This mother’s day, let’s tell the tales of fierce mothers, whose love blossomed and gave them courage to fight what was wrong.


Walking down the stairs, everybody could see her bump.
Even though she covered herself in every possible clothing, she could feel the stares.
Still, she walked, as if she committed a crime. As if she was a guilty one. But what was her mistake, that she was going to give birth to a beautiful child. An innocent angel.

With every step she took in the corridor, the whispers’ amplified.
Those harsh names landed on her ear, ‘whore’, ‘slut’, ‘stupid’, ‘impure’.
Some gave her those cheap offers, “Wanna have it with me?” “You are no good!”.

Listening all those, she couldn’t bear it. She ran, as far as she could, running down, locking herself in the washroom.
She cried and cried till her eyes got dried.
But she knew, it was all a struggle. And whatever she was bearing she couldn’t let her child bear the same. The baby was her blood, her own and she was her protector, from every harm of the world.




My heart was swinging to and fro with the waves of affection.
There was a rise and fall of my little yacht in the stormy ocean.
There was no escape and even if there was,
I didn’t want to exit the newly discovered world.
I could feel the sense of belonging as he leaned in and imprinted on my shoulder.
This one time in my life I knew it wasn’t just a spark but an explosion of emotions.
His hands embraced my neck and he moved forward to land small peck.
His hands moved towards my breasts as I moaned with a low voice in excitement.
He came slowly towards my lips and dissolved himself within me.
As my lips a part, I could realise the sudden jitters and rush in my body.
I was on fire, I realised.
His tongue slid inside my mouth and we reached the end together.
I knew there was more to this.
There was another stage even after the climax.