Four Clover Life- By Namrata Shailendra Singh

“Oh! Such a tiring night. These Indian parties are backbreaking. Naina felt so exhausted holding me around. Phew! It is 11:00pm,” remarked the saree, disturbing the silent slumber of the closet. She carried an air of immutable superiority, stemming from her roots and did not miss an opportunity to assert it over to the ones she called ‘outsiders’. “And we have so much competition, I felt backseat with such long sleeves. They were going gaga over you though Sia.” The blouse let out a big groan that woke up most of the other dresses in the wide horizontal closet. Click on  The Riot  to read the full story. Image courtesy-Pixabay

"Could you open the gate for me?" Naina looked at the Yellow Cab taxi driver, his eyes complaining of poor sleep. The February chill accompanied by a moonless sky made her shiver as she stood with a Kohl’s poly-bag, trying to balance the ‘things’ inside with one hand and her little baby boy sleeping on her shoulder with another. “Of course.” The driver spoke in a fake fruity voice, bending backward and opening the rear seat door for her. “Hi, I can place this bag on the seat, or do you want me to place it in the trunk?” Click on  Homeless to Homeless  to read the story. Image courtesy-Pixabay

He smiled and handed it back to her, “I love this hot pink Maa. Do you think Draupadi would like hot pink? I forgot to tell you...I am playing Draupadi in our college production... rehearsals started a week back." “Oh! That’s nice. When is the program?” she asked. “On the day of Diwali. The team thought I could really do well as Draupadi. You know I have those  adaayein  Maa,” Arjun threw his hand over his bosom, lowering his eyelids with the coyness of a girl. Click on  Trapped  to read the full story. Image courtesy-Pixabay

"When I was growing up, YOU had a problem with my gender, then my complexion, then the small size of my breast, then my height, later my puberty, then college choice, career choice, choice of friends, hair on my armpits, choice of what I wear, choice of what I don’t wear, choice of hair and habits, choice of the short skirt and stilettos, body-hugging tee, amount of words I spoke, hand gestures, loud voice, mannerisms, boldness, places I visited, the time I visited, why I visited and with whom, my red lipstick to my nose stud, my beer, and my sex on the beach, my religion, rituals I follow, fasting’s that I do not do, one leg anklet that I am in love with, the cuss words that I speak or do not speak…basically, my very existence." To read the full story, click on  the weight on my breasts!   This article was featured on Mompresso and widely read and appreciated.  Image courtesy-Pixabay

What happens when a series of burglary in your community leads you helpless and hapless? What happens when the apartment management does little and then moves on with life and rent?  What happens when all you can now do is WAIT FOR YOUR TURN, knowing very well that one day it could be your home, hoping the day never comes.     Dear Robber, Now that you have created the right amount of fear and panic in the community I live, the apartment I inhabit, I thought it was a good time to talk to you face to face. Oh! But where is the face? Huh! Who cares. I know you way too well. Robbers don’t have a face, they have deeds. What they rob is not as important as what they leave behind. So, what if I do not know the length of your nose, the light brown Mongolian spot on your neck, the color of your eyes but let me tell you, all robbers look the same and everything you did in my neighbor’s home when she off to Costco to buy milk and grocery for her family was callous and spiteful. So

“What’s the difference Naina? I understand your pain. But people make a living because it is important to live life.” “I am making more than a living Chandana. It’s just that I find it all meaningless… an emptiness where I am all about numbers, targets, awards, promotions, pay package, a kind of excess which is making me unhappy. I think I am missing out on life?” “And what exactly is that?” “I am not sure; I can’t put my finger on it and say- this is it, but I know that the abundance that I have is not making me happy. It doesn’t give me joy.” Click on  Life Calling  to read the story. Image courtesy-Pixabay

"I see her again and I feel the envy rise. 120 seconds before I had decided not to ever visit her Facebook profile, exactly 120 seconds later my mind forces me, and I read her new post, actually old for me, it has been 16 hours since she posted, and I have visited, read, re read, processed it 16000 times. With father and son on a camping trip over the weekend, I am drowning in the company of happy faces on Facebook.   FB ruined me, almost literally. If I had the powers, I could get the owners of FB arrested for unleashing a heinous social crime on us. Or is it just me? May be, just me. My mind cannot stop. I need to see a shrink." Click on  Phew!  to read the full story. Image courtesy-Pixabay