Posts by Rutika Nainwani

I Am Sorry

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> “Sorry Maa, I couldn’t draw the house properly.” I look up from the sketch book into the remorseful eyes of my five-year-old daughter. Her eyes hold tremendous pain for a girl that young. I keep the book aside and envelop her in my

Sealed Fate

The bell jingles as I open the door to the wooden shack. Accompanying the sound of the bell is your exuberant laughter booming across the space, enveloping everyone in your mirth. This was the first thing that had made me aware of your presence months ago. The melodic, uninhibited sound was like music to my confused soul. Thereafter, it just happened.     Bit by bit, you squeezed your way

Dearest Child

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> Dearest Child,   The world has awoken to another beautiful day. The sky is lit up in beautiful hues of gold, red and orange. The sunrays crisscrossing through the gliding clumps of clouds look almost ethereal. I am playing with the tiny dew

Ageless Hobbies

“Where are the camphor tablets kept?” she whispered.   He gave her a quizzical look and shrugged. She gave him a deadly glare, as deadly as could be in a room that was lit by the soft light emanating from the tiny mobile screen. The shadows danced across her face as they sat in the almost dark basement, trying to be as stealthy and silent as possible.   She pointed

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Whenever something good happens, I immediately think of him. When something bad happens, I have to share it with him. He knows me better than I know myself at times. He knows when I am happy, when I am ecstatic, when I’m freakishly joyful and when I’m full out crazy! He knows when I am low, when I’m sad, when I’m troubled and when I’m at the point of complete

Honeymooners

I entered the room quietly as I heard her humming her favorite song to herself while running her fingers through her wet locks. She looked divine with her brown hair cascading down her shoulder, her face freshly scrubbed, bereft of any traces of make-up, a rosy hue on her cheeks and a happy twinkle in her eyes. I felt a thrill knowing she was all mine. She must have sensed