Four Clover Life- By Namrata Shailendra Singh

Being a hoi-polloi, I find joy easily, and fear seeps easily too. I laugh easily, and I tremble easily. I thought COVID was a Wuhan thing and continued with life until it came knocking on my door, and I was horrified. I tried hard to dismiss it and pretend it cannot be my door. The knocking was relentless; it grew louder and louder, much to my chagrin. I chose not to open the door. Right then, it barged in, breaking the bolts, and I stood there feeling tiny and defenseless. Why did it come to me? How did it come to me? From where? Why? Who? all I had were questions and a tsunami of answers from all possible communication channels, each posted 'to share information, each doing just the reverse' create more fear.' So, I did what the rest of the aam aadmi does- RUN. To read the article, click on Hey Corona Image courtesy-Pixabay

  “And how do I know that?” “You will always know it, Naina. I am your conscience. You can never stop me. If your actions bring peace, you know what you are fighting for is worth the cause; if not, you know you are betting on the wrong horse.” The noise in her head grew louder like the whirlwind beats of a dhol. Naina stood in a stupor, her eyes transfixed on the Mangal sutra hanging from her mother’s slender neck. She stood coyly next to the man with whom she shared 38 years of life. Clad in a red banarasi sari, red vermillion along the part of her hair shining bright against her bronze skin, she looked most imperfect standing diminutively next to Naina’s father – fair-skinned, tall with an Englishman’s look in a single-breasted plaid suit. To read the full story, click on  The Unbecoming . Women's Web with Anuja Chauhan(who has worked in advertising for over seventeen years and is credited with many popular campaigns. She is the author of five bestselling novels (The Zoya Factor

A willow grows on my head,  Surrounded by patchy buckthorns and crabgrass, Their roots penetrate and prick my aortas, In the background, we play masks and plexiglass.   A haircut would do me a world of good, I have let them grow way too wild,  Stereotypes and Prejudices cling to the grime, In the background, the power struggle refuses to reconcile.     They tangle easily and snag at the bottom, Split ends caused by hatred, resentment, and abuse When did we start to devour each other, In the background, we play 'which color do you ‘choose.'   Pediculosis Capitis ravages through the scalp, The pieces of broken dreams continue to pelt, It gnawed a large  part of  our identity and grace, In the background, the Alaskan glaciers melt.    White dandruff flakes abound all over, Hope suffocates as we itch in dark, We let a lot fall through the cracks these years, In the background, flicker the mutinous sparks.    We all need a hairdo and some introspection, So

Dear Students, Being your coach( I think I deserve a National Bravery Award here for surviving three turbulent and tumultuous years with you and coming out alive in one piece ), it is expected to produce exemplary sample writing which can impress my disciples and make me worthy of the hard-earned dollars your parents' deposit through an easy transaction in my bank account every month. So I wonder what sort of satire writing will work for enlightened minds like you? Several topics crossed my mind- political, social, and some even didactic. Later, I decided upon talking about something that defines me more than anything else- failures, failures that come in a variety of forms, and each of them has one thing in common- Hurt, not the kind that hurts but the kind that the world at large chooses not to acknowledge. JK Rowling spoke about it at Harvard, Steve Jobs at Stanford, and so did the former president Barack Obama at Wakefield High School; it almost seems like a rite of passage fo

" I slip inside my house, shivering. Hmmm, so they were boyfriend and girlfriend, in love. At 17, life presents itself hormonally. Later, it starts demanding money, and love is the first thing to go out of the window; I try not to conclude with the last gulp of my now cold tea. Later that night, a mortified mom’s frantic call keeps me awake- she found her daughter, a 6th grader,  watching pornography . Browsing history leaves her feeling devastated and broken." Click on the link to read the article - Parent's Locker Room Image Courtesy

Carrying them in the blue dustpan, I try to pronounce the word ‘Floccinaucinihilipilification,’ wondering where to fit it. The word might be difficult to pronounce, but that is exactly what everyone has been trying to do with me… Bloody rascals .  To read the full story click on  Bloody Rascals Image Courtesy-Pixabay

"During 9th-grade final exams, I memorized the questions which you had divulged to losers like us to ensure we got a passing mark.  Why memorized? Don’t know. Just did.  I could manage only the first sheet of the question paper, the last two sheets reserved exclusively for Gargi Vishwanathans of the world who had by now created a deep chasm between the intellectuals and the dunce. The former mingled with their pride and the losers hung together like a herd. It was a hard law of the world I learned: knowing only winners and losers." To read the full story, click on  Charred Image Courtesy-Pixabay

Who does that? Why should anyone do that? Huh! We finally have a face to the GOD we all believe in, whom we never got to see in real life otherwise. A thank you looks just so short and brief, almost disappearing before it appears; nonetheless, the feeling of indebtedness continues. Did we get it wrong all along?  To read the article click on   I know what GOD looks like! Image courtesy-Pixabay

No, I did not(  yes, I did and much more...some  stunning in its sheer stupidity   ); however, each of us has a narrative, some paragraphs of which we prize dearly, and some details we are not proud of . And then there are other dangling  between melancholy and maudlin.    To read the article, please click on  Mom, Can I Date? Image courtesy-Pixabay

Who knew balls could cause so much trouble?  Click on  Men, Their Balls, and my Life  to get an insight into the troublemaker, the scandalmonger, the rabble rouser-The Balls.  Image courtesy-Pixabay

" Chamomile tea had a way of easing her fibromyalgia-ridden body and Naina tried to relax. The letter from ABC Post lay on the chestnut center table of the living room. She had not asked for it. It came unannounced. Some of her writings had navigated the echelons of a famous literary journal in the United States and reached the editor of this famous American news website-The internet newspaper. The promises were incontrovertible; somebody sloshed in ten tequila shots would let go of an opportunity millions of starved writers yearned for. Name, Fame, and Money, as the cliché goes, is a heady cocktail, tempting and irresistible. With her husband and her son out for the weekend camping trip, Naina was all by herself to meditate, reflect and refuse. The year 2008 swirled in the leftover tea at the bottom of the LaOpala teacup; every part crystal clear, as if it was happening now. It took exactly a millionth of a second to go back." To read the full story click on li

“I  didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I know that everyone says that after a heartbreak, but the difference is that I’m not heartbroken. I’m not cynical, or pessimistic, or sad. I’m just someone who once felt something bigger than anything else I’d ever felt, and when I lost it, I honestly believed I would never have that again. But... I was 22 then and life is long. And I’m feeling things right now that I haven’t in a long, long time. Raunak is the name. Girish was the name and I need to LET GO. " To read the full story click on  The Lemon Tea Image courtesy-Pixabay

Her dreams were about disinfectants, Quaternary Ammonium Compounds, Chlorine Compounds, Iodine, Silver, etc. Her dreams were about high-level sterilants like Formaldehyde, Glutaraldehyde, Ortho-phthalaldehyde, Hydrogen peroxide, Peracetic acid, etc. Her dreams were about the bottles they came packed in, orange, lemon yellow, and blue and green, some as wipes, others as sprays, some with better grip and some with a curved nozzle for the inaccessible part of commode cleaning, and she dreamed of mixing them all and drinking it or adding them in the food she packed for her husband every morning in the Pyrex tiffin box. To read the full story, click on  The Genesis Image courtesy-Pixabay

It is difficult to decide who is a bigger cheater – my mother or my wife,’ I thought to myself, as I glowered at the brown-tinted okay spirit through the rocks and glass. My thoughts swirled like a hurricane as the roar of music drowned the collective talk of drunk men and women on a Friday night under the neon lights at Saints and Sinners, Connaught Place. The ‘happy hours’ were over and I was glad to have arrived way past the ‘happy.’ To read the full story click on the featured story on Women's Web  MUDITA . Image courtesy-Pixabay

"I am not poor; the digestive juices in my stomach are currently churning a warm bowl of oats with milk, bananas, and blueberries. The afternoon lunch is usually simple, a veggie wrap with ginger tea or an Indian lentil pancake. I have a $1550 two-bedroom luxury apartment with a newly installed Whirlpool dishwasher, a daughter who rides to school in her Disney Princess, a fuchsia pink bike with shiny streamers hanging from the handles, my husband prefers sex Friday nights post our dose of Malbec or Sauvignon Blanc strictly ranging between $13-$19 and chicken teriyaki from Panda Express." To read the full article, click on  Being Successful Is Hard   Image courtesy-Pixabay

“Now, what wrong did your bra do to you? Your nipples are popping out,” Pratima Siddhesh Prajapati, the 63-year-old widow of Lt. Siddhesh Prajapati, Ex-Vice President, UFLEX International, raised her eyebrows by inches when she saw her 33-year-old daughter Naina get ready for her school alumni meetup: ripped jeans and carrot pink scoop neck bling top falling off from one side of the shoulder, revealing the fair, young skin and something else too.  To read the full story, click on  Feminist? Image courtesy-Pixabay

“Oh! So, your son was in an extramarital affair?” Naina's voice quivered at the very mention of the word. “Ouch! That word sounds so painful but yes! And my daughter-in-law discovered and attempted suicide too.” To enjoy the story, please click on  MISSTEP . Image courtesy-Pixabay

I regret choosing love over my father’s dreams. Then what? During the first year of college, I met this amazing man and tossed my dreams like a paper ball out of the hostel room window, losing myself between the sheets. To read the winning blog  for #NoRegrets Blogathon presented by Harper Collins and Women's Web, click  I am Sorry But... Disclaimer- This story has a semb lance to people living or dead, but why should that matter. I met her on a train journey a few years back. I met her on Cathay Pacific airlines during a trip to Hong Kong. I met her during a cruise vacation to the Royal Caribbean. I met her on the road, in the parking lot, on the pathway. I met her yesterday; I met her 13 years back. She is here, and she is there, and she is nowhere, yet she is everywhere. Image Courtesy-Pixabay

Have you ever thought of escaping to Hawaii or the Bahamas in search of some peace, freedom, and fresh air and realize later, while lying on the golden sandy beach, that you have carried your miserable self along or the present is not delighting you the way you expected? I am not the exotic type; I have no big plans of traveling around the world, soaking on a beach in the Caribbean, hiking the world's most famous canyon, exploring ancient ruins, eating delicious cuisine, or learning more about a significant historical site. If I bump into them, I will pause, wonder, smile, and move on. If I don't, I am FINE. My biggest vacation is freedom from my mind and the voices it creates, a kind of freedom that turns my patio with five green plants into Hawaii. Do you believe that true freedom is freedom from oneself? I have realized that of many things that upset me, of many things that push and prick me, it is my own self that is the most bothersome. It is easy to deal with others,

My FIL knows I like wine, and had his health and family allowed him, I am sure he and I would be all ‘CHEERS.’ My husband’s family is a teetotaler except for my FIL.  He enjoys omelet treats with me on the terrace( that’s the only place we can cook the forbidden) and even secretly supplies me ‘ tangdi kebab ’ knowing very well that my ‘ tangdi ’ and his would be in trouble if ‘The House’ got to know about it. But he has me covered in his own unique way. Thank god for small mercies. Click on  My FIL's Kurta  to read the story.