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She turned round and round in front of the mirror, admiring the sequin dress that hugged her fragile frame,
she ignored him calling out to her, repeatedly saying her name.
she instead looked at the nightstand and smiled at the pendant he bought her last night,
he enjoyed his women sparkling, she mused, sparkling and bright.
she opened her wardrobe, and counted. 61, 61 different dresses for each time,
61 for the 3 months that they had been married. 61 times, she thought and chuckled.
From the corner of her eye, she spied his reflection, he called out to her again,
with a naughty smile, she looked away, he called out again, this time louder, but in vain.
she lightly touched the bruises from last night, the bruises and the bump on her head,
she recalled, “after a while, it stops hurting”, he had said.
every morning he would only recall it as light tapping, and accuse her of being too delicate,
she lightly touched her swollen lower lip, where her teeth dug, to keep herself from screaming, while she waited for him to be satiated.
“Scream, and I will really give you something to scream about”
she thought, shaking her head, must do that to keep the screams from going out.
she then turned her head to the cake, she counted, only 10 candles remained of the initial 15,
her name smudged in the pink and green cream,
she kept from smiling, her lips hurt. this time she looked right at him,
pudgy mush tub of lard of a man, she thought to herself. she tilted her head at an angle and gave him her innocent doll like look,
“are we almost done here?” a voice called from inside the house,
she twirled around in her pretty skirt with a flourish,
“I almost feel bad in doing this, the dresses he bought me are all so pretty!”
“He took the longest, and some of the damage he’s done may put us out of business for months”, came the reply. “Let’s please wrap up and get out?”
“Alright” she said and skipped over to his naked body on the floor, “I know you loved Lolita, your image preceded you, you were almost too easy.”
“Gia, please”, he called out again, “sh sh sh” she said, slowly shaking her head, and lightly touched his lips with her finger, ” after a while, it really will stop hurting” she said, and severed his head in a clean stroke.
“you done with the loot?” she called out to her sister. “yes.”

She looked down at Mr. Patel, and said, “We got a lot more than we had planned for, this time.”



There is comfort and love, kindness that you cannot believe,
altruism of another realm, and warmth too.. only if you are ready to receive.
dear love just hold on, for your fears are only a mirage,
my vision for us is beyond large.
for with you, forever is too short
that is why my love, i feel utterly distraught
for every second that you are mine, is like a lifetime, but a lifetime is too less
for when i hold you near me, i only wish that you could see,
see through my eyes and it would all be so clear
your beauty reflected in my tear.
your rhythm reflected in my voice,
us getting lost in that lovely white noise.
it is surreal to be swayed by the sound of someone’s name,
how someone’s radiance, can put candles to shame,
how someone’s touch can make ripples on the skin,
how someone’s scent can make the head swim.
darling a lifetime is not enough but i will do my best,
to remind you everyday of how fortunate is my fate,
to have found the perfect mate.



So I was travelling from Delhi to Mumbai via the IndiGo airlines. And as is the ritual, sure enough, the air hostess stood in front of me, doing the usual dance. It was clear from the way that she didn’t bother to stay in tandem with the recorded announcement that she didn’t Really think that the aircraft was going to crash. It would be too easy to call her dumb and assume that that’s the reason she joined this profession, no wait that would be judgemental… easy would be to say that she is an optimist. Everyone loves an optimist, don’t they? Well that would surely explain the number of friends I have.
The way this female refused to keep in sync with what the recorded voice was saying somehow Really bugged me. Now again it would be really easy to just call me a hyper- critical bitch, easy and a cliche.

For a little background, I worked at an MNC for 2 years right after my graduation. I live away from my parents, who live in a different country. Their biggest complain about me was that I failed to balance my work life with my personal life. Well, I would explain to them, that is because I enjoy being passionate about what I do, and the trying to get better at it constantly would add pressure because those around me just did not see the point in even “trying”. Now I am not saying that I was great at my job; in my view, I was fairly average. But I was passionate about it, alright I used to try to be and when I realised that I couldn’t anymore, I quit. My question is:  

Imperfection: Is it a temporary situation or a permanent condition?

My parents, for their love for me, used to hate to see me work so hard as in their eyes, finances should not have been an issue for me at all. However, this was about more than just money, I am not saying that money did not have a substantial role to play. It did. But this was about the WAY that I lived my life.

The biggest sound of glass crashing against hard concrete reverberated in my ears the day that I realised that living passionately is not a norm. Growing up, I don’t know why, maybe it was the media or my own “optimism” but I was sure that one day, I was going to find that special something that I am meant to be doing, and rock that world completely. But then, and this news was broken to me by my own father, that you are just supposed to do the bare minimum.
So a little more background: I am not particularly a believer in the institution of marriage and the idea of having a family. Which means I have a long life ahead of me with a lot of me time. Which means that I am going to be living a long, alone, dispassionate, half-hearted life, forever.

All hell broke loose. I went into severe depression and it affected every relationship of mine, around me.

Slowly, as I could not come to terms with this reality, I had to quit my job and in the garb of preparing for an mba, take some time off.

So. Imperfection. Speaking on a grand, cosmic scale, there is scope for absolutely None. The room for imperfection keeps widening the closer we get to home. And by home, I mean ourselves. It is a little more at a global level, more at a national level, more so at a state level, so on and so forth. My strive to “get it right” is looked upon as being a type-A personality, crazy and at times, obsessive.

Let us say that the aircraft Does drown, and the passenger who tried hard to understand this lady’s instructions in row 30, but couldn’t because she was doing a shoddy job of it, ends up drowning and dying; Whom is it on? Is it on the man who was befooled by this woman’s lack of precision in giving directions into believing, as she most probably does, that the aircraft won’t Really drown or is it on him for not calling out to her and telling her that she was doing a shitty job of what she was doing?

On another note, we know and understand the existence of imperfection in our world. Human error, as we always like to term it and don’t fail to account for it. How far is it OK to provide for the public’s imperfections? Providing a brail menu for the blind in a restaurant would normally be considered as noble but, providing for sick mind’s perversion with child pornorgraphy, is intolerable. They are both, after all, diseases. One physical and the other mental.

But then again all this could be my erroneous rambling, but I know I can get away with it, in this dimension at least.