Green. The colour associated with nature. With prosperity and fertility. But neither of these emotions come to mind when I see you in green.
Love seeped in Red and admiration for you are the only things which fills my being when I see you in green.
For the green saree that drapes you, shimmers and shines with its eloquent design and motifs.
The tribal jewellery adorning your neck and wrists accentuates your beauty further. The look is completed with a slender belly chain around your waist which completes the ethnic accessory look.
But my focus is back on the saree. It suits you beautifully!
The 6 yards of its length drapes your body well and gracefully underlines your class and elegance.
Its touch from your ankle below to covering your torso above…and in between fitting in snugly at your waist; it does it all!
As though not satisfied with so much poise, the saree’s ‘fall’ rises up on your shoulder and drops elegantly on the other side.
This is in totally opposite direction to your hair which bewitches like a black night and cascades down in front, mesmerising all your admirers.
It is said a saree is a woman’s most seductive attire. It covers so much, yet is so sensuous.
The glimpse of a sliver of your waist, the smoothness of your back exposed in the arc of the blouse cut, the way it shows off the curves in your figure; all of it make it a timeless piece of fashion!
And you epitomise it all when you wear one.
As for me, well I wish that just for a few moments I could be that saree; an un-stitched stretch of fabric weaved with love and wrapped around your body, comfortable in your touch while holding you in my arms.
Saree Illustration by Divyasha Thakur. This is my 2nd collaboration with her after Passion. She is a student of Fashion Design and currently pursuing her studies from NIFT, Bhubaneswar.
Divyasha has been an avid lover of art since her early days. It was only during the pandemic she discovered her passion for digital art. The medium and the creativity involved in it, helped soothe her frayed nerves during lockdown which had upended life in umpteen ways.
You can visit her Instagram page @thakurdivyasha to follow some awesome work!
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
He was dreaming. Like most dreams it seemed to be random. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth. Suddenly the bathroom door flung open and as if by magic one of the models from the Tree Top advertisement appeared alongside him.
Tree Top was a fruit drink brand manufactured by one of the leading consumer companies worldwide and it had been launched in India recently. Their advertisement had started appearing on Doordarshan a few weeks ago and somehow one of the models in it had caught Chiku’s attention.
She would probably be only a year or two older than him and he found her to be extremely pretty. He especially loved her sweet smile. The more he got to watch the ad the more he became her fan. Though she appeared only for a few seconds in the ad, it was enough to give a lot of happiness to Chiku!
Now as she stood next to him and lifted her hand to brush her teeth, he noticed what she was wearing. It was a baby pink night suit and comprised of a top and a pair of pyjamas. It seemed to be made of satin as the fabric appeared smooth and shining and rustled softly against her skin. Her hands moved in a brisk to and fro motion and she seemed oblivious to his presence.
However, this time it was not her face and smile which drew Chiku’s attention, but it was a gap in her partially unbuttoned shirt which did. Much to his surprise he could see that the top part of her breasts were visible, as they swelled and curved downwards. Her skin was dusky like the colour of honey in milk and the exposed side seemed to be a part of something more astonishingly beautiful.
Something unseen and unknown.
Chiku stood transfixed at this sight. His hand seemed to stretch out; eager to touch. How would they even feel?
Just at this moment, Chiku woke up with a start and his heart was hammering wildly. He realized it was just about breaking dawn. He had a stiff erection in his pyjamas as he got up and rushed into the bathroom. At that early hour the household was asleep. He sat in the Indian style toilet and that saw his erect penis was already oozing out a light coloured fluid.
It was something he had never seen before. It shocked and surprised him at the same instant. There was an odd sensation about the entire experience. He sat there for a few more moments, his mind in a whirlpool and finally washing his organ, he flushed away the sticky matter and got up.
He once again looked down to cross check the toilet to make sure no signs were present of his ‘deed’.
He went back to bed but sleep eluded him.
Aamir, his father had been transferred in his job from Cuttack to Bhubaneswar a few years ago and had been based in the city since. He and Ruksana had enrolled their only son in a leading school of the city. Chiku had almost completed a decade in the same school and loved it immensely. He was now studying in Grade VIII.
Off late, he had begun to become aware of his adolescent body and the hitherto unexplored areas of the changes that were occurring in him. He had come across a brief section in his Biology textbook which made a list of various systems which function in our bodies. One of them was the Reproductive System and its organs- both male & female- with a note that it would be taken up in detail only the following year.
That disappointed him. He would have liked to read those chapters this year itself and gained some idea of a topic that had piqued his interest.
He wanted to know more about what happened with him that morning and what he had seen – both in the toilet and in his dreams. But he was at a loss on how to find out the details. Asking his parents was out of question. He felt nervous around his father and too embarrassed in front of his mother.
He sat brooding and lost in thought. It had been a new feeling altogether. What was it about the girl that had aroused him in this manner?
Suddenly he realised with a smile where exactly he could go and get more information on the same.
Hello Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Chapter 2 of Chiku's adventures! The story jumps 13-14 years ahead in time; so Chiku is now a teenager.
As mentioned at end of previous chapter that this story will try to capture the essence of those teenage years when we all had some memorable experiences.
The illustration in this chapter by Kishor took some discussion and time. The idea was to capture the innocence of a teenage boy's dream when he becomes aware of a girl's body and tries to visualise it, but without being vulgar.
Hope the effort shows in the result. Look forward as always to your thoughts and comments below!
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
As you know, I am that omnipresent entity that runs across your city, your village and highways.
Though you see me and use me everyday, yet you may never have had the time to pause and listen to my story.
Today there is an opportunity. And ironically these thoughts which I now share with you, are of those times when none of you were on the roads.
As I was alone and unfettered by my duties to carry the weight of your feet and motor tyres, it gave me time to reflect on few aspects of life.
But first, let me say something about myself in the below prose –
Made from asphalt, concrete and covered with melting tar,
I stretch like a ribbon so wide and far!
Black and beautiful, I am your journey's lifeline,
Always there for you, come rain or shine!
So, without further ado let me show you some of my pictures and you can also read my thoughts as you go along 🙂
Frame 1
It is a bright sunny day today!
White fluffy clouds dot the vista. My mind as clear as the blue sky above, stretches its horizons in limitless directions.
I feel ecstatic.
Frame 2
Uh-oh, looks like I spoke too soon! Ashen coloured clouds suddenly appear on the skyline.
Isn’t this like life itself? Bright and clear in one moment; dark and cloudy in the next.
Frame 3
But that is how the changing seasons are a part of life and make it worth living!
Thunder rumbles and the rain drops make tiny splashes on my surface.
It cools me and refreshes my soul.
Frame 4
I look like a river of orange! I think I am in love with the setting sun.
It reflects its glow on me and embraces me in its warmth 🙂
Frame 5
You have put up a barricade at my entrance. Otherwise I know nothing of boundaries. I stretch freely from The Golden Temple in the North to Cheramaan JumaMosque in the South and from Sri Jagannath Temple in the East to Basilica of Bom Jesus in the West.
I lead you to all of them and do not differentiate on the basis of your religion or sect.
Frame 6
Sometimes life does turn upside down.
It could be in the darkness of the night or in the light of the day. Someone we love might pass away!
Yet we must re-set and move on the road of life.
Frame 7
Time brings down the curtains to the day.
Everything now falls silent, as the night engulfs us all and puts us to sleep. Only to awaken another day and face life with renewed vigour and optimism.
This work of fiction written, photographed and conceptualized by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
“Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”
T.S. Eliot
Dear Reader,
Sometimes a road is used as a metaphor for life and there are many thoughts around it. It is said that the journey is more important than the destination.
A road encapsulates all our travels and sometimes it helps us introspect on where we are going and where we would like to go.
Do share your thoughts below on this thoughtful/thinking road!
The call couldn’t have come at a worse time. It was my colleague Ranjan asking for the keys to the office door. How stupid of me to have carried them with me when I left office, I thought to myself.
Exasperated, I smacked my forehead letting out an expletive, alarming my wife who was sitting right across me. “What happened?!”
“I have carried the keys with me when I was supposed to have left them with the security guard at the gate. Now Ranjan is at the office and he has to work the night shift.”
Abhik and Rimi were seated at a swanky Café enjoying a cup of coffee. It was her birthday today and he had just ordered a small cake to celebrate her special day. “Now what?”, she asked with an incredulous expression on her face.
I already knew the answer. I dreaded saying it aloud. I would have to go back all the way to office. There was no other option. For security reasons, few files which could be accessed only while in office, were part of this project and the deadline to submit it was tomorrow.
In fact, Ranjan and me had discussed this already in the morning today. The understanding was since I would be the last to leave work (as was my wont everyday) I would drop the keys with the Security Desk at the entrance to the Office Block. Ranjan after completing his client visit would come, collect it and access work at his convenience.
The office was at least 30-35 minutes away in evening traffic. It would take almost an hour to complete the return trip! With a morose look on my face I started getting up from my chair. I genuinely wanted to spend time with my wife tonight even if it was just the 2 of us celebrating her birthday as an exclusive private affair.
“Wait, I have an idea” interjected Rimi. “Why don’t you call Ranjan and ask him to come half-way? Then at least you could save some time.” Trust women to come up with practical solutions to everyday problems. My mind muddled up due to the long day at work, lit up with this suggestion. “Yes of course. That will indeed help save time!”
I immediately called up Ranjan who picked it up on the 3rd ring. “Dude listen I will drive up to Jaydev Vihar. Can you please come over to the traffic signal there? I can hand over the keys to you.” Jaydev Vihar was only 20 odd minutes from the Café where we were presently sitting. Luckily, Ranjan who was a good sport did not make any fuss about this additional work he would have to undertake. He had his bike handy and agreed to meet me at the designated signal.
2 hours earlier
I was getting late in office. I had promised Rimi that I would be meeting her in The Café to celebrate her birthday with a coffee, cake and dinner before we both head home. It was a newly opened outlet and was located close to her office.
Rimi was always keen to try out new joints which kept popping up in different corners of the city. Be it a fashion store or a dining joint or even a mundane supermarket opening, Rimi had to be there. This exasperated me a few times, but I loved my wife a lot and to please her I would accompany her on most of these ‘LTIO’ (Let’s Try It Out) trips.
On most of these LTIO visits we would rarely purchase anything. Household budgets every month would normally be tight. Yet the fact that she visited a store, explored it and saw what all they had to offer delighted her. It was in this happiness that I found my own.
Rimi’s mood would considerably lighten up and when we reached home the discussions on the various stuff we had seen or purchased could very well carry over onto the next day. We normally had a LTIO trip practically every week.
We had been married 9 years now and next year we would be celebrating a decade of togetherness. How time flies! Like most couples we have had our share of ups and downs but somehow we had stuck together. Our only regret was that we had been unable to start a family.
As a couple we suffered from what the doctor diagnosed as unexplained infertility. Both of us had undergone various tests and declared to be medically fit yet somehow those damned eggs would not get fertilized. We did weigh other options but had not acted on any of those yet, aware that time was running out. It had moved from the middle rungs in our resolution list of previous years, to the top this year.
Children or not, I was genuinely fond of my wife and took extra care to meet her expectations on few of her idiosyncrasies. Celebrating birthdays was also one of them.
Not only was Rimi obsessed with her own birthday but also that of everyone else around her. Even if it was a small get together with a gift or pleasantries exchanged and an evening well spent, it was enough. It need not be a grand affair.
So, when I proposed that just the 2 of us do a LTIO at this new joint and celebrate her birthday, she was more than happy to do it!
Anyways I finally managed to wrap up my work and quickly shut down my system. Rimi had pinged me a couple of times saying she was already seated in the café. I hated to keep anyone waiting. Period.
It gave rise to feelings of anxiety in me. Whether it was a client, my colleague and even more importantly my wife, I simply disliked making another person wait. I valued time and sometimes despite making a best effort I could not stick to my schedule. That really was one of my biggest drawbacks and irritated me no end.
So, it was in this frame of mind that I hurriedly switched off the office AC, lights and closed the door behind me. I took long quick strides, practically cantering to where my bike was and impatiently pulled it out of the parking lot. I almost hit a stationary Scooty parked next to my 2-wheeler and drove off with a sense of urgency gripping my thought process.
Handing over the office key at the Security desk was the last thing on my mind.
Present Moment
Within a couple of hours, I found myself again in a similar position and in a similar state of mind as I raced on my bike towards the meeting point with Ranjan. Traffic had worsened compared to an hour earlier as an unseasonal drizzle had bought chaos on the roads.
Vehicles slowed down considerably and yet everyone seemed to be in a hurry to reach their destinations.
I negotiated the traffic with a mix of impatience and hurling the choicest of expletives under my breath, at my fellow commuters. Whenever you are in a hurry to reach somewhere, time seems to stretch interminably. So, after what seemed to be an unending drive (when in fact it was just 20 minutes since I started from the café) I managed to reach the Jaydev Vihar crossing. I quickly scanned the area hoping to see Ranjan parked somewhere.
But he was not to be seen.
For a moment I was tempted to dial him but knew my friend would be driving in this same dense traffic as well. I had no choice but to show restraint and wait.
After what seemed to be an eternity, I could finally see a rain-soaked figure driving over cautiously to where I stood. The rain had increased in intensity and under the cover of the raincoat and with a helmet on, it took a few seconds for me to recognise him.
“Man, you owe me a drink for making me come out in this rain. I should have been seated snugly now, sipping a hot cup of tea at my desk. You on a special date with Rimi?”.
If that smirk was accompanied with a wink, I would not have been able to see it in the darkness. “Sorry dude. But thanks a million for coming over half-way. I have to rush back as she is waiting at the café.”
“Ok carry on,” saying this Ranjan took the keys and headed back to office.
Chapter 2– Conclusion
Now that the key was handed over, I felt a bit relieved. At least the part of my responsibility towards work was over. Now it was the turn of my personal life. I had to go back to where my dear wife was waiting with her birthday cake.
I knew I had to hurry.
A sense of regret had started creeping in my mind, that if only I had remembered to stop briefly and dropped the keys while leaving office, things would not have come to this urgency.
Though Rimi was a good sport and showed patience unlike some other women I knew, I could not test her any further. I drove a bit recklessly realizing I may have to break a couple of rules in order to cut time short.
Just one more traffic junction to go before the Café and I would soon re-join her!
That thought galvanised me and I was now just 50 meters away from the signal. I saw it was already green and maybe it had been so since the past few seconds. I revved up the accelerator and hoped it stayed open for some more time. It was a busy square shaped junction and If I could beat this, I could easily save at least 2-3 minutes until the signal would complete its clockwise round and come back to green again.
Just before I reached the crossing, the signal turned amber and I knew I would have to take a risk and break it. It was red as I crossed it realizing other commuters on my left, where the signal had turned green had already begun to move.
At first, I did not pay attention to the big, dark object driving towards me from my left. Frankly I did not even see it, as I was only focussed on surging ahead. It was only when it was just a couple of feet away, that a feeling of surprise and shock gripped my heart. The vehicle was moving towards me and moving fast.
When I was almost half-way through the junction, I felt the first impact of the collision.
It sent my bike skidding on the wet, slippery road dragging me underneath it. The front tyres of the SUV made a loud, sickening sound as metal crashed against metal. It ran over my upper torso and for a split second I could feel the air being squeezed out of my body as if a giant beast had sat upon me. The rear tyres of the vehicle crushed my legs and I could feel excruciating pain shoot up throughout my body.
As flowing blood met flowing rainwater, all the noises around me went eerily hollow. It was as if I was being carried away to a faraway land. The final image that crossed my mind was that of my beloved wife sitting alone at the café with her birthday cake waiting for me to arrive.
Then blackness enveloped me completely.
………………………………………
The man walked with a slight limp as he made his way into the café, skirting around the tables filled with raucous laughter and the gay evening mood.
Rimi saw him only when he was a few feet away from her table, busy as she was fiddling with her mobile phone.
He seemed to have moved in silently almost invisible to others.
His face looked pale and he seemed to be walking, as if in a trance.
“Oh, so you are back finally! I have been waiting to cut this cake,” said Rimi.
He merely nodded and smiled. He clapped both his hands softly as she blew the single candle and sliced the knife deep into her birthday cake.
She offered him a bite to eat and then had rest of the slice herself. She noticed he was standing quietly, still holding his piece of the cake.
By now, the family seated next to their table, were looking curiously in her direction.
Somehow a strange feeling of unease gripped her heart and she was not sure why.
It was only when she hugged him in a loving embrace, did she realize that she was wrapping herself around thin air.
She swooned once before she crashed onto the floor unconscious.
The End
This story is not complete without the mention of Ritwicka Banerjee, an awesomely, talented artist! Her painting done in acrylic and oil has been created specifically for my story and gives it a visual imagery.
phantasmicart (her Insta Id) -your creativity is amazing! Thank you so much 🙂
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
Dear Reader,
When we are on the roads, we must remember to be careful and drive safe.
For there is always someone, somewhere waiting for us, looking forward to our return.
Do share your thoughts and comments below on the story. I look forward to hearing from you!
They stretch lazily from the tip of your toes, through the angle of the ankle, caressing your legs gently all the way up to your knees and ending somewhere beyond where the mind’s eye is loath to wander.
Their black colour is the colour of night. They lovingly wrap around the white glow of your skin, as if distilled moonlight has been enclosed by the night sky.
They were just an opaque pair of stockings in the shop where you purchased them from. To be worn by any random shopper.
However on you they take on a different form. As if alive!
They glide across your legs without a wrinkle like second skin until they stretch languidly and disappear under the edges of the short black skirt you are wearing.
At the other end, the stockings dip and end inside the pointed high heeled shoes you wear. Needless to say they too are black in colour completing the head to toe coal black look.
It is bewitching.
Silk of fabric meets silk of skin and together they create a sensuous effect. You cross your legs and sit alone on a bench striking an elegant pose.
You look gorgeous!
In my mind, I have already walked a thousand miles and stop to soak in this mesmerising sight. I sit down on the bench next to you and look into those beautiful eyes which reflect the image of the person who loves you intensely.
I end up kissing your lips to start a flame,
As if a black magic spell has been cast in my name!
An awesome attire can change the entire game,
For igniting my crazy feelings - your black stockings are to blame!
‘The Black Stockings’ Illustration by ishanixart.
(Main Insta – whozzishani) A talented NIFTian. Thank you so much Ishani 🙂
This work of fiction, written by Wasim Jawaid is the author’s sole intellectual property. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.For permission requests, send an email to the author wasim.jawaid@gmail.com
That Odia Boy 