Tears filled up in her eyes. How could he think like this thought she.
“Does your chest clench and breathing stop when you see my name on the Facebook timeline or have you already blocked me?” read a status. His name with a dark shadow of profile picture floated above the message.
She clicked comment, put her hands over the keyboard and wondered what she should write. Her husband walked in to the room, she quickly clicked away. Who was she kidding to? She would never reply. She was happy with her husband now, he was a better life choice than that pre-twenties love she had found. And thoughts floated away to when they were …

He cried in his pillow that night again. She wouldn’t reply. She had changed. This was what he had wanted from her. For her to live on. He didn’t want to disturb or poison her world. Then why was it so hard.

Apple, don’t do that. She said sternly to her daughter. Apple, the name they had decided they would nickname their daughter. What would he feel if he knew she named her child that?

Can someone please proofread and point out any mistakes?

Slaves of these pumps

Thinking back I remember how she flowed down the aisles. Tearing my heart out of my chest. Her smiles like blossoms.

You know I was not the smartest in the matter of these blood pumps. I knew her and felt something I couldn’t explain. I was sitting with her in her room, sharing our days. Oh yes, it was February the 14th. It was not because of love and neither because of attraction. It was like I had never done it before, I didn’t have a girlfriend. We didn’t have girlfriends in our days. For some reasons, she felt like the person to be with and without a sense and before I could talk myself out of it, I blurted it out. And guess what it was. It wasn’t “be my girlfriend” nor was it “I love you”. It was “will you marry me?”

This was just when we had begun our college. We went to different colleges. But we would meet at weekends and when we could. She was a good friend and close to me. She looked at me and stared. I looked into her eyes and fear rose in me that I would have to leave her gracious company. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have said this. She kept looking.

Her lips quivered and she exhaled, “It is too early for us. Complete your college, finish your studies”. I couldn’t read her mind for mine was speeding to all thoughts.

I left her house that day and returned the next weekend. It was more of an impulse than real love that made me blurt out those words. I felt good that this mishap didn’t break our friendship. We talked, watched films and had the best days.

My engineering was coming to an end. I got a job through campus selection. I called her and told her.

Next day, I met her and exaggerated about how I had cracked the tough question at the interview and how I was among the few who got the job. She was calm for some reason and lost in thought. I was too occupied to notice at that time.

She moved next to me and said something. I looked at her puzzled. I wasn’t sure what she had said. It couldn’t be true, I must be mistaken.

She had proposed. And now was reminiscing how she spent long hours after I left, thinking about me and thinking of a life we could have together. I was distraught. My words from long ago had somehow taken root and from then she looked at me like I was hers. She didn’t know I had just blurted without thought.

Now it made sense that she was mad when I spoke of girls at my college and when I told her how I fancied that particular girl with rosy cheeks.

I said no. I didn’t have any other words. It’s amazing how much you could say and how much you manage to do. I left her there. Sitting on that chair next to the old table where we had spent several years doing our homework.

It was a loss. I couldn’t bear what my dumbness had done. Brought pain. I went home and messaged her something. She replied and I replied. This went on all night. It was the first time we had done this. We messaged all the time but this was different. We had never messaged through the night nor shared our hearts this way.

We messaged all day and all night. No one at home seemed to notice. We did the same thing the next day. Then something moved in my mind and I remembered I had said no.

Somewhere deep in my heart, I thought I was better than this, than her. I was an engineer, had a job in the most favoured company. Not to sound like a pig with a big ego but I felt I could find someone better. She wasn’t my destiny.

I stopped replying. She sent message after message. I didn’t reply.

My ego had taken a hold. She stopped. To this day, I wonder what she felt for she wouldn’t share those days with me. I left the city and was kept engaged with my new life. My new life was great. Away from home and all binds, I was the king of my life. All thoughts of her and her pain left me.

A couple of years later, I had made my mark and was soaring through my career. I was soon chosen to go to US for my job. Something I wanted for long.

Before I left the country, I went home to spend a few days with your grandparents. One day she came to my house. I felt guilty for not going to meet her. It was a long time since we had spoken. We had drifted apart.

The childhood friendship was weakened by the coming of youth. I saw the love in her eyes again. I acted as though I didn’t notice. We spoke and laughed. It was hard to sit in the room with her. She left.

The night before I left for US, she came to bid me bye. She and I found ourselves alone. We were silent. She spoke softly, “can’t you marry me? You know my parents have started searching”. I thought, how her life would change. How she would need to quit her government job and come with me to US and become a housewife. Leave her passion and life behind.

I was saved from telling her anything. The taxi had arrived and it was time to go.

What would have I said? Yes, I wish nothing else or no, don’t be stupid. Was it my ego that I could find someone else? Or was it a fear of what would happen? I didn’t want to discomfort by asking her to change her life and her job.

Before I could finish the story, my wife entered and told the kids off. It was time for them to sleep. And for me to lie away in my bed.

- Adapted from words of ....... May the name be never disclosed.

Enslaving with ego

In this modern world where slavery is supposed to be non-extant. How can you enslave not only a single human but a whole race? The word race and enslave in a single sentence arouses suspicion and is condemned. This suspicion and prohibitive stance towards talking about these, helps the masters.

It is “EGO”. In past couple of posts (1, 2); I discussed how ego was the villain of humanity. It is so powerful that it can enslave the self. But it is ignorance towards ego that allows those, who understand its power, to use it against the very person who thinks the masters cannot touch them. The very ego that makes them feel strong and free from the grasps of their opponents, is in truth, their opponents chains to bind and control.

You convince people that everything that is wrong with them is actually their pride. It is their way to doing things. It is their way of life. And anyone trying to convince them otherwise, is demeaning their self, their existence and their social/individual entity. Thus converting people who see their enslavement and want to help into their mortal enemies.

So how do you start this? First you alienate the women. Poke the ego of the men to objectify the feminine of their race. As human society has been mostly patriarchal in several centuries, this is easy. You can either constrain them by falsely pointing out that women are lower/weaker than men. A woman trying to fight for herself is wrong in doing so and should be taught a lesson.

In societies/religion where this is not allowed or difficult. You demean the women. You shape their brain to think that displaying and objectifying their self and body is what they want and not what they have been brainwashed to do. Doing so allows the men to see them as objects instead of equals.

With half of the population out of picture and successfully under control of one gender. If you can appeal to the ego of the remainder, you win the war on their brains and can enslave them. You twist your hand and the hands of your slaves twist their hands to force the subordinated women.

How do you control the men? Easy. Take away education from them. Make them think that it is their choice not to study. Or better if possible teach them the incorrect version of things. Help them idolize the criminals, the quitters, the mentally/physically unfit and the uneducated. Humans for some reasons are attracted to the wrong thing.  When the young see their older generation follow their enslavement with pride, they follow the same path.

There will be some exceptions, some strong willed people who understand there is something wrong with the society at large and want to change at least themselves, if not the world. Slowly this disease of self understanding will propagate and the slaves will see for themselves and break the chains. But till then, the masters can use/bend them, the way they want to.

Is everything written above actually true? – I don’t know but it falls into the patterns of society now.

Remember the story of how elephants are tied to thin chains they can easily break but because of experiences they assume themselves to be weak. Also, it took those who were slaved a long time to break the tradition and fight for themselves despite the fact that the number of slaves was mostly greater than their masters.


He sat on the stool next to the bed. She lay on the king-sized bed with old stained dark red sheets. The room looked small for such a large bed. The sky blue curtains on the single window in the room hardly let any light in. It faced towards the busy road and was smeared with rain drops sliding on the glass. Deep in thought of his past and worries of his future, he sat still.

A sudden gasp and life left her. He didn’t check her pulse nor her breath. He knew she was gone. Hidden emotions exploded within him but all his tears were sucked into the pit in his heart where she lived.

He heard a thump and realized he had fallen off the stool and was now sitting on the floor. It was cold. Cold. She would soon be cold too, he thought.

Slowly the warmth of her body will leave her along with the colour of her skin. Her beautiful pink cheeks will soon turn pale. Pink, a colour mostly attributed with feminism. He loved pink. And loved her to see in pink. He shrugged then started collapsing under his own weight and started curling. It looked like the hole in his heart was sucking him in. Like a black hole millions of miles away stealing light and warmth of stars.

Warmth. He couldn’t remember what it felt like.

Another Skin

The clear water sparkled like thousand diamonds bringing memories from so long ago. It felt like a different life, a different person. It was like it was me wearing someone else’s skin. But then it was.

Stripping Pride

She lied in her room alone with solace and pride. She moved to the neighbourhood despite her counsel. It was cheap enough for her to afford and save some money for school. Working at the low income job as a waitress wasn’t her idea of life but without realizing when or how she ended up here. Among the people she saw as low lives.
It was here, he first saw her. The sweet round face with a brown eyes and black hair. Her eyes shown with the pride and determination to lead herself out of her circumstances.

He was nobody. Bragging about the things he had done. Stealing where he could. Begging if he couldn’t. He started following her.
She became aware of his movements but did nothing about it for the fear of retaliation.

There was a thud followed by a crackling sound of breaking glass. A chill went down her spine. All the advice she had got for not renting the place past her eyes. Before long, someone tried pushing the door.

She slammed the door tight. But he was strong. He pushed back.

Her twin bed was covered with blue sheets and had Mickey mouse on it. The cartoon character that had seen a world change would today be a silent witness on crime against her.

He pulled his knife out and pushed it against her door. It pierced her flesh and she bled. She had never thought she would bleed this way. Again and again he pushed the knife in a harmonic motion and she cried moaned for it was anything but harmonic.

Knowing he had done her and satisfied with his hunger for crime fulfilled. He glanced at his knife covered with blood and other bodily fluids before tucking it inside.