Four Clover Life- By Namrata Shailendra Singh

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.

“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