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The Mad Man...!

A few weeks ago my hubby and I were waiting for our train at Vashi station when a lady begged us for money. Since she was looking healthy and capable to make her earning we refused the monetary help but offered her a biscuit packet. All of sudden, out of nowhere an old man in sixties wearing a pant and shirt with wearable slipper and a khadi shoulder bag appeared and scowled the lady away. He then turned to us and requested in English not to offer packed food, as these people don't eat them but sell them back to retailers. He had a point and we nodded.

But that was not it. He then started telling stories of similar incidents and repeating the same sentences in a loop. Within the next 2-3 minutes, we made up our minds to ignore him and designated him as a 'mad man'. Our disregards didn't convince him that he no longer had an audience and continued explaining the same thing. Finally, I broke my silence and rebuked him to leave us alone. In microseconds, I realized I act…
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Khajuraho: A small town with international fame.

"The world is getting more connected through technology and travel. Cuisines are evolving. Some people are scared of globalization, but I think people will always take pride in cultural heritage." -John Mackey
Do you know a town which did not has a railway station till 2008, or a proper mall even today with a handful of known brands but has hotels like Ramada, The Lalit, and Radisson? Is it even possible? Yes, it is. I'm talking about Khajuraho. A small town in Chhatarpur district of Madhya Pradesh, widely known for its erotic sculpture throughout the world. But this town offers much more with the temple walls engraved with passionate lovers.


Located in the Vindhya Mountain range, Khajuraho is a peaceful town without rush and traffic noises. Only greenery and a few huge hotel banners. You will easily find autos and cabs which could take you to different locations.

The Temples:
The temples are one of the UNESCO World Heritage Site and are divided into 3 groups, the Eastern, …

Chapter 3: The Confession

Trenched in guilt, we decided to go out to refresh our minds. It is Christmas Eve and the whole town is ornated. Everyone is in a festive mood, people are dressed, and kids are laughing and running. We brought some sweets and gifts for Martha’s children, but couldn’t face them. Their aunt opened the gate and we handed over the gifts to her. Martha lives in a crude neighborhood. Only small houses, shops for bare minimum necessities, no park for kids, or even a decent medical store. We walked out of the place immediately and drove to the Palolem beach.
“What should we do now?” I asked breaking the silence of the roaring waves.
A: What can we do?
“It’s because of us, Martha is behind the bars, and does anyone of you believe, she can murder someone, after everything she told us?”
R: What do you suggest?
“Buckle up and let’s find the real culprit.”
M: Are you high or something? How can we find out who attacked Rastogi. Only he knows and right now he is in a coma.
“Exactly, and that is why we ca…

Chapter 2: The Following

"So where were you last night Miss Rupali?" the police officer may be asking her. Rupali is the last one he called for questioning. We were just formality, it is her, he is really interested in. He asked us to sit on another side of the hall. We can clearly see the smirk on the officer's face but Rupali's was barely visible. We have many questions ourselves, to ask her. Why she called him? that too just before he was attacked? Does she know him personally? If yes, is there any conflict between them? Why she didn't tell us? The police officer may be asking her the same questions. We don't want to doubt her but the teeny tiny practical side of our brain is blasting all sorts of possibilities.

S: I hope she is not afraid. Officer is taking too long
M: Why would she?
"Yeah, why would she?" I muttered. We exchanged a worried look. "Shipra, she was with you last night, right?"
S: Yes yes, we were strolling through the garden and ...
"And??…

Chapter:1 The Night

Disclaimer: The following story is a 3 chapter murder mystery. The 5 names used here (Shipra, Rupali, Srashti, and Alamkriti are the real name of my school friends. Another resemblance with anyone or any incident is pure coincidence.)
If you want me to say that it is a usual night in Goa, I'll say it, but it is not. We are all gathered in the center dining hall of The Leela, thanks to Shipra, the Richie rich, beautiful and comptroller of our group of 5. Only she can make reservations on such short notice before Christmas. After many unsuccessful plans, 4 weddings and 1 baby we finally managed to have our dream trip, not Thailand, not Dubai but Goa, cause this was something we had been planning since 12th standard. We checked in 3 days ago for Rupali's bachelorette. Our small town girl is a big name in the industry and we now have a celebrity among us. We had never thought she will get married, cause she was basically married to her passion but then she met the lucky bastard sh…

बचपन की पोटरी: ईद मुबारक़ अंकल...!

बात उन दिनों की है जब मैं शायद 8 या 10 साल की थी | मेरा घर एक छोटे से शहर के बड़े से मोहल्ले में था | वहाँ दिवाली होली ईद क्रिसमस सिर्फ एक मज़हब के लोग नहीं पूरा मोहल्ला साथ में मनाता था । हर कोई वहाँ मुँह बोले रिश्तों में बंधा था | ज्यादातर मोहल्ले वाले हमारे अंकल आंटी नहीं बल्कि दादा दादी चाचा चाची होते थे | वैसे मुझे सारा मोहल्ला जनता था पर सामने वाले घर से मुझे और मेरे भाई को कुछ ज्यादा लगाव था। अंकल आंटी (क्यूंकि वो मम्मी पापा से बहुत बड़े थे इसलिए चाचा चाची नहीं बोल सकते थे ) और उनके 5 बच्चे।  3 लड़के जिनसे भाई की खूब बनती और 2 लड़कियाँ जिनसे मेरी खूब बनती | वो हर होली  हमारे यहाँ गुजिया खाने आते और हम हर ईद उनके यहाँ सेवइयां।

सब एकदम सही और खुशनुमां था सिर्फ एक चीज़ के | वो ये के मुझे अंकल से बहुत डर लगता था। इतना के अगर में घर से बहार निकलूं और अंकल अपने दवाज़े पर खड़े हों तो मैं उलटे पैर घर में चुप चाप वापस चली जाती थी। छत से छुप छुप कर देखती और जब अंकल वहां नहीं होते तभी बाहर जाती, फिर चाहे लंगड़ी में मुझे अपनी 2-3 चाल ही क्यों ना छोड़नी पड़े। इस बेवज़ह से डर की वज़ह तो मुझे आज तक नही…

Chore-son-ification: Chapter4

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.  ― Abraham Lincoln
This post is 4th part of 4 blog post series, for Ariel's #ShareTheLoad contest in association with blogadda. To read the 1st post, please visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter1, for the 2nd post, please visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter2 and for the 3rd post visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter3

Yes, the trick worked. Mr. hubby took out maa for shopping dining and a lot more. She is convincingly happy, but one can get that she hasn't forgotten about her missed trip from her sarcastic comments. Anyways, she got to know it was my idea to pamper her and she really appreciated the thought. And maybe this little appreciation was something I needed to get through the last Sunday's challenge. 

On Sunday morning, I made idlis but intentionally didn't buy bottle guard for sambhar.
"O shit! I forgot to buy lauki for sambhar. Can you please get it for me? Pleaseeeee."
After a long pause of 30 seconds,…

Chore-son-ification: Chapter3

”A man loves his sweetheart the most, his wife the best, but his mother the longest.”  – Irish Proverb
This post is 3rd part of 4 blog post series, for Ariel's #ShareTheLoad contest in association with blogadda. To read the 1st post, please visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter1, for the 2nd post, please visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter2and for the 4th  post visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter4
As I mentioned in my previous post, my mother and father in law, were on vacation for 2 weeks. But after few conversations with his friends, and news about Fani (Cyclone in Odisha), bad dreams started dauting papa. We tried to calm him but everything went in vain. Upon his constant request (begging), maa was convinced to return after a week. Now they are back. Papa is contended, hugged us tightly as soon as he stepped inside, but since then maa is furious and on no talking terms with papa.

I almost decided to drop the plan for writing this week, but to my surprise, mr. hubby, asked himself…

Chore-son-ification: Chapter2

It takes one woman twenty years to make a man of her son - and another woman twenty minutes to make a fool of him.  -Helen Rowland
This post is 2nd part of 4 blog post series, for Ariel's #ShareTheLoad contest in association with blogadda. To read the 1st post, please visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter1for the 3rd post visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter3, and for the 4th  post visit: Chore-son-ification: Chapter4
After a small help last Sunday, in doing the Sunday laundry, my Mr. hubby was surprising enthusiastic to help,  till Tuesday evening. After that he completely relucted and it was pissing me off. I should have known, he was only pretending for his mother. 
On Wednesday, maa-papa left for summer vacation with maasi's family, so for this next 2 Sundays, we are alone. Now making him help with chore has reached another level. But then I started mission Chore-son-ification: 2.
On Sunday, after his favourite idli-sambhar lunch, I said, "Okay then you have rest and I'…