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As you sleep, curled into your side, a blanket raised right up to your shoulder, something moves in the darkness. You don’t sense anything in the beginning, asleep as you are. Confident that a closed door will protect you from events that may mean you harm.
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You came into our life on a bright afternoon when we were 13 because we were being hooligans and they couldn’t find another substitute teacher. You didn’t scold us though. Just set up an assignment for us to do and for the rest of the thirty minutes, we were quiet, in awe of you.
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If there is one thing that the A-team of Blogchatter loves doing – whether in the middle of the day or during the Wednesday Twitter chats and sometimes later in the evening – it is to share our deepest secrets around books, authors and writing.
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I’m not in the habit of making lemonade when life gives me lemons. Because my first reaction to an adversity is plain denial with the fervent hope that if I don’t see it, it won’t see me. The time period between me realizing that the problem is real may have reduced with age, but my…
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Telling someone I’m a writer has always gotten me a mix bag of responses. Some people look at me with envy. Some look at me with pity. Sometimes people will talk about how much the idea of writing scares them. Many times, I will hear a variation of: I have this amazing story – why…
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Little bird, little birdHush, don’t make faces nowDo you want your face to be stuck in that mask?
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I have a younger sibling. Which means no matter what I do, or where I am in life, I will always have this one person who will smother me with her love one moment, accuse me of cramping her style in the next moment and cry tears of anguish the third moment because I’m not…
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tales of Suchita 