Posted in Death, Fiction, Life, Love, Story

Chucking Love + Death


“Can you pass me the brown bra?”: Me

“Can you pass me the pink one?”: Me

“What’s wrong, with the other one?”: Stefan

“Umm… I don’t know. My breasts are weird today.”: Me

“Oh really? Can I have a look?”: Stefan

“Toss it! I am running late for work.”: Me

I could feel the slight tingling sensation in them. It seemed as if, they had turned heavy overnight.

“Stop it! Your perfume smells really weird!”: Me

“You forced me to buy this!”: Stefan

I consciously ignored him and rushed to the kitchen. He had prepared eggs and toast for breakfast. Suddenly, a wave of nausea and extreme tiredness engulfed my body. I decided to skip work and rest.

I was cranky and almost everything was rattling my cage. Stefan was really annoyed, but he didn’t say anything. He advised me to sleep or visit the doctor. I was feeling tired but, not sleepy.

I ordered mushroom pasta and vegan pizza for lunch. ‘Il Pacioccone’ was one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Amsterdam. But, as I took the bite – my stomach rejected it and I had to run to the bathroom. Some yellow fluid landed in the basin and a thought crossed my mind. “Maybe, I am pregnant.” I said to myself. My mind was not able to stop wondering about Stefan’s reaction. We had never talked about this, but I had hidden a pregnancy test kit, in my closet. My period date hadn’t arrived yet, but I felt this urge to take the test. I touched my stomach and I couldn’t help but, muse upon the idea of giving birth to our baby.

I took the test and I could hear my heart beating and curiously waiting for the result. Those ten minutes were like ten hours. The expectations of the future and the memories of the past, had joined – to play a movie in my mind. My hand was shaking; my mind was speaking a million words; my heart was experiencing a storm – hoping for the sun to gift some light. I gathered all my strength; prayed for the best and looked at the result. I saw two parallel red colored lines and my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t wait to inform Stefan, but I wanted to confirm it with the doctor. I did not want to light any false hope in his heart.

I went to my doctor and she ran some tests. The results were due the next day. When I returned home, he was already back. He inquired about my day and health. I couldn’t wait but I was obligated to; my feelings were held captive in the quod of time. I was not able to sleep because of the butterflies that were dancing in my belly. I stared and stared at him. I analyzed his features from top to toe. He was sound asleep but, I could imagine his beautiful eyes. I had lost myself in them; they were my source of joy. Brown like a glass of whiskey, positioned in the sunlight; shaped like almonds – precisely and beautifully. The lips which had read each chronicle of my body; arms that had both shielded and liberated my soul; hands that perfectly fitted into mine; legs and feet that walked with me through the miserable times.

I never knew, when I fell asleep. He had already left for work. I wasn’t working that day. The doctor was a close friend so, I called her to ask for the result. She confirmed it was positive. I immediately called him and pleaded him to come home early. He was really angry as he thought something had happened to me. But, he didn’t say much and I told him to sit on the couch and listen carefully.

He exclaimed with happiness and held me in his arms. He picked me up with a sense of gratefulness.

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”: Stefan

“Okay! I finally get to wear the wine dress.”: Me

“Yeah. Let’s go to Brasserie Ambassade”: Stefan

“Fancy! Fancy!”: Me

The table was alongside the river. Little buds and leaves were floating it. The old and colonial infrastructure, made me feel delightful in a remarkable way. Lightly camel colored, leaves were all over the lanes. The jolly waiter poured some ‘stars’ in our glasses. I like the word, ‘stars’, instead of ‘champagne’. It adds to the mysterious nature of the city. We ordered Entrecôte grille and Saumon fumé maison; which were a unique change of taste. Later, we went over to a bridge and enjoyed the dance of an old couple. I could see satisfaction in their smiles as they moved their arms and legs, to the music of the player’s violin. I imagined me and Stefan, being them or maybe happier than them – in the coming days. We sat alongside the river and gazed at the wide dark yonder.  The moon slowly smiled and started playing hide and seek with stars. The wind took all my worries away. I held his face in my hands and kissed him, like I hadn’t before. I still remember the taste of his lips; salty and sweet; wild and negotiable; like a gift from the guardian angel.

Seven months passed as quick as a wink. He took care of me, like a bossy young man. I didn’t have to worry about anything, I couldn’t believe I was living this dream. Every woman hopes to find a man like him. A man who acts like a man. A man who respects his wife and offers her all the love in the world. Every day he would take me out for a walk in Albert Park. The doctor had suggested a walk after dinner. It was fun watching him taking care of little things.

19 April, 1919. It wasn’t like every other day. The day carried a surprise with it. I was waiting for him to come back. Generally, he would come back-around eight in the evening. An hour passed by and he wasn’t there. I thought, maybe he was stuck with a client. But, he would always attend my call. Why wasn’t he answering my call? What was wrong? The clock struck eleven and then twelve. I called all his friends and enquired. Drew came to the house, and we drove all the way to the office. My heart was a tornado; spinning and spinning; collecting every negative thought in the world. We arrived at the building and asked the guard. He said that Stefan was inside and had been working. We asked for permission and went inside.

I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I even screamed his name, but nobody answered. I went near his desk and saw a familiar body lying on the floor. The white shirt was drained in blood. The blue coat had become purple. The face was unrecognizable, buried beneath the scars and acid. Later, the autopsy report said that he passed out and then the killer drilled holes in his body. I saw those holes, he didn’t drill them in his body – he drilled them in my soul. It also stated that, he was tortured and died a brutal death. You must be wondering about my reaction. Well! I was standing right beside the killer. Drew killed him and then tricked me to enter the office. He stabbed me in my stomach and killed our baby. I was conscious and I felt the pain. I screamed and screamed but nobody could hear me. He took my reasons within an evening. Crushed into pieces like glass. Even the guard was bribed and sent away by him. Envy had decided to dig graves.

I attended my daughter’s and husband’s funeral. She was so beautiful. She had his eyes and lips. She had my arms and legs. She was like an angel. But, she died. She died. My daughter died and even took her father away or maybe he took her away. Nasty people! They left me alone in this hell-hole. I tried to kill myself but failed. They caught me! These people are crazy and they say I am crazy! They have locked me up in this small room.



I draw breath in a slammer, from day to night.


I continue to exist in a helpless and crestfallen form.


The sun rises and brings hope, but it doesn’t forget to steal it during the dusk.


It was a long time ago, when I concluded being my own sunshine.


My mind has created its own personal hell.


My soul rots everyday as, my arms remain clutched by spells that guard pain.


With every day, the darkness inside me magnifies.


I feel like running as fast as I can, I want to fall and lose my breath.


I don’t want to stay within these walls.


My heart is an impression of bleak desolation.


It is uninhabited and longs for warmth in the coldness of the world.


This unexplainable murkiness proceeds to construct inside me.


Love never perishes it just transmutes into a state of pain, suffering and distress.



Posted in India, Rape

22 August 2018

I think things aren’t always the same. Even if I don’t think that, there is no harm in assuming it. Is there? We can’t connect everyone with our cringy experiences and run away from them. Can we? Of course, we can. It’s so hard choosing to stay and neglecting the certainty of the negative aftermaths.

It’s perplexing coming to terms with the silly fact, ‘People do bad things to each other (Intentionally)’. Once you are aware of this, the world becomes a bowl of candies. You never know, what you might accidentally pick. You could have diarrhea by picking the wrong candy or having too much of a flavor. Too much of anything is bad. Whether its love or hatred. The difference between them is that – Too much of love leads to lifelong slavery and dilemmas. Even a bit of hatred can destroy lives.

Why do rapes take place? Familiar question – isn’t it? Some of us have been neglecting it thinking- ‘its something meant to happen to the ones with misfortune.’ Even though you don’t say it out loud, doesn’t it play at the back of your head? Our lethargic attitude is amusing. Can you recall the feeling of rolling out of bed, during wintry mornings? It hard, isn’t it? We all have been there? Haven’t we? We know we should get up. Our brain says we should, but the voice beneath this voice says doesn’t matter, let’s stay there for 10 more minutes. But, 10 minutes eventually turn into hours. Our justice system, is so jammed that we longer care about it. It exists but it doesn’t have any existence. We don’t want to go on lurking on one incident for years and years. With a population of 1.3 Billion, we do not have enough judges to give us, what we call – ‘Insaaf.’ Its pretty hard to appoint judges, isn’t it? Its a responsible job and has safety requirements as well.

Posted in Life

Hindi Poetry Attempt 1

आरज़ू थी पर हिमत से मजबूर थे,

अल्फ़ाज़ मुह की देहलीज पर डेरा लगा कर बैठे थे|

दिल उकसा बी रहा था और रॉक भी रहा था,

कुछ अजीब सा सिल्सला पैदा हो रहा था|

न इधर से चूँ, न उधर से चूँ,

थी तो बस ख़ामोशी और दिल की बढ़ती धडकने|

दिल बेचैनी से मजबूर था,

पूछना ज़रूर था|

तो हमने भी एक कोशिश कर ही ली,

और आपने भी हमारे दिल की बात समझ ही ली||

-Palak Arora

Posted in Life

Overflow of Dilemmas

Some nights, are just not right. They carry a bad vibe with them. But, moreover they carry helplessness. There’s just too much, and you cannot figure things out. I am not one of those people, who have been living with it for ages. I prefer to sort out. But, some things are better left untouched. But, some things should be mended and some thrown away. I don’t know. So, many ‘buts’ and various perspectives – screw things up. They play highly with a writer’s head. Because he/she is someone who has to present a collection of perspectives to the world.

-Palak Arora

Posted in Fiction, Life, Poetry

22 February 2018

Gently reclining my back on the ground,

I took a quick look around.

The insects were bumbling,

and the birds were sleeping.

The wind touched my hair,

and a pair of eyes began to stare.

My presence woke him up,

and he asked me what’s up?

I narrated my day’s chronicle,

and he said that it was phenomenal.

He was dressed up in wine,

and was ready to dine.

He wore a sophisticated scent,

and spoke in a powerful accent.

-Palak Arora

Posted in Life, Musings, Poetry

Slashing our upper storeys,

with sarcastically formulated words.

Feeding on our insecurities,

like ravenously hungry beasts.

Hauling us down,

to snip off our shanks.

Shutting our mouths,

and striving to slit our throats.

Between hating our guts,

and destroying their own time,

they end up nowhere.

-Palak Arora