Oh, he is just normal teenager, experimenting He’s just rebelling, he will settle down soon He is a good kid, his company’s bad Its just a little pot and alcohol Then the cops called, he’d killed and stolen to feed his habit. In panic they rushed to help him, but it was too late.

The cell phone rang, the number flashing was just the one to avoid. The doorbell rang, he peered through the peephole, and withdrew. He signaled to his wife to say that he wasn’t at home and ran into the loo. Every day he played a cat and mouse game, he hated them, damn recovery agents.

1. To wear what I want 2. To go visit my parents without permission 3. To have my own friends 4. Make choices about eating and sleep timing 5. Have rights on my own body 7. Have a say on financial matters 6. Guilt free shopping 7. Have hobbies 8. In short, To Be Myself

She was marrying his childhood buddy. He felt abandoned and angry. He made them a perfect gift. He built a box with cardboard and glue, neat compartments; one large one for the brinjal and four small for the onion, tomato, green chilli and coriander. They were making bharta of their life – so why not?

Ignoring her, they gathered in a corner sipping their chai, envy making them bond in bitchiness. Desperately they hunted for flaws in her life. Why did she have everything, rich husband, young lover, and perfect kids? How did she manage to remain slim and wrinkle free? How dare she highlight their flaws by showing up?

He was forty and successful and powerful.  She, his mistress, was 21, mother of twins and abandoned.  For her he was a meal ticket, for him she was lust and rewards of success. Thirty years later, he’s old, lonely cocooned in wealth, she loves him, but loves her family more – its young and lively