he should tell her why he could not stay, he had to tell her what had changed

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March 2017 Issue inside of him. So, he told her.

--The last thing he remembered before closing his eyes was her face staring down at him with concern.

He had been badly hurt. He had staggered away from the war zone, holding himself together as long as he could and then he had collapsed on the ground as he had walked near a village.

She had come rushing to him, dropping her bucket of water on the ground. She had lifted his head and rested it on her lap and had called out for help, but people were too busy to notice.

She managed to drag him to her house and once inside, he fell on her, bringing her down on the floor along with him. That was the last thing he remembered. He became unconscious.

He did not know how much time had passed, how many days had passed; he opened his eyes in intervals while recovering and whenever he did, he found her sitting beside him.

He remembered being fed by her. He remembered being cleaned by her.

The wounds still hurt but he knew they were healing.

She took care of him, provided food and shelter when he needed it. She nursed him back to health and one freezing night, when he shivered with cold, she offered him warmth of her body. As they lay naked under a blanket, holding each other close since there was no more wood to keep the fire burning; he felt safe.

So many days after being at war, he felt safe. He believed no one could harm him as long as he stayed in her embrace. With that thought in his mind, he fell asleep.

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March 2017 Issue The next morning, when he opened his eyes she was not there in the house. He got up from the bed and looked around; he tried to open the door of the cottage but she had locked it from outside. He walked back to bed and drank water from the mug kept on a stool near the bed.

The door opened from the outside and she stepped in. Her hair and clothes covered with snow. She had brought wood for the fireplace. He offered to help. She handed him half of the wood and closed the door behind her.

‘Have you heard anything about the war?’ he asked her. She nodded.

She told him that she had heard rumours that the war was over; at least the one that was going on near her village.

“I should go” he told her and she nodded.

“I understand and I won’t stop you.” She said and he realized he wanted her to stop him.

He wanted nothing more than spending time with her. He did not want to go back to the madness.

Even if the war at this place was over it did not mean it was not being fought elsewhere. And, going back meant he would have to be a part of it once again. Perhaps, his team thought he was dead. He wanted it to be that way, at least for a while.

With her in his arms, her warm body against his; he had felt alive and safe. He wanted more moments like these to cherish as he faced death once again.

He needed physical contact to stay sane.

He rushed towards her and kissed her on the mouth. And before he knew, he was pulling

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March 2017 Issue at the laces of her dress, trying to undress her. He took off the worn-out trousers he had been wearing and took her then and there, on the floor. His physical need, his hunger evident in his thrusts. It hurt her, he could see but he could not stop. She offered herself to him, allowing him to kiss her whenever he wanted, moving beneath him whenever he wanted and as he came into her and collapsed on top of her, she caressed him.

She helped him get dressed and got dressed herself. She cleaned the blood on the floor and he realized he had just taken away her virginity. This was definitely not the way she must have expected to lose her virginity. She placed the wood in the fireplace and gave him soup and bread to eat. He could not look

at her. She sat next to him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him and he apologised and cried.

He asked her about her family and she told him her mother was dead and her father was out of the village for work. She did not have any siblings. He stayed over at her place for a few more days. They made love again, gentle this time. He wrapped his arms around her after sex and did not let her out of the embrace even when she said she had to do the chores.

They slept in each other’s arms.

One morning, when she returned from outside she told him the news she had heard. The war had started again, closer this time.

There were rumours that they were losing and the enemy was getting closer to the village. There were rumours that there

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March 2017 Issue were attack on the civilians on the outskirts. People of the village were scared and some of them were already running away. She looked scared. He told her not to worry. He told her he would protect her if need be.

Protect her with what?

He thought a while later. He had lost his gun. He had nothing to fight with. He did not let it show on his face. He picked up the axe and told her that he would kill anyone and everyone who tried to harm her. She rushed into his arms and cried. He dropped the axe to the ground and wrapped his arms around her.

One night, as they lay naked in each other’s arms after making love; they heard chaos outside the door.

People were screaming and houses were on fire. They got dressed hurriedly and he opened the door to

watch what was happening. He saw men being slaughtered like pigs, children were being killed as well.

Women were raped and killed, including small girls. He told her that they had to leave. He picked up the axe and held her hand and rushed out of the cottage and out of the village, into the woods. They thought they were safe but they were attacked.

The attack was too sudden and he did not get time to react. The axe was gone within minutes and he could not fight. A couple of soldiers beat him up.

He fell to the ground and watched as 7-8 soldiers held her down and tore off her clothes. He watched as one by one all the soldiers raped her and then brutally murdered her. They chopped her body parts and threw them in different directions and her

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March 2017 Issue head landed where he was, frozen to the ground with fear. He looked into her eyes and gave out a heartwrenching scream. He screamed until it hurt his throat and the soldiers laughed.

One of them walked towards him and tore off his clothes and left him naked, to die.

But, as fate would have it, he did not die. He lived.

He dragged himself to one of the intact houses and borrowed clothes.

He found his way to the military camp and fell unconscious. When he came to, he was in the medical tent.

His wounds were bandaged but there was one wound that could never be bandaged, one wound that would never heal. He tried to kill himself once, but he was saved yet again. He was cursed to live. Her eyes haunted him every night and he screamed in pain. She had taken

care of him, he should have taken care of her but he did nothing as she was gang raped and brutally killed.

He could not hold the gun in his hands, he was not capable of anything, anymore. He jumped with fear even when he heard a glass drop to the ground. He was broken and so, they sent him back home.

Writer’s Ezine – Writing one word at a time‌

March 2017 Issue About Arti Honrao: Author of fiction books titled 'My Life story' and 'Is This Love & Autumn - The Last Leaf' and novel 'Resemblance - The Journey of a Doppelganger' Arti enjoys writing short stories on Relationships.

She has attempted writing different form poems but most enjoy writing Prose poems where she gets to express without the limitations of words or rhyming. Most of her writings depict human feelings and emotions, which she tries to bring onto the page and into the minds of the reader.

She believes that essence of writing lies in not only entertaining the reader, but speaking to them through words.

She can be reached at contact@artihonrao.n et

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March 2017 Issue Writer’s Ezine no longer accepts submissions. However, the magazine remains active for the readers to visit, re-visit and dive into the archives.

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