• Introduction

    The one thing that came naturally to me was telling stories.As a toddler I was seen reading newspaper.Yeah toddler!

    So here I begin my official journey as a Storyteller.As absurd is essential and first truth for me,so here I will write my heart out.And my inspiration is not my English teacher,who made us write in the mornings after high school,but I got inspired when all those write ups went to the kabadiwala..

    I have this strange habbit of always having fond memories of the past.My utopian world is always in past tense.And nobody has the time and energy to match my pessimistic approach towards dear Life,so I thought let’s put it all up and see if before leaving this beautiful body and a happening soul I get any admirers who appreciate my art of storytelling .

    Let’s keep our sanity intact and breathe till some catastrophe kills all Homo sapiens sapiens

  • Not in love…

  • Leftover love…

  • Nyctophile…🖤

  • Lonesome…

  • Life goes on…💜

  • Regret

    She wanted to see me since months, I did not go because I was worried,how will it appear. My belly was big, I was looking like a whale. Also,she would come for my delivery and then we could talk for hours. Even when she asked me, should I come to see you. I declined. I thought,here his family would not like it, they anyway complain that I go to see her uninvited.

    It was my wedding anniversary. There was a video call, I had missed. It was her. It was also my last chance to see her alive, talking, smiling. I called her and said I was busy. So I missed the video call, she said it’s fine. She asked me to send my pictures. I sent my pictures from every month, from the last time she had seen me.

    A week later,at night I saw a message from mama, Nanimaa is no more. I could not believe it. I still cannot believe it. How can God be so cruel. She was so eager to see my baby and she left without meeting him. I was in the last trimester, she was getting the house done, so that when mother comes, everybody gets settled comfortably.

    That night I could not sleep, I was so uncomfortable, I cried and then waited, again cried. Later it would haunt me, maybe due to that reason my son stays awake at nights. I made him uncomfortable, he would stay awake with me, in my belly. I would sleep in morning,and he sleeps in morning, even after coming out.

    I could not see her, I did not go to meet her.I did not pick her call. I have so many regrets. This one pain is so big for me that I won’t be able to overcome it ever…

  • Let me hold your heart as you read my mind I’ve realised over time you belong to my kind…🖤 #musingsthatareheartfelt #charusneha #charu #wildflower #herechoes #yqbaba #poetry #iseeyou Read my thoughts on @YourQuoteApp #yourquote #quote #stories #qotd #quoteoftheday #wordporn #quotestagram #wordswag #wordsofwisdom #inspirationalquotes #writeaway #thoughts #poetry #instawriters #writersofinstagram #writersofig #writersofindia #igwriters #igwritersclub❤🖤 https://www.instagram.com/p/CKULPReAU8k/?igshid=16oor9suy585d

    I see you
  • Rangmanch


    So this particular year Nanimaa was visiting us in Lucknow and Durga Puja came. She used to fast for all nine days and would only do falahar. No grains, vegetables etc. I was doing engineering in Amity and like every quintessential college going girl,I had nothing good to wear.

    “Where do you get the best ones Charu Rani?” Nanimaa had interjected my conversation with Mummy,where she was scolding me to focus on studies and forget the festivities.”What Nanimaa?”I asked.

    Next thing I know is,We,Nanimaa and I are going to Saharaganj in a rickshaw. She took me directly to Pantaloons,in the ground floor section. She asked the salesgirl “Where are the freshly arrived dresses?”. “Madam We have started a new line of Kurtis this year”she replied,pointing towards a direction.

    “Nanimaa it’s expensive!”I whispered in her ear. “You don’t worry about the expenses,I want to buy you one”she said in her ever confident tone. So we began exploring. I liked one Kurti,showed it to Nanimaa. She asked me to try it. Try it? My heart sank,she had not even taken the evening fruits and was waiting for me in front of the trial room. “No this looks droopy”she said and asked one salesgirl to choose one for my slender frame.

    Pantaloons had started Rangmanch,or maybe I got to know about it that year. It was my first and was I over the moon.

    “You took her out even after knowing she has not eaten anything”Mummy shouted at me,when we reached home. She was so furious that she did not even looked at the packet.

    Even though later Mummy saw it and complained how the dress was overpriced,it was short for my lanky frame and how it was a bad idea to go without her. Nanimaa just said” I wanted my Natni(granddaughter) to feel happy.”

    This was our Vibe

  • Unfinished goodbye…

    Unfinished goodbye…


    I was born in Patna, my Nanimaa raised me for the first six months as her own child,infact she kept me under her wings throughout my adolescence, teenage and youth even when we lived in different cities.

    When I got pregnant with my first born,I was residing in the same city, as her and was rest assured that Nanimaa is here, everything is going to be fine. A month before my due date she left us for her heavenly abode.

    The pain of separation from her is unbearable for me, it seems I cannot get over the fact that she is no more with us, so I am going to journal down my beautiful memories with my Nanimaa.

  • Black shirt

    Black shirt

    “Can I discard this?”Shamu asked, showing me a black shirt which was in a very poor state,with rugged collar and holes.”No!” I almost shouted.”Keep it at the iron table”I added.She rolled her eyes at me, carelessly kept the shirt on the table and left.

    I couldn’t fathom how could I tell her the long story behind this shirt. This black shirt now nothing but a rag had played a huge role in transforming my life.

    The transformation from a gawky teenager to my confident self. And it involves a boy, the real owner of that black shirt. As cliche as it may sound, my story involves a boy, a boy who was close to me. And as cliché as it may sound but he played the main lead in my story of transformation…

    It all started thirteen years ago,when I was all young and innocent. Too innocent it seems and the story behind it is sad. From the very beginning I was a little too sensitive a little too emotional. I found it hard to express myself, to adjust, to talk to everyone.
    On top of that my father had to leave the city long back When I was barely able to read to take care of my grand-father who was paralysed due to stroke he had While working in the fields. And my father blamed himself for it.So he took off along with us and went to live in the village to take care of my Dadaji and all the agricultural land that we have.

    But in the process I was denied many things which children of my age enjoyed, mostly the love, care and protection that a Father gives. With my inherent introvert nature and this lack of a father figure, I became the personification of that girl who is invisible to all and starts breaking sweat as soon as even a part of limelight touches her. But what I lacked in brawns I gained in brains. Books were my best friends who talked to me and gave me company.

    That friendship helped me to secure the first position in my district in my board examinations of Intermediate class. It made my parents, especially my mother who was both my father and Mother super proud.

    So for my board holidays my mother sent me to my maternal hometown, my Nanaji’s place to continue my studies further, which by the way was the Education hub of the state. My Nanaji was a renowned lawyer, even my uncles were well established and they were the ones who had persuaded my mother to send me there for better avenues.

    It was a long holiday so there was time for me to decide what subjects would I take for my graduation and what path I will go on.

    My maternal aunt loved me a lot but would always complain that I never show interest in learning any fine arts be it painting or any musical instrument. My only solace came with my best friends the books, and my secret power that helped me top class after class.

    We all decided to wait for a week or two before discussing about the various career opportunities from which I could choose my favourite. Meanwhile for the time being I was asked to relax and enjoy my free time. And like a good friend I planned to go through all the books kept in the big library in our home.

    Each evening I would take with me a cup of tea and coconut biscuits to the terrace and sit there with the books. The books were a mix of all genres inspirational ones, autobiographies and sometimes even romantic ones.
    One evening my eyes were hurting from reading nonstop for long time, so I began to stroll across the terrace for a change and for no reason started gazing across the boundary. There in the adjacent house I saw a boy sitting on the edge of a shaded part of the balcony.He was wearing a black shirt and it appeared that he was also trying to look at me so a wave of self awareness came over me and like my usual self I ran and went downstairs.

    Next day, I was dying with curiosity to see if that balcony guy was still there… And lo he actually was there! As the houses were not that distant and it would be embarrassing to go near so I looked from afar and saw the person again wearing that black shirt. He was reading something and his back was towards me. I did not realize back then, but now I get it. I was curious and maybe a bit infatuated.

    After 2 weeks

    My infatuation was not with the person but the concept of him. He was like my suave white knight in a black shirt who came out of those silly romantic novels.

    One of those days I caught the Flu and had to skip my daily routine of secretly stealing glances towards that stranger.
    I was sad about the fact that I couldn’t see him for three long days and in my mind I was worried that what if he would have stopped coming because I was not there. So with a heavy heart I went to my usual spot expecting to find nothing. My heart jumped with joy on seeing the black shirt clad boy! But this time something strange happened. He looked back as soon as he realized someone was staring at him and I felt he smiled at me. My cheeks turned crimson and I ran back.
    That guy actually smiled at me! I was on cloud nine… I went to my room, filled with exhilaration over the fact that he had actually acknowledged my presence.

    The same day after a while my Mami called me. She seemed excited as she was shouting from the angan itself, she said”Kanchan! Come here we have guests, they have come to meet you!”
    I thought some relatives might have come, so I went and saw that a lady near my mummy’s age was sitting with my mami. They told me that she was my mom’s childhood friend Saroj and that she used to adore me when I was a baby.
    “As soon as I got to know that Kanchan has topped in her district, I ran here to congratulate her” Saroj Aunty said cheerfully. “Don’t jest Bhabhi ji! she came last month only and now you got time to congratulate her.” my aunt replied with fake anger. Then Saroj Aunty started telling me stories about my childhood, how I was a happy baby from the beginning.
    I was engrossed in the conversation, and in between a boy came inside from our back side. “Shravan come here and meet Kanchan didi!”aunty said. And the boy came forward looked at me and smiled.

    My face lost some color. It was him.My Aunt noticed and asked ”What happened Kanchan? Why are you looking so weathered? Are you all right or has the Flu come back? ” Before I could reply,Shravan the boy with devilish spark in his eyes said ”Maybe she saw a ghost!” Everybody started laughing. “Stop it Shravan!” Saroj aunty said.

    “Kanchan please do me a favor, teach this big oaf mathematics so he can score like you” she added looking at her son lovingly.
    At that moment a cute little girl with a similar but much feminine face similar to Shravan came to call Saroj aunty saying she was hungry, on that everybody stood up to leave. In the commotion Shravan stealthily came near me and spoke very softly in my ear “Should I come in my black shirt, so you would look at me?”