Forehead tinged with vermilion.


Random picture from google, thank you.

I don’t wrestle with the hue of colors signifying many things but I always wanted to be dressed in RED in my wedding. Any girl wants to look good while accepting a man as a spouse for the remaining duration of life. So did I.

Beauticians and hairdressers were called to deck me up, manicure, pedicure and facials were done. Hair adorably adjusted and I like a mannequin added with fineries was gaping at the reflection on the mirror against me. I was nervously acquainted with a confused timeliness of oxygen and carbonic acid; I was inhaling from the aperture between my jaws and upper lips and exhaling from my olfactory organ.

Everyone was waiting for the barat or the groom’s team to arrive and when a loud sudden music was heard in a dozen of vehicles I turned unconscious, like I inhaled a kerchief damped in chloroform.

Before I was decked up, I was thinking about the step I chose, will I be happy with him? I questioned myself, I dint know how to move on when I still loved Varun. I often thought what Varun’s version would be about the wreckage of our relationship. I wondered if he still loved me, wondered if he knows about my engagement with a random man.

Times I thought about him, my heart used to get heavy, and when I thought about him, I also used to think about how aloof he left me and that’s how I used to feel that I should move on rather than thinking about a betrayer.

I opened my eye in an ATM booth, lying horizontally in a red sari, I was confused, unable to understand when and what had actually happened. I suddenly heard the sounds of a gun, firing in all possible directions. There were around 14 masqueraded mobs outside and I was already in a state of panic anxiety attack.

I was crying helplessly, expecting someone to rescue me.

But at home, the rituals were ready and the bride was being called to complete the knot tying ritual but no one there thought that the bride’s state of affair was like encountering the wrath of a mob.

‘She is inside the booth’ said a voice from the mob.

The masqueraded man carrying a gun dialed a number from his mobile and set it in his speaker. He slowly approached towards me.

He pushed the jammed door in an effort to open it and as he pushed it inside the voice from the receiver turned audible, ‘Hello?’

Hello! What next?
She is inside the ATM, crying helplessly.

I couldn’t figure whom he was talking to but the unidentified speaker just spewed, ‘kill her!’

No, No, No, what have I done? Why do you want to kill me? I said

The masqueraded man fixed his gun, ready to pull his trigger. I was still pleading for my life.

Listen, wait! What do you want? Why do you want to kill me? Tell me? I’ll give you double of the money. But tell me, please! I begged.

Suddenly the jammed door was violently pushed.

Varun? I exclaimed.

He ran and jumped on top of me.

Boom* he took my bullet which hit behind his heart, he bled…

Sirens blew and the mobs were gone, it was a three minutes-episode and Varun was lying dead in my arms, when I was decked as a bride.

Cops flooded in the ATM booth and started with the investigation….

To be continued…
stay tuned!

Varinka Turquoise.



Where do we stand??

Is that what we deserve?

We are still been treated as inferiors

Can anyone hear us?

When it comes to the rights of women,

Everyone is dumb.

The so called government boasts around-

Babbling about the reservations they’ve included

But who can understand the arduous sacrifices-

Which they’ve (we’ve) been making, since time immemorial?

We still can’t walk aloof during and after twilight

Uncouth hooting, whistling and comments are passed from behind

And when we try to reminiscence the society we belong to-

It’s disastrous!

Honor bright-

Instead of teaching man not to rape-

Women’s are warned not to get raped

Are we too fragile?

Why can’t we be equalized?

Where do we stand?

We need to think and act wise-

Before the world turns up side down,

Or side-ward up.

A social gathering in a spot

Is a spot where women get groped

Or raped within the eye of a beholder-

Dresses, they comment.

Aren’t women raped when they cover themselves in a sari?

Or cover their unseen cleavages with a dupatta?

How greedy seems their stares?

How uncouth their desires-

How pornographic their thoughts.

And how pathetic are their nurtures?

World! world! where are we?

Tag a new location so that we could be safe.