If you belong to the female species of human being with lactose producing breast and female specific genetic organ which makes you sit and pee then your are not safe in your house, not on the streets, not in school , not in locked car, not in damn cursed country, trust me.  Women are still considered as puppet with whom they can play as they please and flower which they can pluck anytime they want.  Its time we make wise choices and replace lipstick, eye liner, compact with Pepper Spray, Knife and Taser gun.

While the man continues to prove his ugly manhood by forcing women for his physical lust, our old fashioned lady justice wishes to hold the scale of justice with blind folded, politicians try to play their dirty politics without shame, police register a FIR take a deep puff ,scratching their ass till some reporter start stalking them with his camera, women curse all the men with dangling bells for increased rape ratio, whole while rape victim is the only one who is tortured physically and mentally. The trauma she had to go through is beyond imagination.

Young gal was molested in car, 6 year old kid raped in school, driver misbehaved with lady passenger………n, where n is infinite

Ladies, Its high time you start protecting yourself. Make space for safety-weapons in your bag. Even though you forget your vitamin tablet don’t forget those weapons. Use them when necessary. A solid kick to at the center of the culprit might help you little bit. When you think you are ganged up and you don’t have any options, then just run screaming and shouting all the while waking up the sleeping world and god. Keep your eyes open, and watch out for yourself.


“Don’t let their dirty hands get you, because their souls are dirtier than their hands and your cry will go in vain “By SNL

(Note:All men are not bad, there are really good men out there cheers to them and for all the bad ugly men SHIT to them)



Posted: July 7, 2014 in STORY

With greenery shining all around the place Kammaje wouldn’t have looked prettier, a small village near Kinnigoli town. Jackfruit and banyan trees on either side of the road increased the beauty of the place. Some of the people here were agriculturists with vegetable growing in their backyard, while another few had jasmine flowers, few more were beedi workers and the remaining were in the gulf, pouring their sweat to make their dear one’s life a happy one, back in Kammaje. Among these people lived an old man called Bommayya. With dirty stinking clothes that were white eons, torn Luna slippers and small star shaped silver earrings. Earrings were worn by men back then, not for fashion, but as a religious custom. Even though he was around 70 with gray hair, worn out body, knee pain didn’t stop him from earning his daily bread. In that whole of Kammaje and Kinnigoli there was only one Cowboy and he was Bommayya. Unlike the imaginary fancy cowboy on horseback with boots Bommayya was a real cowboy on his feet and slippers.


 Dark clouds dominating the sky, it looked like it would rain any minute and the showers would pour from up above. While people were all busy collecting logs of wood, dry coconut leaves outside their house to save it from rain, Bommayya was calling names out loud without worrying about the rain. Inka, Bannu, Inna…. When he didn’t get any response he increased his speed, cursing the cause of his worries. The eye blinding lightning, the roaring thunder was unable to shake his gut. It was his love for his cows that made him walk faster in spite of his paining knee.

“Enchina saav maryere!” making me search for them in this bad weather. Let me get my hands on them and I’ll show them what I’ll do, saying this he continued to walk.  Birds were flying back to their nest, somewhere in the background frogs were crying to indicate that the most awaited rain is on its way to shower on the dried lands. Bommayya stood for a while under the big mango tree near Jilly Bai’s house and then his eyes danced listening to the familiar Moo of his cows. When he saw them tied he said “so again, you ladies went to her farm!! Again, my ears will bleed listening to her complaints, and then I have to compensate by giving her free manure. He walked towards his cows and patted their back with love and said “why don’t you listen to me? Huh?”

“How many times I have told you Bommayya to keep them out of my farm?” Jilly Bai’s loud firm voice startled him. Old broken specs perched on her nose, wrinkled up face, gray hair and bent back Bommayya wondered why she still works on the farm. Her sons were well settled in Bombay,wonder why she’s dying here alone on this farm Bommayya thought. Politely he folded his arms as if asking her forgiveness and said “Sorry Jilly Bai, I know this is not the first time, I don’t know why they always come to your farm. Next month you will get the manure, on hearing this, her face lit like 100W bulb. It was like patient’s craving matched with a doctor’s prescription. Jilly Bai wiped her hands with her sari and said “if you insist, then who I am to say no. Anyway take the cows and go, it’s going to pour soon. Saying thank you to Jilly bai he untied the cows he started walking them home.

Bommayya’s father Tukra was into toddy business and mother Nursy was a house wife, being the only kid Bommayya enjoyed his early childhood. But when his father fell from a palm tree and died, Bommayya realized his life is not going to be easy. He, along with his mother moved to his paternal uncle’s house in Kateel. With his mother into jaggery business he went to school only till class 3. He never felt that education will help him earn some money that’s why he quit school and joined his mother in the jaggery business.

Bommayya was in his late twenties when he met Devaki, a widow. Her loneliness or his loneliness he doesn’t know what made him fall in love with her. He started to visit her daily in the night.  Sometimes Bommayya would tell her his worries, troubles and Devaki would listen to him with all ears. He never gave a name to his relationship with Devaki because he never felt the need; he never cared about the society which he lived in.

When his mother questioned him about his relationship with Devaki, he lost his calm and fought with her. When he realized he can never make her mother understand his relationship with Devaki,  he left his mother for good and started to live in a small house near Kammaje. He bought some cows with the little money he had and started to earn money with its manure and milk. With time he learnt everything about the cows, their diseases, cures, mating time, breeding, milking, etc. As he didn’t own any land he would take his cows to the forest owned by government to graze early in the morning, sit with them for a while, talk to them, and tell them his sorrows, his only listeners who never complained. Later he would untie them in the forest to enjoy a little bit of freedom and come home. Most of the time the cows would wander in the jungle and then come back home in the evening whenever Nishmitha bus pass through the main road. That’s the unique routine the cows followed. Whenever they fail to return to home on time Bommayya would walk and search for his cows until he find them. Many a times he had walked till Kinnigoli searching his cows inquiring passerby about his cows.

Men can suppress their need for marriage, craving for kids, but women can’t. Devaki started pressurizing Bommayya to get married and start a family, but Bommayya became mute to Devaki’s pleads. When he couldn’t take it anymore of Devaki’s nagging he started to drink liquor. He would drink daily and come home and pick up a fight with Devaki. When Devaki couldn’t take his tortures she left him never to come back. Depressed Bommayya vowed to never fall in love again. With the cows by his side, Bommayya never felt alone.

When his mother passed away, he mourned for days. He never felt so lonely and abandon his entire life.


One fine morning Bommayya was taking his cows to graze in the forest. While crossing the road one of the cows started running seeing a vehicle, Bommayya tried to control the cow but he couldn’t when the cow increased its speed, its then Bommayya lost his balance and fell on the ground. Bommayya was hurt badly, with bruises all over the body, bleeding head, with great difficulty he reached home and held a cloth to his bleeding wounds. As he was scared that if he goes to the hospital, they will admit and there will be no one to look after his cows, so he stayed at home bearing all pain without cribbing. Seeing his bad condition his good Samaritans neighbor bought him food and fed his cows.

In the passing days when it was impossible for him to move, he cried from his bed thinking about his cows. His neighbors forcefully took him to the Mangalore’s government hospital and admitted him in. His hands and legs were plastered and he begged the nurses to let him go as there was no one to take care of his cows.

After two weeks when the doctor let him go saying to look after himself. He was happy with the fact that over the moon as he will be seeing his cows after a gap of two weeks. When he reached home he was devastated to see his empty cow hut. He called them by their name, he called louder, but no cow showed up. He waited till evening, but his wait turned unfruitful. Its then his neighbors told him that few of his cows were stolen and remaining cows were sold by a rich Konkana guy. He knocked on his door in the midnight, cursed him, his ancestors, he cried and yelled. There were no words to describe about his misery. Konkana guy to shut Bommayya’s mouth gave some money and told him to get lost. With the little money in his pocket Bommayya looked at the sky and said “you punish me, I don’t care but why my cows?”. He wiped his tears then and said “I will get you all back”,

Few of his cows which were bought by some of his neighbors returned his cows free of cost pitying him. There was not a single day when Bommayya wondered about his missing cows and cried. He wondered whether they are fed properly in somebody’s house, or slaughtered for meat.

It was monsoon season; his old house couldn’t take the heavy weight of rain and collapsed. With mud-wall leveled to the ground and roof gone, Bommayya made the nearby bus stop as his home, with water pouring in from all sides. He never complained about anything, in fact, he never felt happy, his cow by his aside he felt content and peaceful.

Old age was the only thing holding up Bommayya from doing his daily chores. His eye sight blurred and his joint pain increased, but still he took the cows for grazing daily.

When Bommayya’s old heart changed its beating pattern he wondered what will happen to his cows if he died. He was admitted to same hospital again by his neighbors. Doctor never thought he would make it. With his senses gone, he talked about his cows with other patients over and over again. Sometimes he would call his cows name loudly and say “come home, it’s late, it’s getting darker. The strangers will take you, come home, come to me”.

In his absence, his cows were stolen again and dragged to the slaughter house. Cows cried, calling him in their own language while he called them, told them to come to him and he will save them from all bad things. Even though he lost all his senses, he knew his cows were in danger. One fine day when he closed his eyes with all images of his cows and memories of his all loving cows floating in front of his shut eyes he never opened them again.

The ages have been passed, time has been rolled like a roller coaster ride, but there are no cowboys like Bommayya in Kammaje. After all this years the bus stop bearing the sign on Bommayya’s existence and cows still stands in same place.



Envying the owners of fancy houses, Jumping from one side to other side to save myself from stamping the damn dog poop I was cursing the all dogs. As I didn’t wanted to repeat the history of stamping the poop and taking the stinking smell with me I was careful while walking on the road.

With shabby clothes, long gray hair hidden by dirty cap, untrimmed gray beard falling on his chest and polio affected legs he was struggling to peddle his cycle with his hand. As he was new to that locality when I reached my pg automatically my eyes fell on him as street light was illuminated on him. When I saw him looking at me I knew it from bottom of my heart that he is going to ask money. He took me by surprise when instead of asking money he focused all his energy in moving the old cycle he was sitting. Rusted roads and the cry of the cycle chain for the oil was enough to know the aged cycle not going to last. Without my knowledge I walked towards him and took out the 20rs and gave it to him. What he did next is something so nice and troubling I can never forget him.  When he looked at the money he smiled and signed with his hand saying no. When I insist that he should have the money he said in his language “No, I don’t want the money”. I stood there for a minute to digest what he just said.

“In this progressing , modern, technology ruling, lazy, cruel world where people do anything for money here’s an old, physically challenged man who refuses to take money in spite of his terrible condition. He may not have clean clothes, food to eat, place to sleep but still he leaves on without begging. When he started to peddle his cycle again I said “its nice to meet you sir, people like you are very rare!”. He smiled, waved at me and continued to peddle. With a plastic water bottle hung to his cycle and no food in view I just wondered when it will when he will have his next meal.


W Warrior

Posted: June 21, 2014 in STORY

Rape, Rape Rape and more Rapes. Father rapes daughter, brother rapes sister and neighbor rapes a kid who calls him uncle, boss sexually harasses secretory,… .What our crippled  and blind  folded law is doing? Sleeping like Kumbakarna till media and public forces it to open its eyes.

I threw the newspaper aside when I felt heavy weight on my head. I threw the paper not caring about the Page-order. That was unlike me who loves everything in order but today I didn’t give a rats ass about some freaking page-order of newspaper. I swore from top of my voice wondering when ancestral, out dated, expired-still in-use rules will change. Going by my country’s history where money, power speaks more loudly than justice I laughed knowing the day will never come. I was angry, I was angry on myself for not being some superwoman who saves all the women in despair and sexual harassment, super woman who punishes the bad guy by chopping his dingles with lawn trimming scissors. When I couldn’t control my anger I picked the paper weight form the table but then changed my mind the picked the crazy ball and hit the wall hard as I could ,converting all my anger in form of energy. When the freaking crazy ball came back in my direction after hitting the wall I bent backward and held the ball with my left hand.

When my husband couldn’t ignore me any longer he looked at me from his laptop screen and said “I know its bad but what you can do?you..”. Before he could finish the sentence I said “yeah that’s what the citizens of this country are thinking “What can I do?”. When they understand their capability they will realize they can change the country. Everyday minimum 10 rape cases wonder what men are thinking themselves? . How I hate these law abiding men, should burn them alive. How I wish I could do that to every single man who rapes women.….When my husband realized he made a big mistake talking to me he gave me a long you cant-do-anything look and continued with his work. When I realized I lost my audience I was frustrated, first the rape news and then my ignoring husband. I started saying alphabets in reverse order and waited, waited for him to give me attention. When he didn’t do as I expected I threw the crazy ball at him as hard as I could. He gave me “you-are-dead-meat look” and started getting up from the couch. I open the main door to our apartment wore my slippers and yelled “see, didn’t I grab your attention? That’s what we people should do”, saying that I ran outside to save my life. Its not that I was scared of my husband but its how I used to react after doing something without thinking. When I realized he didn’t follow me I waited for some time in the stair case wondering what he gonna do.  When I heard the cooker whistle for the third time I had to go inside the house no matter what. I pushed the door and peeped in when I didn’t see my husband I smiled and went inside. I locked the main door and stepped in the kitchen. When I turned off the gas my husband attacked me from behind. He pinned me to the wall and said “sometimes even over smartness is dangerous”. When my husband saw my calculative look he said “don’t forget I am your husband, not a stranger who wants to molest you”. I smiled thinking maybe I scared sweat out of him.


I packed lunch box for me and for my husband and got ready to office. My husband picked his helmet and asked “so all weapons are resting your hand bag?”. I applied coat of lipstick and said “yes honey they are all in place. You want to have a look?”. He walked towards me kissed me on my forehead and said “wonder what will happen to the unfortunate person who by mistake bumps into you?”. I kissed him on his cheek, smiled when I saw my lipstick mark on is cheek. Spreading it like a blush on his cheek I said “wait and watch”. When My husband realized what I was doing he held my hand and said “oh honey , will you stop that, everyday my boss ask me whether i apply makeup and come, today I got to know who is the culprit “. I pushed him outside the door and said hurry, we are getting late. I locked the main door and checked the weapons in my bag. When my hand felt the touch of pepper spray, chilly powder box, a knife I took a deep breath and followed my husband. I may miss my lipstick or compact but I never missed the knife and pepper spray.  Their mere presence in my bag gave me inexpressible joy and confidence.


Sitting behind my husband on his Royal Enfield I was still thinking about the news. Why rape ratio is increasing in India where goddess like Parvathi, Mother Mary, Radha are worshipped? Why punishment for rape is not severe? why politions says “why punish boys for rape?”. May be lack of punishment for rapist motivates the men to try out the crime, or may be they are sadist and want to torture a woman sexually, may be RAPE hype..

I saw a security guard near ATM and wondered whether he raped any woman in his life time?then I saw a guy in formal office wear and again I wondered whether he can be a rapist?I saw many auto drivers and cab drivers wondering same thing…I was lost in my thoughts I didn’t even realized that we reached my office. When my husband touched my leg and said “honey, don’t you want to go to office today?”. I got down from the bike and started walking without saying anything .when I realized I missed something I went back towards my waiting husband kissed him on cheek and said “ride safe”. I stood there watching him leave. With roller coaster in my head I started walking towards my office.


As my husband was busy he couldn’t pick me up way back home. I travelled by bus that day cursing my husband and his stupid work. Free falling conductors, groping men made me edgy. When I got down from bus I was like a time bomb which anytime going to blast.  I was walking on the lane when suddenly power went and street lamps died. I switched on the flash light in my phone and started walking in the empty dark lane. With my ears and eyes on road I was prepared for worst

With one hand on the pepper spray in my bag my mind was alert. I was walking with full speed when on the next turn two guys came in front of me. As it was dark their face was hidden. With one guy grabbing my left hand other held his hand over my mouth. I didn’t move, I didn’t react instead I took a deep breath to calm all my senses. Those men took a minute to realize that I am not resisting. I closed my eyes, took one more breath this time I took deeper one thinking what will be my next move. As I didn’t wanted to be the one more victim of Rape, one more assaulted female fighting for justice for years in court, one more FIR resting in peace in police register, one more public talking item, one more woman who was stamped by men I spring into action. With all the frustration boiling inside me, I aimed my leg at  the man’s  sensitive area  who was holding my mouth  and kicked it hard as if I got a penalty corner.  The painful scream from the person mouth was proof of my solid kick. I smiled sarcastically said to the other guy “Before you lose your fertility like your friend just run for your life”. The man gave me an angry look and held my hair in other hand whole time telling his friend to get up. With my free hand I took out the pepper spray and sprayed it over the man’s eyes. With his scream reaching the sky some people came to help me. Second guy was trying to run when I caught him with his collar and said “what did I tell you brother?”. To run! But you didn’t listen. Saying that I kicked the man’s center part with all my might, second penalty corner. Even Messi wouldn’t have kicked the ball like that I thought. People were thrashing them left and right. I was still trembling thinking what would have happen if they would have succeeded in their mission. My heart beat sound was  loud like tribal drum. I tried to calm and took deep breaths. When I felt better I patter my back and said to myself “Women are not week , they just need to fight back”.

People were thrashing both the guys. Both of them were bleeding and were begging them to stop beating.  While one was unconscious other was crying loudly saying “sorry, sorry, never going to do that again”. May be he will take few months to recover from his blow I thought.  I started to walk when familiar Royal Enfield stop near me. My husband looked at the crowd and then me and asked me “what happened?”. I smiled at him and said “nothing honey, two guys were teasing some lady and she taught them a lesson which they never going to forget”. My husband gave me an i-know-that-you-did smile and started the bike.



After getting down from Namma Metro i started running through staircase to catch a auto. When auto driver heard my destination  they made weird face and said no. Those who agreed said 10 Rs extra on meter. I stood there cursing the MFAH in my mother tongue. I wanted to hold their ears like how my math teacher used to hold my ears in school and ask “Brother, your meter doesnt work?why the hell you have kept it here?for exhibition?”. I controlled my anger and stood there waiting for the next auto.
When i looked at my watch i realized i have to pick the next auto no matter what. How i wished i had worn knee level skirt instead of salwar kamiiz. before i could open my mouth auto would have stopped right front me. How i wished!!!

When i agreed extra money on meter and got into next auto i wondered why government cant implement any rules for auto drivers who never agree on meter charges. Whom i am kidding!!dirty politicians rule India while common people work their ass out to pay extra money everywhere. With Modi in power hoping sometime sooner or later something good will happen.

Auto driver increased his speed and started humming some song as if hes riding one of the Fast n Furious car. Ahead of us there was this  auto driver who was pushing his auto. May be he was running out of gas i thought. With a fraction of second my auto driver changed his sitting position. With one leg inside his auto and second one back of the other one he started pushing the auto. Have seen this before but that was the first time was watching the live show. With my heart in my mouth was about to tell him to be careful as i am not fascinated to break my legs and update in FB:).

Other auto driver without saying anything took a right turn. How ungrateful i thought!!no thank you nothing. Out of curiosity i asked my auto driver “sir, do you know that guy?”. He replied “No, i dont”. Before he could take in some air my next question was ready “Then why did you help a stranger?”. He turned back gave him one of his best smile and said “Its not necessary to know the person to help him”.  I was like “alla sir, he didnt even thank you!!”. He chuckled and said “when i help i do it for my satisfaction not for some gratitude”. When i heard his reply my questions faded away like Bangalore’s morning fog. To help some strangers without expecting anything in return you must be nice person

When my stop came i got down from the auto and said “you did a good job Sir. You really are good person. God will remember what you have done today and reward you.”. He smiled and gave me back the extra money on meter. I gave my one of the cutest smile and said “hope to travel in your auto soon Sir”. All auto drivers are not bad after all


I am bond, AbhiShree Bond!!!



Ayyo!! kidding macha



Every kid has to go through this torment….No Hair for little Fairy!!


Aviary Photo_130227945487530350

I am bored, Tell me punyakotis story


Look Lord Krishna here:)



Excuse me, i have to eat butter now…



Ayyo its not real hair, its artificial!!!!



Who said only model can pose!!


WP_20140420_068 (1)

who doesn’t like Indian traditional wear!!?



Meghaaaaa my darling cousin


Intro:My cute girly girly AbhiSheeee(as she says her name) is 2 years old. Abhi, she dont mind asking the same questions more than 10 times, she enjoys seeing the same rhymes often and often until she gets it. She always enjoys roaming around, playing(at times fighting) with Spoorthi and Aditi (her cousins). She a big fan of Chota bheem. She is no less than a boy child in her mischief’s. She gets irritated when someone touches her cheeks…My Lilttle Sweet Chubby Abhi is blessed with beautiful smile.


Posted: May 15, 2014 in Its Their CORNER


Hiiiiiiii everyone, its me Maya and my little kid bro Kevin



Kevin and mommys Selfi.. One of my favourite pic



school time

With cool uniform like this who doesnt  want to go to school?



I can handle spoon very well; you see i love to be independent:)


micky n mini

Micky and Mini(unfortunately mommy didnt get the costume)



With cute little eyes, innocent smile and those dimples he makes everyone fall in love with him




I am daddy’s favorite apple pie


2 mnkeys

Ok Mommy, can you repeat everything you said from beginning?



All set to go to school


i am a star

Aint i look classy?



Not now daddy, i have to powder my nose before you click my pic




Sorry dady no place for you:)

Few words from their Mommy:My little hearts Maya Jennifer Sera and Kevin Tej Sera smiles,cries,dramas huh never to forget their mischief, that’s like a perfect combo. Kids!My GOD they can drive you crazy but at the same time can get an instant smile even if your day goes bad with tiny little things they do. We are blessed to have you two little darlings in our lives. Our life start with them and end with them.Life cant be better without you my little hearts