How many women are around there for who plough through every day with broken hearts? For whom marriage has lost it’s meaning. Many I’d say. But not Ruhi Sharma:)
Like it? Want to read more about what my gutsy heroine did? How did she turn her fortunes around?
Then you better buy a copy of Inconvenient Relations and it’s sequel Now and Forever. Available now on Amazon and Kindle. Links below đ
It’s there
If you could only see
You will find it
Feel it
It’s there
Like the strings of a piano
It floats in the air
Invisible
Like the thoughts in your head
Tired
Like the wrinkles on your skin
It’s there
There there
Hi friends!
I’m very excited to share with you an excellent review for my new book ‘Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree’ from US review:–
“I am the mistress of my own destiny.”
The authorâs unique work takes its audience on a voyage. The journey begins in the banyan treeâs shade, where âGods recline and meditateâ beneath the tree that, in every Indian village, is the center of activity. Then one wanders into loneliness, that ever-present friend who asks, âWhere would you be without me?â From there, the reader encounters daughters and strangers, wars and tyrants, until one finds the lone koi who declares defiantly, âI am the mistress of my own destiny.â As the journey ends, one experiences romances and losses, rants and insights, strong women who continue finding their voices and places in their relationships, the conquering of everyday mundanity, the depiction of everyday items, and love that is found in even the smallest actions.
This book propels readers into the philosophical, the social, and the cultural by fusing poetry, art, and short fiction narratives that depict the everyday lives and existence of characters, animals, figures, and objects. In short verses that jar readers to examine their own existences and beliefs, the poems in this book serve as quiet meditations that ease and distract readers from the hectic, workaholic lives so many live. The short fiction narratives interspersed throughout the collection cleanse the palate by offering a small serving of humanity, promise, and hope. The sketch-like artwork incorporated throughout makes one contemplate the ties between art, literature, and life without superimposing an interpretation on the piece accompanying the art. Thus, this unconventional yet intriguing work becomes a meditational reading. Fans of poets like Nefy will truly appreciate this book.
RECOMMENDED by the US Review of Books
All the reason for you to get a copy. Available as both Ebook and Paperback!
It took some time for Ahaan and Mili to get out of the forest. The dense canopy, which almost completely filtered out the light, impeded their progress considerably, causing Mili to stumble several times. Finally at Ahaanâs insistence she accepted his arm and was nearly carried the rest of the way.
âThanks.â Mili murmured detaching herself, once back on the road.
âMy pleasure. We should do this more often.â he replied, grinning when he saw her cheeks blaze with color.
They strolled back, savoring this new found companionship–the lovely formative phase of a brand new relationship which was supposed to last a lifetime. Mili almost wanted to skip with delight. She curbed the instinct with difficulty. It wonât do for me to appear undignified and childish in front of Ahaan. Though he has probably formed that impression already, she thought, unhappily recalling the events from earlier that afternoon.
On the other hand, Ahaan was pursuing a slightly different theme. Good God! She is proving to be quite a handful; a very beautiful one though. Iâll have to keep my wits around all the time in order to survive. Â Still, I bet Iâm going to enjoy every single moment!
A surreptitious glance found her aiming a vehement kick at a pebble. His hands itched to reach out and pull her into his arms. He stuck them into his pockets instead. Damn this life!
âAhaan…!â
Startled, he looked up. The object of his preoccupation was beaming at him.
âGuess where we are…â
His vision followed her outstretched arm. Of their own accord their feet had taken them down a familiar path, one which led to their old Alma Mater.
The wait is over! My new book Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree–Poems, Rants and Short Stories is Available Now in paperback and eBook.
Synopsis: Life is not about achieving perfection, it’s about reconciling with your imperfections.
Poems are fragments of life. Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree is a unique poetry collection for women, there are blissful moments; deep, invisible wounds; cries for help; declarations of defiance and philosophical observations. The poems and prose pieces compiling the collection are fragments of life elucidating the different phases of the human condition. This book will leave readers wanting for more and have a deep impact on women of all ages.
You will certainly enjoy this book as I’m speak here from the heart. Beautifully illustrated you will find in this book many of life’s truths, in the form of poems and stories. Here I share a piece of me and I’m sure you’ll find in it a piece of you.
Order your copies here!–
The color of my DNA is brown. Iâm conditioned to despise it and assign labels to it– including but not limited to- low status, bad character, poor hygiene and scant education if any. And this is how it all began.
My mother is fair complexioned while Iâm not. âTumhari ladki kaali haiâ or âyour girl is black or darkâ was a common remark I came across which my mother rushed to correct; âno, her color is gehua’Â i.e ‘wheatishâ as if to provide me solace. It didn’t. Not really. Because Iâd been labelled and it was drilled into me from as long as I can remember. Over and over. not necessarily in an accusatory rather in a matter of fact manner. Yes, my color is dark, meaning I’m not fair, or pretty or beautiful etc. And everyone knows how important it is for a girl to be âprettyâ in our society. I donât think the intention was to put me down as many members of this ‘color’ club were very dear to me including my own mother. But it had its effect. I began to believe I was lacking. That I was inferior to my fair counterparts. I used to compare myself with others all the time. Often, Iâd align the back of my arm with my motherâs hoping to see a change. I did try a couple of creams and soaps but gave up soon enough as they had no effect.
Fortunately, this âanomalyâ of mine remained a mere irritant. I wanted to make something out of myself. I was good in both academics and extracurricular activities and generally I got my way. So, even though I was insecure about my looks I didnât let it hinder my progress. I realized very soon that color has nothing to do with beauty or character or competence. Working as a physician in the west I also discovered how color segregates people and turns them against each other and negates all the progress that humankind has made. Today I feel enriched interacting with people from different backgrounds and cultures and I realize how shallow and abhorrent it is to judge someone based simply on their skin color.
Whenever there is decay of righteousness, O Bharata,Â
And there is exaltation of unrighteousness, then I Myself come forth ;
For the protection of the good, for the destruction of evil-doers,
For the sake of firmly establishing righteousness,
I am born from age to age.
Parthasarathy
This is the first day of the rest of our lives and I want to spend it with you. We need to begin nurturing our relationship. There is absolutely no time to lose.
Mili smiled as she read and reread  the note that Ahaan had handed her last night, OMG! He is so eager. Is he like this all the time, I wonder.
It is amazing that just a few days ago, he didnât even feature in my thoughts and now… he is the only one! ⊠Good Lord Mili! Hadh hai yaar (This is the limit.)
She burst into a fit of giggles, and pulled the thick embroidered quilt over her head. Thank heavens Ahaan isnât here, or he wouldnât hesitate to change his mind!
Then she sat up straight frowning. Really? Would he change his mind? And if so, would that bother me? Â She fell back flat on the bed. Yes, it would…it would bother me quite a bit.
She grabbed a pillow and curled herself around it, âdamn you Ahaan! Who asked you to come into my life and mess it all up when I was doing just fine by myself? Who asked you to be so charming and smart and cool? Who asked you to drop down from the sky like the perfect Godsend son in law?…Who..?â
Her rant was interrupted by a knock on the door.
âGuess what came by special delivery bright and early today?â Kiran was standing at the door holding a bunch of fresh and colorful wild flowers. âIâm really starting to like Ahaanâs style of wooing!â She said seeing her daughterâs face light up instantly.
âOf course you would! You would like him even if he turned out to be Osama Bin Ladenâs nephew!â
âWhat are you muttering about?â
âTell me mama. Are you going to miss me or not?â
âOf course I am, Mili. We both are!â
âThen Iâm not getting married and thatâs that!â Mili said plummeting face down on the bed.
Kiran pulled her up and wiped her tear stricken face with the edge of her palloo, âMy darling. Enough with all this fuss! I know exactly what is going on in that little head of yours and it bears no resemblance at all to what you say.â She smiled… âNow get ready quickly. Ahaan is waiting impatiently for you!â
âHe is here?!â Mili exclaimed as her heart did a cartwheel in her chest.
âYes he is!â Kiran laughed, âWho else do you think brought the flowers?â Placing a gentle kiss on her daughterâs soft cheek, she said. âmy silly little Mili…â then abruptly turned and hurried away.
`
Mili stood at the entrance of the dining room, inhaling the aroma of hot spicy sambhar (a type of South Indian lentil soup) and fresh filter coffee and silently observed what was going on inside. It was a scene one may find in any normal household. Everybody was there, including both her parents, Ramu kaka and of course Ahaan and they were all doting on him.
She saw Ramu kaka blush with pleasure when Ahaan praised him and said that he wished he could kidnap him and take him to Delhi, when her father and mother screamed in unison, âNo way!â and they all burst into merry laughter.
Mili was glad to see the smiles of happiness and contentment on her parents faces. At least I am able to give them something in return for what they have done for me.
And to say the truth, she couldn’t find anything to complain about either.  Ahaan seemed to value and respect her feelings and that meant for a lot.
âMili!… her father said noticing her, âBeta, Look whoâs here!â
Ahaan swung around in his chair…
âYes, I know. Hi Ahaan.â She smiled, drawing herself to her full height of 5â7â. She knew she looked good in a simple flared sunshine yellow cotton kurta (long shirt), crushed scarf of forest green and tight leggings to match.
âUh huh⊠Hi..Mili..â
Gosh Ahaan! Close your mouth. You look like a startled frog!
âCareful son!â Jai exclaimed with concern when he saw his future son in law dissolve into a violent coughing spell.
Working hard to suppress a giggle, she ran to his side. âPaani?â she asked with a straight face.
Poems are fragments of life.
In this collection, there are blissful moments; deep, invisible wounds; cries for help; declarations of defiance and philosophical observations. These poems are fragments of life elucidating the different phases of the human condition.
My book is now available for Pre-order. Reserve your copy here!
Once published it’ll be available on all platforms đ
âAt last. The Dulhan (bride) is here.â
Dulhan.. Mili pursed her lips and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, gingerly making her way into the drawing hall of their bungalow, which was now filled to the brim with guests. If it hadnât been for her motherâs firm grip on her arm, sheâd have swung about and made a break for it; so desperate was her urge to flee.
For the past half an hour or so, she had schooled her mind into a state of detached indifference, while Kiran dolled her up. Closing her eyes, as she had so many times in the past, she had let her mind drift to a  faraway place , to help alleviate the jitters somewhat.
But they were back now with a vengeance. She was acutely aware of everyoneâs eyes upon her, including Ahaan’s, as though they were seeing her for the first time. And why wouldnât they be—her mother had insisted on dressing her up as a bride. âWhen will I get another chance?â
Mili was draped in an outfit she had bought for her sisterâs wedding. She had forgone wearing it at the time on the insistence of one of her auntâs, who had warned that itâd make her outshine the bride, which would have been taboo.
The dress was a light maroon lehenga with a silver choli heavily embroidered with zari and studded with tiny mirrors. The jewelry was her motherâs own; ornate yet restrained, her luxurious midnight hair fell naturally lose around her shoulders, and it was all brought together by a touch of kohl to enhance her doe shaped eyes and a dash of maroon lipstick; she being blessed by a flawless complexion.
âMrs. Sharma, your bahu (Daughter in law) is a Chand ka tukda (as beautiful as the moon)!â Someone exclaimed aloud.
âNo, not the moon; the Sun!â
âWhen my bahu enters the room, everything fades into the background. Her beauty dazzles. So one could go blind if he stares too long.â Miliâs mother in law, in a white and black sari (white seemed to be her color of choice) said, with a bright smile while drawing her to sit beside her son. Â âAnd these words are not mine, they are my Ahaanâs. You have made a poet out of him my dear.â
Mili raised her eyes to glare accusingly at her fiance and promptly turned crimson. He was staring transfixed at her, while looking outrageously handsome in a dark suit and tie. With a wry shrug of his shoulders, he admitted his guilt, though there wasnât even a whiff of contrition in his manner. Rather he seemed to be relishing her state of inordinate distress.
âIf stating the simple truth makes you color so prettily, then I will have to make a habit of it.â
Flustered and thrilled at the same time she looked away and tried instead to focus on her future mother in law, though it proved to be far from an easy task. But it seemed important because she was going to play a big role in Miliâs future, almost as big as Ahaan and it made her nervous.
She wondered what kind of person Mrs. Sharma was—stern or lenient, compassionate or spiteful. By the looks of her she seemed quite pleasant and it was obvious that her world revolved around her only son.
âOpen your mouth, my dear!â
Mili obeyed and almost choked on the date that was placed in her mouth. Her eyes filled up with moisture, but she composed herself and solemnly accepted the gifts which were piled into her lap.
But the worst part of the ritual was when she was directed to feed her fiance laddoo (a type of sweet). Still quite rattled at him, she reached up blindly, and missed the target by a mile. While everyone present burst into amused laughter, he caught her wrist and guided it to its destination.
âPerhaps you should feed me dinner. It might be fun.â
Not on your life, Ahaan! Miliâs eyes flashed fierily.
We shall see about that, Mili. His retorted with the utmost calm.
This visual argument was interrupted when their parents urged them to offer prayers together at the household shrine and then seek the blessings of the elders, by touching their feet.
âMili…I…â
âDinner is served!â Her father announced gaily and led the party into the yard. She marched after him paying no heed to her fiance, knowing fully well that it made her look like a willful child. Perhaps she did so because it reminded her of the past; when sheâd almost always exercised the upper hand or simply because she enjoyed irking Ahaan. Nevertheless, she didnât pause to figure out.