It was true that she liked worthless trinkets, but she could never wear 100 pounds of solid gold and live to tell the tale. If the weight did not kill her, the embarrassment would.

I initially got along very well with K Paati. I still remember those three years filled with evenings of hot coffee and reminiscence of her bygone golden days when Thatha was alive and her 50 and 60 something pushing kids were literally kids. Like dealing with this big change on the personal front wasn’t enough, I also had to settle into my new job and soon I heard whispers about getting me married when I was 23.

Shame, like failure, had two faces. She had been ashamed of her son. But she was also ashamed of herself. She despised her inability to come to terms with his dreams. She loathed her inability to stand up for him. But much as she hated herself, she could not bring herself to talk of him causally.

She knew she had failed whenever she heard Pratap’s name mentioned. She knew it when women talked of proposals. She saw it in her husband’s quiet consternation. But none of these would have scared her had she never seen it her son’s eyes. In his quiet way, Mahesh had let her know that she had failed him.

For the past 2 minutes I have been experiencing this excruciating pain in my throat. I am not even sick. Healthy at 27… bit stout… my husband calls me “kathirikkaai[brinjal]” instead of “Poorni”.
Ah… pain is getting worse…Where is my 4 year old son Raju? He could call someone for help. Oh! I saw him [...]

Footsteps echoing through the rooms devoid of the sound of human voices, computers booting late into the night, the pungent smell of alcohol in parties, cigarette butts still warm in the ashtrays, the aroma of cologne in the bath, wardrobes with silk ties and golden cuffs, the smell of new furniture, the sound of new tyres screeching on the driveway – this was Akshay’s world. And Shalini fit into the scheme of things like icing on the cake – she was the beautiful wife he was envied for; the diva every man hoped he had.

At 5:45 on a Monday evening, as she watched her five-year old son swim under his instructor’s critical gaze, it came to Kaavya that everything about her was mediocre – she was a mediocre home maker, living a mediocre life, in a mediocre suburb in America.

Your husband may not come home on time everyday. He may be slightly drunk or completely unconscious- with a reason always. You look at him and feel like life is failing you. You blame yourself and your inadequacy to look the way you did on your first day in this house, a blushing bride of 23. The whole world smiled at you, praising your porcelain skin and demure presence. Now age that you left behind has followed you like a faithful dog and caught up with you. You feel depressed, without a clue about what to do.

The following has been inspired by the true story of Caster Semenya, a South African middle-distance runner and world champion. Semenya won gold in the 800 meters at the 2009 World Championships in Athletics with a time of 1:55.45 in the final. Following her victory at the 2009 World Championships, questions about Semenya’s gender were raised.

The Writer starts at the voice. He did not sense the woman’s approach. Yet, there she is. Standing so close! Her long black hair cascades down to her hips. Her skin is dusky and aglow with the rich sheen of youthful health. She is of slight build; her lean form wrapped in a rich red saree. She is bare of jewelry except for the diamonds in her ears and – of course- anklets at her feet.