Let’s talk about oppression and subjugation

Let’s talk about suffering and grief

The curtailment of her basic human rights

Think of a woman who not only sustains abuse

But accepts, supports and stands up for it

A mere embodiment of the most powerful person —

her oppressor, her persecutor, the maltreater

Tainted with the same dark motives,

Ominous and foreboding, gloom and doom

Thrusting them back to their burrows

How far will she go to bring those down?

Who are struggling,

Who refused to give in,

who refused to be lessened and minimized


Will she cramp their style?

Her only qualification?

She could be worse

Let us talk about her persecution

Her emancipation

Her degradation

my tryst with evil

“Anyone who stands by the abuser is either extremely envious narcissist, someone who secretly begrudges you, covets to see you fail or have abused you before.”

I did get Vasudha’s drift and agreed with her but it was flipping cold along the pavement and I wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

I ran my eyes around and paced up to the rickshaw wallah behind the clump of locals. I bought some values and some choice words for my everyday use. My mother-in-law was about to come and I had to fix my car AC. However, she wasn’t as ripe and mature as Vasudha.

On the left side sat a Call girl stall and then a Government stall. Government stall didn’t sell the right values or words and didn’t offer packets of sweets I had based my behaviour, my values upon. I asked rickshaw wallah, who was breathing down my neck, if he sells honesty.

I sprinted home to see if my daughter and other ‘good for nothings’ that lived inside my one BHK house are speaking perfectly. But what I saw inside blew my top. Just no good bums! None of these ******s behaved like the perfect adult person. Yes, I am an adult but I am not as adult as these. However, the things I have done, the way I have lived, the kind of deceitful honesty I have put forth towards the world is incomparable. Standard below perfect hasn’t ever been acceptable in my world. I am infallible, I can’t accept I am less than perfect. Whatever I do, whichever way I abuse must be accepted and honoured. I, honestly, took out some values from my pocket and lay it on the table snd glowered at my daughter. She didn’t seem to be a perfect adult, as usual.

I threw a hissy fit and unleashed a hail of abuse as usual to my highest pitch, making disparaging remarks. I devoted my efforts to look around and hoped for applause and someone to pay obeisance to me.

Yesterday, an old person told me that children don’t blossom or succeed without appreciation and admiration. They learn from watching elders. I agreed to him. I turned to the place where we used to meet. Evil was sitting there.

He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared, almost as if he tried, like a hunting hound, to take my scent.

[400 words]

50 Word Thursday #98

Amazing Lemon Hacks — Mashuk Forever

A number of useful lemon hacks are more or less known to most of us. We may even try some of these hacks in our daily lives. I just thought that you might be able to use some more lemon hacks to achieve some amazing feats and also to impress others around you. The uses are endless such as making you healthier, more beautiful, cleaner, and a better cook (obviously), and so much more.

Here are some amazing lemon hacks for you to try:

It’s a very useful blog with numerous handy tips and tricks.

To read more please visit Mashuk Forever

same words different people

At the year-end with many thought-provoking and humorous posts, I felt inspired to pen this oneliner. Thank you so much Alex Markowich for the story. When I stumbled upon this post I instantly burst into laughter. That’s because we (using for ‘only I‘. So what? Everyone stretches the truth once in a while!) used to put such posts. Here is my one-line story:

After toiling day and night to have the world make sense when he was unable to help a few needy and deprived he said “ life is unfair” and when his brother saw him in pain he said “life is unfair”.

Wishing you Happy Christmas. Mirth and gaiety is all there. I hope Santa blesses you with all what you wished for. I hope your house is piled up with gifts, I hope your souls mate and your cakes are hot. Thank you so much.

soulmate dream ritual

I came across an interesting ritual to find out your soulmate. As it seems it will come handy to save your dilemmas. Here we go:

Ingredients: 3 almonds, 3 raisins, milk and honey.

Ritual: Put the almond and resins under your pillow. Before hitting the sack, drink a cup of warm milk with a teaspoon of honey then go to bed. If you wonder whether the person is your soulmate (the one), it will come to you in your dream. So, before you fall asleep keep that person in your mind and in the morning you will know if he is your soul mate, from your dream.


Please, do try and share your experience in the comment box. Thanks for reading. 🙂

Photo courtesy: Pinterest

to a salubrious culmination

Musty corners of the house,

worsted by ennui and despair

that seep through mossy fissured walls

seized by bounties of filigree of climbers,

Spilling across mouldy antiquated windows


Hoisting onto the back of sagacious winters

Donned in milky fur rob

Howls amok like a man

Making the piercing chill do its worst

Brings me on my knees


At the receiving end in a drastic draught

The house is ransacked for the subtle oblique cues

But for the life of me, I cannot fathom

The moon

Obscured by a pall of shadowy clouds


In the protective custody of pills

Dozing eyes heavy with dreams

Of resplendent dawn, bursting through the azure hills

Of malheur,

Cantillate firey orange verse of mirth and gaiety.


Keeping my weary bones together,

I conjure up

Tomorrow will pluck me away

From life’s culpability

to a safe and salubrious culmination.

space for breathing in such fragile world

Somewhere it reads that it doesn’t matter what someone else has done, how someone else has lived until you succeed at doing and living that. Another person writes that everyone must have the freedom to be limited by his own mind as you have. The even-handedness of the notion of freedom is quite relatable. It’s like writing as it invariably births you, the one who can achieve independence from any kind of mental slavery. You’re your sage, your whore, your God and Goddess, your husband, your wife, your father and mother. You might get the privilege to get to know those who have risen long ago from any spurious moral superiority, who have seen humanity shrieking and gashing.

To cite an example, we don’t know if Bhondita has encountered domestic violence, whether her husband beat her or there is something more but you find her running a crusade against her mother-in-law behind her back. But you know she needed to be heard and understood. Yet, contrary to your estimation, it may not be the case. In another example, once I heard the lachrymose pleading of a teenage girl and I conveyed it to her mother. That was my only crime, though opinions may vary. That doesn’t imply that I didn’t nurse the spiteful attitudes towards paedophiles. I always did. In fact, I believed that if as the sister of a paedophile, I can go this far to support such a terrible crime, such life is a burden, a curse to the humanity. I could have shown some grace. However, when you are crushed underneath the heavy baggage of a multitude of complexes, whether it is your looks or anything else, it gets difficult to attain such feat. You can stick your head into anything and try to milk as much as you can. And while it may surprise many, in such atmosphere you may resolve to make a call, to show how potty mouth you are. What else can we do bar laughing after coming to term with your or your video’s, your thought level?

So many girls or even women in their thirties, forties relish catcalling just like budding breasts of teenage girls like fondling.

There are truths we often ignore like a paedophile can easily tear the fall of a vagrant bird(s). We understand that the support for abuse or the support for opinion are two completely different things. We understand that in this kind of environment such practices are not only bearable but common, they are exercised frequently and received in glowing terms. It flies in the face of empathy, compassion and humanity but I watch it now and again. Maybe, that’s how you pave the path for mediocrity. As it turns out, excellence is not hegemony, at least for me.

There are many instances when an abused sister is either doubted for he ability to iron her clothes and hauled over the coals or suchlike and later she is littered with more crass personification.

There are several things or people we grow apart and it hardly matters who is marrying to which idea or values. You just celebrate what you do rather than awaiting the legions of admirers and it all takes place inside your head. You do whatever it takes, what needs to be done and love the space around you. If it still stifles, we must tweak it to our own wellness.

Lockdown Bites — UnknownShri’s Fiction

Captivating. Sensuality blending beautifully with the current scenario of pandemic.

A sexually-liberated women is having a gala time when her partner says something that horrifies her. She had chosen to voluntarily lock her down with him but easily manages to return to her place. A conversation with her roommate calms her down.

Her eyelids shot open. “Oh my God! You are hitting my stomach!”

She tightly shut her eyelids and dug her fingernails deeper into his biceps. “Yes! Yes! Ah… Yes!” Every muscle in her body tightened. “Oh God! Yes! Harder!” Her entire focus was on the hard, hot rod going in and out of her juicing pleasure centre. Something exploded down there. Every muscle in her body relaxed simultaneously. Her toes curled. She let go of the tight clutch of his arms. A tingle in her spine sent shivers all across her body. She exhaled as eyes slowly opened.

To read full story please go to

Lockdown Bites — UnknownShri’s Fiction