I wanted to scream at those with the probing stares. “Stop calling me a loser! The way I live life is my choice.” But I stop short, fearing being labelled a psychopath.

she had shed her old skin that was raw and she has transformed into a person so different from the general. She was bold, well learned, and a phoenix that grew out of ashes.

Are you a virgin by any chance?” he asked me once.“Do I look like a bottle of olive oil by any chance, Raghu?” I countered and chuckled.

Virginity – the worst word mankind had ever created! I have a mix of friends, a few who think virginity is divinity, and a few who think it is a lack of opportunities. A few say that it is a matter of choice and they chose to have pleasure. A few others think it is important to wait so that a relationship feels fulfilled.

Every word she uttered set fire in me, and I was falling for her. I started wanting her, and I didn’t know what kind of sign it was. She was a secret covered with skin, and her eyes were flitting to and from my heart. She was the enigma whose beauty lay in the mystery, the one you would rather leave unsolved.

She was indeed the literature I thought she would be, on par with excellence and not-so-readable.

My loneliness is a choice, not a situation.

Life presents twists and turns, and there comes a pointwhere you have no clue if you should turn left or right. It ispure luck or fate, and of course, let’s not forget the only onewho takes the blame, God! God wants this to happen, it’s allGod’s plan to direct you to something better.

Women are not the weaker sex, even after experiencingsuch pain, they still have the capacity to get up and walk,regardless of how long it would take. Men on the contrary,though they look a lot stronger, wiser, and meaner and ofcourse, masculine, are not really strong enough when it comesto their children, especially a daughter. No matter what shedoes, no matter how rude or soft she is, the daughter wouldcome first, then the rest of the world.

Lying there, feeling safe in his tight embrace, a tear escaped my resolute eye and darkened his purple shirt. I usually do not cry when I am afraid, but invariably did when I felt safe and cocooned, like I felt in the confines of his strong, sure arms.