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Head that wears the crown

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  It’s funny how, over the years, I’ve moved through a handful of bosses probably five or six by now and, if I’m being honest, I never really liked any of them. I mean, who does, right? But recently, the disdain I’ve held for them has slowly shifted to something more like pity. Maybe it’s just a natural shift that happens as you gain experience, or maybe it’s the result of certain events. Either way, it’s been on my mind lately. For as long as I can remember, the go-to office pastime has always been “bashing the boss.” You know, that whole ritual of gossiping about their quirks, criticizing their decisions, or poking fun at their management style. And in a way, it’s a bonding activity for colleagues a way to release stress and feel like we’re all in the same boat. But recently, an old Gujarati saying has been sticking with me: “ પીપળ પાન ખરતાં હસતી કુંપળીયાં , મુજ વીતી તુ જ વીતશે , ધીરી બાપુડીયાં …” (Translation: As the old leaves of the peepal tree fall, the younger ...
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Generosity the Outcasts

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 In the two years since moving to the village, Meena and her husband had settled well into their new life. Their village lay far away from the city, peaceful but isolated. They were now blessed with a baby girl and their little family finally felt complete. Those were the times when maternity leave lasted only three months. To care for her baby while she returned to work, Meena had arranged for a young woman named Rani from a nearby village. She paid Rani in advance and even gave her some food and clothes. Meena didn’t own a mobile phone, so there was no way for her to check on the baby while she was away. Barely fifteen minutes after Meena’s departure, the baby fell into a deep sleep. Rani, bored and restless, decided to take a walk in the fields. Soon, she too dozed off under a tree. A few minutes later, the baby woke up crying loudly. Just then, Baijo happened to be passing by. Through her hazy, drunken state, she noticed the closed door and heard the baby’s cries. Seeing no...
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In search of the "real" Calling

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  Something I Once Gave Up But Keep Returning To I was fortunate to be surrounded by people with extraordinary talent. Almost everyone in my friend circle was deeply engaged in something — there were painters, dancers, football players, chess enthusiasts — all pursuing their interests alongside academics. Looking back, I realize how much the company I kept shaped who I am today. But at the time, I often felt intimidated. Everyone around me seemed to know exactly what they cared about, what they wanted to master. And there I was, wondering what my own thing was. While they were out there honing their skills, I was usually at home, reading for hours and delighting in discovering two new words a day — collecting words was my quiet obsession. Or I’d be on my computer, completely absorbed in Age of Empires . Even now, I still crave the thrill of that game; it never really left me. Over the years, I kept putting my books aside in search of a “real” calling. I joined music classe...
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Unexpected Teacher

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I spent the first half of the day crying and cribbing about my canceled vacation, recounting my woes to anyone who would listen. The second half, I sat sulking by the window, staring out at a life that felt unfairly on pause. Suddenly, my niece appeared beside me. "But Chachi, I don't understand," she said, tilting her head. "Why didn’t you just go to your mayka ?" I straightened up. "To teach your Chachu a lesson, of course," I replied quickly, trying to sound firm. "He needs to know how upset I am. I haven’t even left the house!" She didn’t move. She just looked at me and said, "But I still don’t understand how Chachu is suffering. You’re the one whose vacation got canceled, and you’re the one sulking all day instead of visiting your parents. And from his WhatsApp status, Chachu seems to be having the time of his life." I didn’t want to hear it. "You don’t understand, beta ," I said quickly. "I don’t want to fo...
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Failure turnes into opportunities

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With a heavy heart, Roshini handed over her letter of resignation. It felt less like a professional document and more like locking herself back into a golden cage—although one with two beautiful children. To the outside world, Roshini was living every girl's dream: married to her long-time love, two kids, and wealthy in-laws. Even for Roshini, this was all she had ever consciously wanted. The one thing that truly bothered her was a condition she had agreed to years ago: she was not allowed to work. She had soon realized she couldn't just be a stay-at-home mom; she had ambitions of her own. After years of struggle, the family had finally agreed to let her work, but only on the condition that the children would not suffer. Though the pay was peanuts for her qualification, she secured a job only five minutes from her house. She even found "Kidzine," a new center that offered educational and extracurricular activities under a single roof, just two minutes from her workpla...
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A curse Called "Strong"

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  It’s More Like a Curse Than a Boon My fellow friends used to tell me, “You are so strong — you will survive and help us escape extinction.” Strong? So that I could witness all my loved ones fall, one by one? We had such a close-knit family. For years, we had lived in harmony with the animals, helping each other survive. I still remember the day they arrived — the humans. A new kind of fear spread among us. We had heard stories of the other jungles they destroyed.  The elders — I still don’t know whether to call them foolish or simply hopeful — believed the humans might have learned something after destroying the rest of the planet. After all, they were the only ones left of their kind. Even with our heads burning, we offered them shelter, just as we did for every other creature. They even hugged many of us on the day they arrived. For a brief moment, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe the elders were right. Maybe we could live together. Maybe, together, we could find a cu...
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Fluffy — The Silent Witness of My Growing Up

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  I have never been very fond of teddy bears like the other girls in my class. I never even asked my parents to get me one. I think I got it on my birthday when I was in 11th grade. Even though I was not a fan of teddy bears, it was gifted to me by my only best friend at the time. I decided to name it “Fluffy.” I remember being an extremely sensitive girl in high school. My mother not tying my braid for school would break my heart. I was often clueless about most things in my life then, and my only support system was my best friend. I would confide in them about all my trivial and non-trivial matters. I kept the teddy bear on top of the cupboard, still wrapped in the plastic. It was the first thing I saw when I woke up and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. Even though I never talked to it or anything, it was the only thing in the world that had seen my most vulnerable side—probably even more than my best friend. I remember taking it to my hostel room. There, too, it wa...
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