Aaina was the smartest 14-year old girl in school and she was pretty too. Everyone wanted to be her friend especially boys. They would wait outside the girls hostel to get a glimpse of her. They would often follow her on the streets, some of them would walk in groups behind her and call her names, some on bicycles would stop and ask her if she wanted a ride, some would compliment her, “Aaj toh mast lag rahi ho!” If she looked at a guy mistakenly, then he would assume that she likes him and go to the extent of writing love letters and then would wrap them around stones and throw at her hostel room’s window.
The girls in school did not want to be with her or around her because they felt she was attracting unnecessary attention and some envied her for her looks. She did not know whom to complain, or what to do. Aaina did not ask for any of this she was embarrassed, frightened, ashamed, and started hating the way she looked. But she did not give up, there was a fire burning inside her. She had a burning desire to fix these problems, a desire to make women feel safe when they leave their homes without having the fear of being harmed by men. She wanted to protect women and fight for the rights that they equally deserve.
When you’re up on the mighty mountains, slithering into the sleeping bag after a long day’s hike, watching the night sky with the fire logs burning on the side and not caring a damn about the world you left behind.
One day a girl named Mrin was walking down the road when suddenly she heard the clouds crack and roar. She quickly whipped out her umbrella and was surprised to hear a loud splat instead of the pitter-patter of rain drops. But what shocked her beyond belief was when she looked down and saw a puddle of colorful muck stuck to her feet. “What sorcery is this!” she exclaimed. “Did the clouds get high on buckets of paints or am I just dreaming again?”
Had no clue about this vegetable, Brussels sprouts, until I moved to the US. I call them mini cabbages and they’re super tasty when baked in the oven drizzled with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Mmm.. mouth watering already, guess what’s for dinner!
I still have nightmares of not finishing my exam papers on time. The tick tock sound from a clock is usually relaxing but in this situation the ticking clock is more like a ticking bomb that would only add more stress counting down till the end.
Anything that’s vintage always comes with it’s own unique charm and attraction. Every vintage item can reveal many interesting and mysterious stories. Not because we share memories with them but because they look so extravagant and elegant. It feels like they have a character and history despite the imperfections.