Sharda Mishra – Co-Author, Out of My Box

Sharda Mishra is an avid reader, a hiker, and a photographer, from Ranchi, India. Studying human emotions is her passion. She is a mother of two lovely daughters. Sharda Mishra loves to pen down her thoughts about social issues. She believes that humor should be the way of life. She finds talking to children very cathartic. She loves cooking and tweaking recipes. She eats with her eyes and loves food photography. She is in IT but her fondness is in writing. She has been happily married for twenty years and lives with her husband and two lovely daughters.

Her mother was a homemaker and father worked as a manager in a bank. Sharda has always been influenced by her mother’s strong personality and kindness in every area of her life.

Sharda’s love for reading came from rummaging for books and magazines, which was a scarce thing for her, growing up. She never had the privilege of owning a book of her own, up until she was an adult, and thus the hunger of reading kept growing. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Public Administration and Computer Applications and Masters in Computer Applications. Understanding human emotions has always been her passion and she expresses that through her writing. Exploring human feelings has always intrigued her empathy towards every living being. Most of the ideas and thoughts in her stories come from talking to people. Talking to children and understanding human emotions through their eyes makes her realize the simplicity of life and how to achieve happiness even in diverse situations.

I loved to write for FemmeFluenza. The prompts are always intriguing, relevant and something I love to write about. The ease of submission was a breeze, too. Thank you WriteFluence, for providing the wonderful platform to us for writing out our mind.

Sharda Mishra on her experience writing for FemmeFluenza

Here’s an excerpt from Sharda’s winning story Doused, that’s now published in Out of My Box

As I walked past the house in the street of a small village in India, I was startled, and with extreme concerns I asked a man, “Why is all that hubbub and screaming coming from that house?”

“The Mukhiya (Village head) set his daughter-in-law on fire for dowry!” the man said frantically without stopping.

“How can the Mukhiya do that, isn’t he supposed to extinguish such practices, rather than setting his own daughter-in-law ablaze on fire?” I expressed my anger.

But I knew empty rhetoric would do nothing.

I have to take action.

I went inside the house and saw the most heart wrenching sight. A woman, in her twenties, was rolling on the ground. The ground was muddy and not paved at all. Surrounding the open courtyard were rooms, kitchen and toilet. On one side was a hand pump with cement plastered all around. There were two jute cots in a corner. As the woman was rolling on the mud to put off the fire it etched marks and scratches on the mud. Her saree was tattered like an old rag by now. Her hair seemed beautifully styled sometime ago.

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