Shreema, Rhea, and Darpan work for the same Publication House in similar roles. Shreema, in addition, is a published poet, and writer. Rhea specializes in writing snippets, whereas Darpan, a typical grihasta (householder), focuses on finishing his work for the day, as soon as possible, and rushing home. The salary that he receives at the end of the month and the annual appraisals are all that matter to him.

Workplace woes

Darpan: Shreema, a registered post has just arrived from the Office of the Governor, forwarded by the Secretary to the Chief Minister.

Shreema: What's wrong with them Now?

Darpan: They want that our Publication House write a 6-8 page article, preferably with relevant pictures, for their special "Commemorative Issue" to be released in March-April.

Shreema: What are they commemorating?

Darpan: They aren't sure either...It could be either the 3rd anniversary of those 4 who were hanged on 20th March, 2020, or the 3rd anniversary of the "Banging of Utensils day" i.e. 26th March, 2020 between 5:00 &5:10 PM IST. They aren't sure.

Shreema: They never are...But, that's okay...At least they are "commemorating" something.

Darpan: Frankly, it doesn't matter to me what it is that they're doing, so long as there's work coming in. I have a family to feed.

Shreema: Family? She laughed. "That's your wife who doesn't eat, and yourself," said Shreema.

Darpan (serious): My parents depend on me as well.

Shreema: Of course, they do.

There was a pin-drop silence in the room. 

Darpan was hyperventilating again; his anxiety attacks were of insidious onset, lately. "Rhea," shrieked Shreema.

Darpan had his one hand outstretched, as if trying to reach out for something. "Is he asking for his inhaler?" shouted Shreema.

Rhea (unaware of what had transpired in her absence): He's acting. She picked up a glass full of water and splashed it on Darpan's face.

Surprisingly, Darpan calmed down.

Shreema (out of curiosity): Is this how one controls an Anxiety attack?

Rhea (surprised): Was that an Anxiety attack?

Shreema (suddenly serious): What did you think it was?

Rhea (confused): Darpan acting out, as usual.

Marriage interview over a Cup of Cappuccino

Deepak: Is this you!?

Shreema: These are toads...Hey...Just a minute...Show me that picture.,

Deepak puts his mobile phone on the coffee table, perpendicular to an imaginary line (parallel to, and at the level of the coffee-table), joining their centers of gravity.

"Look," he says.

Shreema: These are toads...But, this picture was taken by me...I have proof...In fact I can lead you to the "Exact location" where this picture was taken.

Deepak: In that case, It's You.

Dr. Parul Prakash Salunke, M.D.

Meeting "Inauspicious Auntie" before the Marriage-interview

Rhea was checking her daily email box while waiting for Rishab to arrive. They had decided to meet for a barbecue lunch.

Suddenly, Rhea began to sob. A slightly elderly, middle aged man stopped by, and asked her if everything was okay.

She gestured to him that she was well. The concerned man walked away.

Rhea began to sob again. This time an elderly woman came wobbling by, accompanied by a younger man, who probably was her son.

"Amma, why are you crying?" asked the woman.

Her tears had suddenly vanished, and Rhea was her calm &composed self again. She looked around.

"Are you speaking with me?" she asked the woman.

"Yes," replied the Lady.

"Why are you calling me Amma?" asked Rhea.

"B'coz in our culture, we call unmarried young women Amma, and we encourage our children to call them Auntie. 

Likewise, we call unmarried bachelors Appa, and we encourage our children to call them Uncle," replied the petite woman.

"In that case, please keep your culture to yourself," insisted Rhea, "b'coz the part of India that I come from, we have a more progressive mentality &mindset. We don't go around calling girls, or for that matter, even married women: Amma. It's considered a slur."

This time the responsibly behaving man standing next to her, tried to nudge his mother away. "Amma, let's go," he said.

The woman, however, persisted.

She made one more attempt to talk with Rhea.

"Leave," barked Rhea, "else, I shall call the police."

"But, why will you call the police?" asked the woman, innocuously, "I'm not trespassing on private property."

"But, you're being racist."

"How am I being racist?"

"That you ask of your son who works as a Manager at the Walmart store across the block," said Rhea.

.    .    .