PARINAAMA

Hello all!  Thank you very much for your patient wait. Here comes part two.  (Part one in a nutshell: Two (apparently) thick friends, Ann Tah and Jin-Ah had a feud when the former ditched the latter for a guy. The latter felt that this friend is no different from people who stab others in the back casually. If you want to know more, feel free to read the first part here .) ..."And that's why I cut contact with you." said Ann Tah. Jin-Ah's mind snapped in an instant. All she could now feel was pain. Pain in her heart.  Pain in her head.  Pain in her what not. "Please give me time." was all Jin-Ah could tell. She had initially planned for some crazy time in the city with Ann Tah but ended crazy with her heart in pieces.  The next one hour was silent. Silence as of a funeral. Jin-Ah was never this silent of the days she had lived.   It was time to settle down to rectify either what went wrong in the relationship or to let go of the friendship.  Jin-Ah wanted to

Annyeonghaseyo! Konnichiwa! Nihao!  I am Niveditha (AKA Robot!), guest-writing for this month. I am an extroverted person but an introverted poet and a storyteller (And an insane graphic designer). Good friends are the grandest gifts time could ever offer.  I often tell my dad that I envy him for having friends who stood by him through thick and thin for decades and still do so. In life, the journey in your youth is in a way such that you grow and mature. When you grow old, you reminisce about your youth and laugh.  This made me think about the efforts him and his friends made for the long run. I wondered how a thick friendship is formed through trials and testing times, which led me to this tale.  Read my story*  *This story is purely fictional  The mornings of school days were chaotically aligned with the discipline staff asking students to queue up.  It was the first week of classes.  A short girl with curly hair and a sweet voice approached Jin-Ah.  "Hello! You're the clas

Level 21 in Lockdown Hello my lovely readers! I took a pleasant break from blogging to focus a lot on my inner world and lets just say it was worth every bit of the hiatus.  I feel a lot more fresh, inspired, energized and enlightened and we at Parinaama are going to serve your mind, body and soul with the nuggets of wisdom we know you'll appreciate.  Cricket lovers will understand the title of today's post (I maayyyyy have been a tad bit influenced by my effervescent cricket mad editor) and for me personally, the number 21 is quite significant. 2+1 adds up to 3 (my absolute favourite number) 21 is the day of the month I was born 20 overs are all there is in T20 cricket BUT its the 21st over (the super over) that becomes the turning point of a nail biting match that ended in a tie. And strangely, that's how I feel about my life so far. The first 10 years - lost in oblivion. I barely developed proper social skills since I was labelled "shy" and I stuck to that labe

There is no choice without a consequence Hellew lovely readers! Been a while, hasn't it! I hope you are safe, sound and searching for your soul because 2021 doesn't seem to be going away in a hurry any time soon - hence now is the best time to choose to look within and discover/create yourself.  This choice certainly has its consequences : Empowerment. Energetic Alignment. Soulful Satisfaction. Before these sweet consequences come into the picture, you’ll have to face the not so pretty consequence of discomfort, venturing into the unknown, questioning yourself and your life choices up till now, critically evaluating who you are as a person, when previously you might have not even given a thought about this other than superficial SWOT analyses where you might have done a shallow level of self inspection. I can speak from experience that these seemingly uncomfortable consequences are worth it because in the process of facing them head on, you learn who you truly are and who your

He was born with a mirror held in his hand peeping inside it he saw the most beautiful baby in the land The baby was cared for by a widower a man lacking joy a heart filled with sorrow eyes yearning to cry The man was scared to view his image To see his own face in his mirror for he had been molded into a mirage of should's, should-nots, fears & shivers This man saw the baby everyday enjoying its face in its mirror laughing and smiling curiously admiring  its own pretty reflection A yearning so deep to be like the happy baby stirred the man into a fit the yearning turned to anger anger to hatred because to him, this felt unfair He tore the mirror from its hands smashing it onto the floor bits and pieces flew away alas, it couldn't be restored the baby was shocked the baby squirmed the baby began to cry wailing and wallowing in a language inexpressible begging to see itself one last time the man felt scared at the baby's wails and wanted to suppress it soon So he showed

This is the sixth and final part of this 6 part fictional story series. Everything in this story is purely imaginary with inspirations from real life. Any resemblance to any person or occasion in real life is completely coincidental. 6. New Beginnings With trembling fingers, she opened the message. It was a simple ' hey '. Visibly trembling all over, Miraa hesitantly replied, 'hi Vineeth 😅', hoping that the sweating emoji conveyed her anxiety. The response was immediate. 'Wanna call you to tell something. When can I call?' If Miraa could have run away from the face of the earth, she would have. Unfortunately not having that option, eager to respond yet fearful of what she might hear, she consoled herself by thinking that the worst thing Vineeth could probably say was that he never wanted to speak to her again and to keep things formal between them henceforth. Not being much comforted by this thought but finding no other way, Miraa replied 'Sure, you can cal

This is the fourth part in a 6 part fictional story series. Everything in this story is purely imaginary with inspirations from real life. Any resemblance to any person or occasion in real life is completely coincidental. 4. Histories Miraa reeled under her realisations, being too overwhelming to bear. Had she not learnt anything from the behaviour of her abusive father? How had she landed up again in the lap of someone so eerily similar to him? What had happened to her promises to herself that she would never allow anyone to treat her as her father had once done? As her father had once done .....those thoughts took her far back, to her childhood. Miraa's childhood seemed nothing short of normal to the outside observer. She had parents who gave her her basic needs, who let her participate in any event she wanted to and money was definitely of no shortage at her house. Yet there was no home.  Her father and mother never seemed to get along and were forever bickering and snickering a