Scarlet Writes

Almost a year ago, I survived a life threatening medical emergency. Let me just put it out straight. I had an ectopic pregnancy rupture and by the time I checked into the hospital, it was already too late.  So this was last December. Argentina was playing the world cup semi-final that night. I had a lower abdomen pain since 3 in the afternoon with slight spotting and I clearly ignored the symptoms. I went to see a gynaecologist after school who casually remarked that it could have happened because I had taken a pill. She advised me to get an ultrasound done but this wasn't my regular gynaecologist so I wasn't keen on doing an USG and thought that I could wait for one more day until my GYNAEC came back. So I again ignored the symptoms and went home to take some rest. I was a bit alarmed when the pain didn't subside even after I took a painkiller. It was only around 10 at night when I finally decided to go to the hospital again. Just to be 'on a safe side'. 🙄 Even wh...

My name is Kamala. My father named me after the flowers he'd grown in our terrace, in an aluminum bowl that my mother used for washing clothes. Kamala grows in mud water, usually pond water but my father, who loved plants and gardening, grew Kamala in our terrace. He took pride in every petal that unfolded and he loved to show it off to our guests. He was proud of the Kamala he grew in a bowl but never so of the child, his own. So when I returned home from literacy classes one day when I was 7 years old, he told me that I never needed to go back to study. I cried, refused to eat for days, begged and pleaded to my mother to talk to my father to send me back to class. They didn't budge. I was 12 years old when I was married off to a 16 year old boy who lived in our neighborhood. My husband ran a small shop in Patan. He sold threads and buttons and scissors.  I gave birth to my first child at home, a daughter, when I was 14 years old. I lost three of my children to unknown disease...

The Magical Door It was Monday. I had set an alarm for 6:30a.m. but I only woke up at 7:15a.m. after snoozing the alarm clock thrice. The small, narrow window in my one bedroom apartment hardly let any sunlight in, thanks to the massive gurudwara right in front of the only window in my apartment. On weekends, I’d always draw the curtains close and sleep in until late in the morning. The room would always be dark and the gulli that I lived in was also very quiet and far from the hustle-bustle of the main chowk.  I woke up and checked my phone to see what time it was and hurried off to the toilet to get ready for the day. I lived in an old building and the apartment I shared with my best friend was converted from a terrace into a shabby living space by the miser landlord and rented out to young, miserable college girls like me who had no source of income and survived on petty pocket money sent by our parents. The place was livable in a sense that it protected us from the rain and ani...

It was 7p.m. when she reached home. She unlocked the door to her apartment and hung the key on the keyholder above the shoe rack. She carefully put her shoes in the bottom shelf of the rack and took out her indoor slippers from the top. She put her handbag on top of the coffee table and went to the kitchen. She washed her hands before she put a cup of water to boil on the stove. She added a spoon of tea leaves. She opened the door to the verandah and went out to pick some mint leaves from the flower pot. She rinsed the leaves and put it into the water boiling on the stove. She poured the tea into a mug and carried it to the living room. She lay a tea coaster on the table and put the mug on top of it. She unbuttoned her pants and unclipped her bra and sighed as she sat down on the couch. She looked around and closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the taste of mint in her mouth and silence surrounding her. This was a rare moment for her.  Usually, she picked up her son from his schoo...