Trials and Tribulations by Fire

Sita's Curse: A Trailer on YouTube When I read the first page, I was taken aback. This certainly was my first erotic fiction. But, I wasn't scandalized, I was just surprised. That a woman, in a patriarchal  society like ours had the guts to write about another woman who was bold enough to break free and give in to her desires and find ways to pleasure herself.      When I met Meera Patel, or Mrs. Meera Patel, wife of Mohan Patel, I imagined her exactly as Sreemoyee had described her. For me Meera was a living breathing human being, a woman with normal sexual desires and wants. I could reach out and touch Meera's soft skin. So real is Sreemoyee's writing.  As the story progressed, touching slightly upon the incestual relation between Meera and her twin brother, Karthik, I was caught up and thrown along with the upheavals Meera went through. When Meera found Karthik's body, I cried with her. I felt her pain.  The story moves ahead, Meera grows up, dreams

Meera Rao picked up her pen and started writing in her leather bound diary. Words sprang from her insides. She kept refilling her glass with the scotch that her husband kept hidden. Tears fell on the pages while she wrote. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I seldom get a chance to get so drunk, I cant type right. I am loving the feeling, as a writer, I want to capture the emotion, the moment, in words... My eyes are aching to roll over, my head just doesn't seem right, but, I can still make out my spellings and language. Wow. So, I am actually drinking to drown my sorrow. Sorrow of being not able to have a child, because I have an impotent room mate. So, people call me the infertile woman. As if it was all my fault. As if I did all the procreation. Im sure they must have all flunked in Biology. huh. Today, we had one of those big fights. He hit me many times, on my head, everywhere. He bit me to

A brilliant portrayal of a free man's journey to being a slave, for 12 long years.  When I watched the movie the first time, I thought it was a bit of a drag. Felt guilty about the thought almost immediately.  A man, Solomon Northup, a gifted fiddle player from New York, gets kidnapped and sold to slavery.  With a new name, Platt, and beaten to accept his  forced identity, Solomon continues to fight for his real name and freedom. Nobody believes when he screams that he is a free man.  Sold several times over to rich plantation owners in New Orleans, Solomon spends his time tending to his wounds and thinking up ways to escape the hell.  He impresses and befriends his first plantation 'owner' Ford and immerses himself in building a network of friends.  Then there is Patsey, another slave who is sexually abused and tortured many times over by the owner.  When a Canadian laborer named Bass (Brad Pitt) comes to the plantation to help build a gazebo, Solo

The Hunt for Kohinoor is a thriller. The deadline is 96 hours. The protagonist has to find an elusive set of documents nicknamed, the Kohinoor. The AfPak terrain, one of the most trickiest and dangerous holds the secret to averting a national disaster.   Mehrunisa Khosa, Mehr, is called to Srinagar by the RAW head Jag Mishra to find the Kohinoor: a set of documents that can change the way India and Pakistan view the Kashmir issue. Jag Mishra dangles a carrot; Mehr can be reunited with her long lost father Harry, if she finds the Kohinoor.  Harry, a legendary spy, nicknamed the Snow Leopard, is injured and is recuperating. Harry's latest assignment, to ensure the peace talk between the Indian and Pakistani premiers goes smoothly, is disrupted by a suicide bomber. The Pakistani General is killed, Harry and the Pakistani aide Aziz Mirza are injured. After the attack, Aziz goes underground and Harry ends in a hospital. The Kohinoor has to be found and the peace talk resumed. O

This is for the lady who is the core of my existence: Amma.  I have written about men, relationships, but have never dedicated a post for her.  Today is a special day for Amma. I was born. Am I being too self obsessed to think this way? Maybe I am. But, certainly Amma has kept me as a center of her universe, always. I keep thinking what kind of good deeds I would have done to get a mother like her. I can give up anything in my life but never give her up.  Ma, thank you for this day. When I came into your life was also the day when I understood unconditional love.                 

Being employed, that too usefully (I mean get a salary on time and complete some sane work) is such a hard task. For some it means getting out of bed and going over the same mundane chores as always and reach the seat, where they sit like idiots in front of the computer and stare away into eternity. Some I know use the office network effectively and get some entertainment: download movies, songs, watch reruns of serials, catch latest movies on youtube, and so much more fun than being tied to a boring excel sheet. Then there are some who use this time and free resources to get some extra cash into their kitty. These people are generally termed Freelancers. What they technically do is take on extra assignments and work their ass off to meet the demands of the inflationary economy. They can buy that extra dress, can eat out more often, and do a lot more. Now, all this ain't easy. Freelancing also means having to deal with total assholes, dimwits, and mean penny pinchers.

As far as I can remember, I seemed to have back pain. I always ended up spending money and energy to get healed. Well, I wasn't even anywhere close to getting healed. I know that I had to exercise and eat healthy food. Knowledge is there, available, but I tend to ignore the wisdom. And suffer. Each time. This time, I am smarter. I have decided to follow a motto. 'If you don't mind, it won't matter.' I keep repeating this to myself. Each time the twitch, the burning pain, the stiffness appears, I repeat this. I keep reminding myself, this will pass. I have abused my body, I am getting punished. This time, I am sure, I will resurface, stronger than ever. If I have to move on to better stuff in life, I need to have a stronger body, a healthy body. I cannot fight my battles with a fractured soul and a battered spine.  Today, I decided to return to my original state of living on raw vegetables and fruits. Returning to the natural way of living. This is the most

Just got a tall glass of juice. Carrots, apples, and ginger. Many people do not relish the taste of ginger, but I love it.  It is supposed to be a cleanser. It certainly seems like. As I took my first sip, the ginger hit my tongue, then the sweetness of apples, then the carrots. This certainly is my latest love.  

I take a deep breath and believe, life will go on Life does go on... A few bruises here and there, a few tears I shed Life still goes on... There are moments when I wonder what makes me take the pain, what  makes me the weakling I have metamorphosed into what would turn me back into a flesh and blood human being But, I get no answers, nature remains silent, Life goes on... The words flow no longer, the blog remains un-updated The novels sit and wait for the typing to resume Publishers vye for my attention, in my dreams Dreams have dried up too, long back, I know not when But, despite all this, life goes on... My toe hurts badly after last  night's attack The bandage draws attention and out pour the questions Reluctant,  hesitant, and untrue answers bubble forth Honor, they say is to be guarded But, in the midst of it all, life goes on... I know not when the last time it was when I sailed free like a bird, up above, high, with not a thing to bother me n

Man is a social animal. Such a pain in the ass it is, to smile and act nice. Phew! Finally the day ended. And with it ended the pressure to be nice, smile at the 'big-heads' (translate to Tamizh) and generally act pleasant. Today began late for me. Got up late, 'coz of the pain in the back, literally. Had no mood to dress up and strut to either the wedding or the get together. I knew meeting oldies at the wedding would be pleasant than being present at the get together. I was so right. I should probably follow my instincts. It always saves me from getting bored to death. I got a few messages from my dear friend who was going to do a Bharatnatyam performance. I was emotionally bound to go attend her performance. Well, I started from the wedding, which in all respects was more interesting, and reached the get together venue, the office. I knew I was overdressed for the event. Women had turned out in denims and 'oh check out my wardrobe' dresses. Men who norma