Mind game

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

"I can't tell if my mind is playing tricks with me. What if what I think I want is just my mind telling me because it is cooler than what I really want? "

"Like how?"

"Like I want to grow up the corporate ladder. I see women bosses with their own cabins and I desire that. What if I am chasing something that I never really wanted?"

"You know, people have all these questions. But they never stop to listen. The universe always answers. You gotta stop posing more questions."

The stores began to close but not their conversations.

Separation anxiety.

the tears refuse to stop

the lump in my throat

a stubborn presence

adjectives like heavy heart

slowly begin to make sense

images flash my mind

of you falling from the stairs

 'amma' filling the air

of eyes searching for me and

me not being there

I imagine if you will see

the same love in their eyes 

the same warmth in your grandma's hug

A dam of tears bursting

at that silly meandering bug

Its stupid

its irrational

My mind tries to reason

But every cell of my heart

decide to ache in unison

Is it my need for you

or the need for you

to feel the need for me

I am a hostage of this bond we have

beautiful and painful as can be

amid all this chaos

I also feel grateful

to have felt something so profound 

Its alright that it caused pain because

all beautiful things have that abound.

- its funny how sadness evokes poems. 

J - Journey to motherhood

Life changed steadily and stealthily. It first slowed down, in the form of pregnancy, preparing me for the onslaught of changes ahead, and now it is as if somebody turned on the fast forward mode and forgot to turn it off. I was pregnant one day and now, I am already making plans for Sid’s first birthday.

When I take a pause and look around, life is so different yet so familiar. As if it has always been like that. The car got a child seat. The living room is strewn with colorful toys. The closet has a tiny corner full of bibs, fuzzy blankets and cute onesies. Bottles and nipples and baby food fill the pantry, poopy diapers filled the trash cans, full sleep cycles turned into 2 hour sprints. The change was seamless. Natural. As if we had been doing it for ages. Or may be it was the single-minded focus. May be it was because everything else just disappeared. I don’t know. Our past way of life was just a blur.

The past year saw a myriad of emotions, emotionlessness also being one of them. During pregnancy, Sush continued his office-tennis-eat-do pending work-sleep routine while I took lone walks. I grappled with mood-swings(read jealousy) as life stood still for me, while it was the same whirlwind frenzy for others(read Sush).

For almost 6 months of my pregnancy, I was only a growing ball of mass. Devoid of any special emotion. Except for a fuller face, wobbling gait and a protruding belly, nothing had changed. I mean from inside. No, not biologically. Lets not even go there.

"So tell me, how do you feel being pregnant? Is this your first?" I see that sparkle in others' eyes that is clearly lacking in mine.

"Good!" I try my best to feign excitement.

"There, you see that ?! That’s your baby! And this is his heartbeat!" The doctor had exclaimed during my first appointment, a wide smile pasted on her face.

I remember staring hard at the monitor, unable to figure out which of those black and grey spots was my baby. I was hoping to be excited, feel that rush of happiness, heart swelling with pride, tears of joy streaming down my face, Sush and I holding hands and looking at what we made together.

But none of that happened. I couldn’t even identify my baby.

That moment was the first time that brought me close to reality, closer to the fact that I was going to be a mother soon. Mother. Something I had never been. Something that so many women have given their everything for. It was supposed to be special. Something had to happen inside.

Why wasn’t I feeling a thing?

--------------------------------------------

And then it happened. A tiny flutter in my stomach that lasted a millisecond. I sprung alive. The whole meaning and experience of a life growing inside me made sense. Everything suddenly seemed special and extra ordinary.

As days passed, and as my little dude grew from being the size of a mango to a pineapple, so did his movements. In the middle of meetings, while driving, or when I am just couching, he would stretch, roll all over or just nudge me as if to say hello.

I loved this intimacy and the growing awareness of my child. I felt closer to him after all these months, and really felt like a mommy-to-be. As my due date neared, I felt a tinge of sadness that I would soon be missing a moving belly that I have grown so fond of.

--------------------------------

We were making our first pediatric visit. At 4 days old, he looked so much smaller in the oversized car seat. He was fast asleep, head bent to one side, body slumped. His tiny hands were crossed in his lap, the peeling baby skin appearing brighter in the outside light.

It pained me to see him strapped like that, so far away from the comforting touch of a mother. It felt cruel.

I looked at his fragile frame, the black teeka on the temple, the toy hanging from the car seat, the pacifier in my hands, his tiny feet, the gentle rising and falling of his breath - and felt a lump forming in my throat. This tiny human became my world. In that moment, I felt a connection so surreal, so deep, that an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness engulfed me. I had something I would die for.

As I struggled with my new fears, I realized maybe this was how being a mother felt like.

PS : Yes, I am still writing for the AtoZ challenge. Sigh. I hope I can finish it this year.

PPS : Any ideas for "K"?. Theme is related to pregnancy and motherhood.

H - Home

The fresh smell of Sandalwood from the incense sticks wafted through the air. It was a bright Saturday morning and the newness of the day hadn't worn off yet. The T.V. was on mute, and Baba was pacing in front of the it, immersed in the news from India. I saw amma move in the kitchen, her wet hair wrapped in a pancha, chanting mantras and brewing tea. The rise and fall of her voice accentuated by the chai masala filled the room and my heart.

The heavenly smell, the jingle of the ritual bell, the mantras, the reassuring sight of the diyas, the physical presence of amma baba, the familiarity of it all - do you know what it felt like? It felt like home. Life felt complete.

I smiled in gratitude, thanked my stars and got back to work.

B - Bingo!

I pee-ed on the stick and prepared to wait for 10 minutes like I did a dozen times before. The last multiple tests were negative, and I was expecting nothing different this time. I was ready to be disappointed again.

But when two bright pink lines stared back at me almost immediately, first I thought, 'that was fast' and then, 'Heck! I am pregnant!'

A wave of relief washed over me. The extra line meant no more carefully planned 'activities'. No more medical invasions. No more baring my dignity. No more of hearing 'When!?' from people more desperate than me. A break to amma from pujas and vraths and what not.

I walked over to Sush, cautious with my footing (already!) all the while screaming and shouting nothing more than his name. Normally, anybody would be excited, but we were confused first. This was big. I knew we would be great parents. I knew we would love the baby with all our hearts. I knew nothing can be more beautiful than have a tiny fragile beautiful human being in your arms.

But there was something that was holding us back and we did talk about it often. I guess we were just not ready to give up the life we had then.

Although when I think about it again, this is not completely true. Yes, we had a great life. We used to travel quite a bit, work our asses off, played sports, watched movies, played poker, did potlucks, and even just lazed around a lot. But over time, the same things gave less and less joy, atleast to me. Weekends felt monotonous. There was all the time on hands but nothing meaningful to do. Something was lacking.

I started wanting more from life. And that's when I felt ready. That's when my passive attempts turned passionate. And Bingo!

H - Half-Hearted #AtoZChallenge

"Did you take the tablets?"

"Um. em..No."

"Are you kidding me!? Do you want to keep doing this forever? Why cant you do the bare minimum? "

"Aww. C'mon. I want it..as much as you do..."

Raised eyebrows.

"Did you check your temperature?"

"No."

"Did you log the symptoms? I can't believe you! Do you want to go through that torture again?"

"I don't knowwww! I don't feel ready yettt. I know you feel the same too. And you don't even have to go through anything. I have to give up everything I like doing...I am not ready for this phase yet.. I dont knoww...Every month, I suppress my deepest fear --- what if the wriggly little thing made it this time?"

"Look, I understand, but we cannot let this go on forever. Things will only get complicated. Lets just decide. Do you wanna be, or not?"

Thank you for dropping by :) The theme of my posts this year, for the A-Z challenge, is To Show, Not Tell. I hope you enjoyed this piece.

Goodbye.

The empty shelves stared back at me. The room once full of clothes and suitcases looked gloomy and desolate, deprived of the very things that hinted the presence of a fuller household. In a few hours, the bustling nest will be all quiet and well, empty.

Even as we busied ourselves weighing things, calling out instructions and making lame jokes, we were all aware of the undercurrent of thoughts each one was having. That in a few hours, we will be gone. That 45 days went in a whisker. Its funny how we think that not acknowledging the emotion would somehow erase the pain. But it was all around. In the eyes that already started missing us. In the uneasiness of laughs. In the restrained emotions.

The pain of separation stung each one of us.

 Good byes are hard.

As I tell kaku that I will be back in a year, I realize one year is a very long time. It scares me to think what the next year will hold. It scares me that things might change, either for the better or worse and I wouldn’t be there when it happens. That I wouldn’t be there when it really matters.

I  remember the long conversations where hearts were bared and stories of scars shared. On every trip home, I get to see love, care, anger, suppression, respect, disregard, weakness and strength, pride and contempt, all at the same time. And every time, the barrage of emotions drains me because I can never finger what it makes me feel, other than heavy.

There are tight hugs and curt good byes. Tears well up in unexpected eyes. It makes me think if this goodbye was just a pretense. That the tears were just holding on for the right moment. It leaves me feeling if I could have done more than just listen. It leaves me feeling guilty that I am running away, from a family that might be breaking apart. Or maybe it always had been that way. Maybe, living far away from home makes you see the cracks. Or maybe, that's just how families are.

Goodbyes are hard. It makes you think so many things.

Life is made up of choices we make and we don’t make. Some choices are hard, while some are a breeze. You win some. You lose some. Some hurt you. Some hurt others. Life, when giving you something, also takes something. It’s the balance that we all have to find. And peace in the choices we make.

I am still trying to make peace with my choice. 

Would you like to live longer.?

These days, everything seems to be less. And we find ourselves wanting for more. For an average person, the needs are easily met and the wants don't seem to be getting shorter.

We want bigger houses.

We want more salary.

We want more friends.

We want more than 24 hours in a day.

We want to do more things with our life.

We want to achieve more.

Along the same lines, would you like to have more years in your life?

I am asking this question because I recently read an article in TIME that Silicon Valley is trying to hack its way to  MUCH longer life. Millions are being poured. Years are being invested to find a way to increase the longevity and quality of human life. We are talking about adding atleast 100 more years to our average life span.

Larry Ellison, co-founder of Oracle, has invested more than $330 million to research about aging and age-related diseases. Larry Page launched Calico, a research company with the objective of improving human life.

When I learned about the ways that already exist today as a step closer towards achieving this goal, I was dumb-founded.

50 people in the US have paid $8000 for a transfusion of blood from young people of ages 16 to 25. Because it is believed and being researched  (by the company who does this) that young blood has a lot of factors that are important for cellular health and helps the body to rejuvenate itself.

A physical exam, called the Health Nucleus, is an 8 hour long, $25000, head-to-toe, inside-out physical exam that helps in early diagnostics of where your body is heading. It provides you a chance to prevent the diseases that are diagnosed to occur in the future.

These are just to name a few! Looking at where the world is heading and the endless possibilities and inventions, I have no doubt they will figure out something in a few years.

What then? Will you be willing to live longer? If all your friends and family lived upto 180 years, would you still be willing to die at 80? Will life still be meaningful if we knew we have a loooong way to go?

Change is good, but if the basic fundamentals of nature is being manipulated, I cant help but feel apprehensive about all this.

What do you think?


Note: The picture is not the same issue I am talking about.

Longing

HOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

 

 

I stare at the far-away window, hot vapors of coffee fogging my glasses. But I don’t care since I am not really looking at anything.

I just wonder. I wonder if you are in office yet. If you ever stare out of a window like I do every morning. I wonder if I will ever find someone like you. The coffee is bitter, but its warmth is comforting. Just like your memories. It kills me that all I have is memories now.

I think about how cruel life is.

And for the billionth time, I regret what happened that day.

 

 

PS : Written for Friday fictioneers. I would love some honest feedback on how well I expressed the character's longing.

The guardian

View from outside the door

 As I step out of the house after running all over the place to gather things, breakfast in one hand, a bag in another, and fretting about the morning status call that I am getting late to, I see it. Calm and composed. Steady and firm. It instantly eases me down. I feel the warmth of its embrace and almost hear its encouraging whispers. Its there, watching us live our lives. Silently. Unconditionally.

There is something about the unwavering presence of a large bounteous tree that re-instills faith in me, in the people and in this world. When I pass under its shade when coming back home, or when I am lazily strolling nearby, watching the geese family quacking merrily under its cover, I am reminded of my blessings and of the people who make it happen. Maybe because its just like those people. Not much ado. No bold promises. No loud declarations. Just silent assurances. They exist around you, like the air, like this tree, helping you breathe. Helping you live. For some it is God. For me its the two men in my life. I think this tree is a reminder of them. And an inspiration to be that tree for someone.

To be a Guardian.

Talking of guardians reminds me of Ajji and the culture of elderly presence in Indian households. Grandmas and Grandpas. Their wisdom, knowledge and old-fashioned charisma is in a way essential to keep the family values from dying. My family was once brimming with septuagenarians. Any wedding, and the first row was dotted with silver-haired heads. My cousin often joked that that was a danger zone. That if you happened to walk past them, there was always somebody who needed water, some-busy-body with an unapologetic curiosity asking penetrating questions, and if you hadn't already done, you would be obliged to touch their feet out of respect and melt in a volley of rough, awkward hugs. These were just the harmless side effects of having a generation amongst us that are a living reminder of our roots. They are the last straw that binds us as one huge family. Thanks to them, we know who our dad's uncles are, what kind of relationship they shared and what it took to keep them all together.

The number of silver-haired heads are getting fewer and fewer with passing years. And it scares me that one day, the remainder of us will just disintegrate and fade without our kids ever knowing who we grew up with and what our families looked like.

Eyes

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

 

 

 

The crowd was rooting for him. Women were throwing kisses in the air and one was even begging him to marry her. He is so lucky.

As he scanned the sea of faces earnestly, his eyes gleamed as they locked on hers. I live for you woman.

She smiled at him awkwardly, mouthing the words “I Love you, too’”.  He saw it again. The distance. The guilt. Guilt of not loving him back the way he did.

Eyes. How they give it all away.

His heart shattered into a million pieces. And nobody heard a thing.

 

~~~~~~

Here is another version of the same scene:

The crowd was rooting for him. Women were throwing kisses in the air and one was even begging him to marry her. He is so lucky.

As he scanned the sea of faces earnestly, his eyes gleamed as they locked on hers. I live for you woman.

She smiled at him awkwardly, mouthing the words “I Love you, too’”.  He saw it again. The distance. The guilt. Guilt of not loving him back the way he did.

Eyes. How they give it all away.

He brushed it aside. Just like last time. I would rather live a lie.

 

PS : I am already way past the due date for Friday Fictioneers. But I wanted to take my time and do justice to this scene. Did you feel the pain of the character? I would appreciate any feed back that you can provide. 

Which version did you like better?

 

 

 

 

30 things before 30 -Part II

The reason it took me so much time to write about the next 15 is, no prizes for guessing, I haven't accomplished much here. The ones I really would have liked to. The ones that would have given me some satisfaction in an otherwise soulless life I lead.

To read the goal list, please go here. 
And to read Part I, click here


16. Yes. I got this one done. I am PMP certified now. Like every said, it was one monkey off my back. I was preparing for this one from pre-historic ages. And the only thing that kept me motivated and driven was this 30-before-30 goals I proclaimed to the world. There is nothing that could beat the feeling of striking off an item from a list.

I remember a particular lunch-table conversation where this question was asked - "If you had a chance to change something about your childhood, what would it be?" And I remember answering "The way I learnt things. The way I learnt the subjects in school". Saying things is so easy, no? I studied for this PMP in exactly the same way I used to before. More for passing the exam and less for understanding and real life implementation. Sigh.

17. Don't even get me started on this. Technology is accelerating at break neck speed and I am like the snail lost in a hurricane. I have a hundred options to choose from and there is a high chance that by the time I learn it, there would be another in the market that surpasses it. In today's world, anything, anything is possible and I don't like it. This is not the world I thought I knew.

18. I haven't figured this one out yet. A lot of introspection, retrospection went in. I kind of know what drives me, what makes me better. But in all this process, what I found out is I miss being in touch with my heart. I lost how it feels to be really touched. To feel something move inside me. To be humane once again.

I would really like to have this back. More on this in a different post.

19.  Nah. Didn't happen. No complaints. I had the opportunity to visit other beautiful places. I got to see the fall colors in full bloom. The bright red and the burning orange and the stunning yellow colors took the breath out of me and transported me to a mesmerizing world..

20. Not once, but twice!  The second time was when the temperatures were 42-45 F ( or 1-2 deg C). We had pulled over jeans over jeans, sweaters over sweaters, and sat by the camp fire until the last twig burnt out. That was quite an experience.

21. I started doing it, and for a good period of time. And then I realized I was doing it for the smell of incense sticks and the sight of the tiny deepam. I was doing it to have an answer when dad asks about it. And then I stopped doing it.

22. Yes I got one back. I think. That day, when we talked for almost two hours on phone, it made me happy that we have so much in common. That even if we didn't talk everyday or even every month, we can light a conversation on fire. That how we share the same opinion on a lot of things and how the same topics interest us. I haven't found anybody like you in so many years and I would never want to lose you.

And the other one, I am working on building it. I know we could be great friends and like everything that grows, this needs some watering. I hope I do whatever it takes.

23. Last time I was in LA, I went into a Mac store on impulse, got a compact power, a face sponge and an eye liner. I even got a hair straightener from a local store. Now I look more like an IT professional than like the cleaning lady on the premises.

I almost hear Sush yelling "Everything you do needs a heavy investment first." *wink* *wink*

24. That I do. Just that I don't remember much of what I read :( Any tips on how you do it? If it is just memory power, then keep it to yourself!

25. That I do.  Just that I don't remember much of what I read :( If it is just memory power, then keep it to yourself!

26. I guess I have to take a course of data mining and data analytics to understand the data about ME and figure out what that actually means! Why is it so tough?

Atleast I have data.

As for the society, there are so many things we can do. Doing good and spreading goodness is one. Remember the ad where a person does good to a dog, somebody sees it and does his part somewhere else, and how the good comes back to the first person? We 'think' a lot of things. We seldom act. We care about so many things and so many people, but we rarely do anything besides caring in our hearts.

One thing I learnt from Sush is, if you care about something or somebody so much, then DO something about it.

So you might see a lot of ACTION from me in the future ;)

27. I couldn't say I did. Not even one perhaps.

28. Well, if talking about it or writing a blogpost about it counts, then yeah *Sheepish look*. I will keep trying and even if I can change one person, I would consider it done.

29. I still judge people! I just cant help it. But I don't let that affect my relationship with them. Every person is different, everyone has their own learning curve, everyone has different exposure and different backgrounds. So its unfair to shoot them down for who they are.

And I think everyone judges. You observe. And derive conclusions. Its basic human nature. Its almost like breathing. And there is no harm in it unless you put a label on a person with a glue that sticks so hard that you cannot pull it off without tearing some of it.

30. I don't have anything to show for it. But I see myself thinking less about failure and more about trying it out.


There, I said it all. This was a great journey. The most productive of all of my existence :D

Learning life's lessons the 'Ouch' way!

There might be 100 things you like about that person. But there will still be a zillion things you wish you could change. 

Its not easy, I tell ya. To live with a person all your life. 

"Acceptance my dear", the hubby pitches in from the bed side. "Its all about accepting the person the way they are. Like how I did."

How do you deal with this? How well have you learnt to love the person, be it your spouse, you dad, your pest of a brother or that silly roommate, for who they are? Do you celebrate the differences or try to burn them?

PS : Totally swamped with work. And it is going to be like this throughout the rest of the year. Sundays and Wednesdays are a way for me to keep in touch with my blog. I am doing a lousy job, I know, but please bear with me.

What happens behind the closed doors of an office restroom

It started as a drizzle, faint trickles slowly ballooning into torrential downpour. The only sound in an otherwise pin drop silence. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably as the sound decided not to recede. Please forgive me for being so blatantly gross, but what's with this woman? Pouring gallons and gallons of it. She must have had the largest urinary bladder in the world, I bet. She must have been busy too, otherwise who would wait until the bladder burst? Wait, isn't this too much personal information to deduce? Is the woman analyzing the same thing about me?! The design is so invasive that anybody can guess the pressure/urgency/size of my bladder and I am not sure I like it :\

I don't know why, but I have this irresistible urge to bend down and see who is next to me. I mean, I do not see the whole person, but I do get a glimpse of the shoes, thanks to the 2-foot gap and there is a 1% chance that I might know that person. Once I even blurted out a 'Howdy X! What's up?' evoking complete silence for a full 30 sec.

Besides those that come in thundering, do their job and leave, there are people who are there for a long time. Absolutely no sound. They are just there. Either thinking, or relieving themselves of bigger things due to lack of time in the mornings. These kind of people are embarrassed about letting others know that they are there. So they pretend to not exist. But little do they know that the smell of the Apple scented air freshener hastily sprayed gives them away. I then know its time to hold my breath a little longer.

And then, there are people who are more vocal about their presence. They decide that is the best place to resolve issues. They have arguments over phone, completely oblivious to the fact that others might be listening. It is either the bitchy mother-in-law or a stupid customer care guy. If you happen to be lucky and its all in English, you get your share of meat. You can either stick around longer to see how it ends or walk away in a sprint to spit it out on the first person you meet.

Hold on, there is more nastiness to deal with. Making it more disgusting is the fact that it is a CORPORATE office restroom. Well dressed professionals work here. So my head went for a spin when I saw people using the toilets royally and then promptly forgetting to flush. Many a times I found myself reeling back in disbelief, shock and repugnance at the sheer lack of basic etiquette. The mental trauma I underwent was so deep rooted that I refused to go to that south side restroom for a good one month. It is for this reason, if I ever have the power to do something about it, I would install cameras in all the restrooms, catch such persons red handed and let them do a walk of shame. Oh, how I would love that! The mere thought is giving me goosebumps.

Bathrooms surprise you like no other. Like those set of people who take things in their literary sense. For example, the boss might have said, 'Go, Judy, make a mark.' And lo, Judy decides to leave her foot prints everywhere, on the toilet seat cover, on the flush, wherever her feet can reach instead of her hands. She literally did what she was asked to do. And what would I want to do to such people? I leave it to your imagination.

There, I said it all. All of my bathroom woes. What is your story?


PS : This post is just supposed to be funny and not offensive. I really hope people take it in the right spirit!
While looking for a picture to go with my post, I stumbled upon some hilarious toilet quotes. I literally ROFL-ed.  Hope you enjoy them too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

Rising from dust - Friday fictioneers

Note: The following post is an attempt to write a 100-word short story using the picture as a prompt. Friday Fictioneers is a brainchild of Rochelle. Do visit her for more information.

copyright-Rich Voza

“Run Meera. Break free. It’s your life and nobody can take it from you“, mother’s words echoed in my ears. Dawn was breaking, lifting the blanket of darkness. As if the universe was telling me it’s time for a new day, new life.

I held Nidhi closer. It surprised me how such a tiny little thing gave me the courage to break from the shackles that bound me for five years. With renewed energy and resolve, I calmed my thudding heart and walked towards the gate, nervousness paving way to confidence. That moment, I made a promise. To never return.  

 

 

 

 

Songs of childhood



A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost!

The afternoon spread out lazily before us, as we settled on the couch, munching some chudva and giggling like little girls at the funny and witty retorts of Koki ji of Shrimanji Shrimatiji. Wondering how we ended up watching this serial, that used to air on DD2 more than a decade ago? I would blame the rain.

 "Hey Tai, you would love this! I stumbled upon this song a while ago! " With a smile on her face and frenzy in her actions, she casted a video on T.V.

"Jhuk Jhuk Jhuk Jhuk agina gaadi, dhoorancha rekha haveth kaadi..palti jhaadi paahuya, mama cha gavaala zaauya..!"

"Oh my God! I had totally forgotten about it. How long ago was it, 20 years?" I was bewildered and very happy, as if I found my long lost sister. I was excited like a puppy because it was our childhood song, the only Marathi one that we knew. We used to sing it a lot, the most favorite line being 'Roz roz poli shikran'. It brought back old memories of us in ugly oiled-ribboned-plaits, drowning in oversized uniforms, devouring shikran poli(squashed banana, milk and sugar eaten with rotis) while racing against time. That was our staple breakfast when we were in school.

 The pitter patter of raindrops outside prodded us to go further.

"You know what I like best of those days? Singing. Remember how we kept our doors open when there was a power cut, and played Antakshari so the whole building knew!?"

As much backward as it may sound, impromptu power cuts were the much needed respite. It brought the day to a grinding halt leaving us no option but to stop whatever we were doing and sit in anticipation(Power cuts usually occurred during late evenings and nights. That's when the 'saving' would occur). The family sat down together, keeping the doors and windows open to let some breeze in. Sometimes, there was a gush of wind and blow off the only candle. Ajji would sit in a corner, fanning herself with a newspaper. Dad would hum a little song and we picked up his cue. He sang his favourite songs, songs of his times, melodious, lyrical and meaningful and before we knew it, they became our favourites too.

There were songs for different occasions. If Independence day or republic day was around the corner,
we tended to sing patriotic songs. 'Meri desh ki dharti..' of Manoj Kumar or 'Ai mere watan ke logon' rendered by Lata Mangeshkar. I remember how we would sing the whole song, lump forming in our throats, tears trickling down our faces sometimes, as we lived the lives of soldiers through a song. And sometimes, if we were feeling thankful or grateful, we would end it with Ram Raksha, the whole family reciting in unison. Dad would sometimes forget the lines and repeat a previous phrase and mom and Grandma would snuff him out by raising their voices, continuing the right way, not letting him distract their focus.

Back in those days, life was full of life. And it showed in how we sang, with all our hearts. With so much dramatic-emotional-facial-synchronization that it would make AR Rahman cringe.

We recalled random episodes, like how Amma had come running from kitchen when she heard "Chaiya Chaiya" being played on Rangoli, how it left my grandfather perplexed at her sudden sprint and when asked, she had sheepishly replied, 'It is Nanu's favorite song and I wanted to see how it looked like'. It was a daring act on her part, because daughter-in-laws were not expected to scamper like a little girl, more so if the father-in-law shared the same roof. Our eyes fluttered mistily as we recalled her mischievous side that hid behind her dutiful-daughter-in-law-demeanor. The face that lights up when we say something nice to her. The memory of the child-like joy in her smile played before us.

The rain mellowed into a drizzle, but we were on a rampage. Memory after dormant memory tumbled from our little minds, as if the jar of flashback was rattled and opened loose. While some brought smiles, a few jerked tears. Like the turbulent relationship between my dad and sister during her growing years. Like how at one point in time, bogged down by expectations and tired of comparisons, she chose to move out and study away from home. How the feelings between two sisters oscillated between love and plain disdain as we battled our differences and learnt to accept the way we were.

"I still don't know what to talk to him", she said, with downcast eyes. "There is always this distance."

It pains me, to think that we might have failed, as parents and older sister, to stand by her for who she was. We could have done better, I guess.

That day, as we chatted away, it was just two sisters, leading their own independent lives, devoid of all influence and comparison, taking a trip down the memory lane, dusting cobwebs off forgotten memories, realizing together that they had been blessed with a great childhood despite all the odds.

It felt good. Very good.

 



The day we first went to school together |  The day she got married.

PS : Pardon me for using unfamiliar words. That's the only way I could keep it close to what it actually was. I am giving a brief explanation for some terms used.

Chudva - A snack made of rice flakes
Antakshari - A group game where songs are sung starting with the letter the previous participant ended his song with.
Poli - Bread (Roti/Chapati)



 

The Revival

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

They were out for a walk again. It was late in the night, probably after dinner, but it was safe enough to take a stroll. Anand and Riya were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice their neighbor friend Katya waving at them from her balcony.

"Such love birds they are! Cute couple. I wish my marriage had the charm.." Katya sighed as she gave up trying to catch their attention and went back to her nightly humdrum.

It was a full moon night and there was a gentle breeze, ruffling Riya's long hair like they show in the movies. It was a perfect romantic setting, but neither seemed to care.

Their hands brushed for an instant and she longed for his hold. She hoped fervently for the moment to freeze and wished he would take her hand into his, just like he did eight years ago. But nothing happened. He wasn't affected by the touch. He didn't share the same yearning as she did. But he did share the fear that it might all be coming to an end. Is that all there is to us, was the question both were trying to figure out an answer for, in the stillness of the night.The moon kept a watch over them, as if it was interested in knowing where all this would lead to.

Their relationship had hit a rocky patch. They found themselves arguing for every small thing in the world and neither was ready to mellow down. The list of "I-don't-like-this-about-you' started coming out more in the open and seemed endless, the tolerance levels of each dipping below ground zero. The magic that brought them together seemed to have evaporated just like that. Now both found themselves staring at an uncertain future, a future that might not have the other in it anymore. Each time they had a fight, they came out for a walk in a bid to resolve it. This was their third in this week and it was only Thursday.

It all started when Riya said she wasn't too excited about their anniversary. "We are not where
we should have been, after 6 years of being together. We are drifting apart."

And sadly, Anand didn't seem to disagree this time.

"What do you want to do?", Anand initiated. "Do you think its over between us?", he stammered, clearly unable to digest the fact.

"I guess we should give ourselves some time. We both shouldn't expect us to get better overnight. The damage is way too deep."

"What do you suggest then?"

"I think we are losing patience with each other. I am the same, and you have been the same, but our tolerance has reduced. I read somewhere that "Patience with family is love". So shall we try being more patient with each other?"

"Okay, its a start.."

The good thing about them was they always talked, faced the problem headlong, how much ever distasteful that might be. They realized any relationship needed a lot of work and attention, for it to grow strong. They read books. Found blogs that gave relationship advice and gave space to each other. Basically, they invested in each other.

~~~

Eight weeks later, when they were out for a walk again, and their fingers brushed lightly, he took her hands into his. This time, it felt very different, as if they found themselves again. The moon kept a watch and Katya swooned from her balcony yet again.

                                                            

PS : This post has been selected for W.O.W. !

 

Y - Yearning

What do we generally yearn for? More money? Success? Acceptance from society? Appreciation? Acknowledgement of our efforts? Some words of encouragement? During a workshop I attended a few months ago, something remained in my mind. That we always look for acceptance and appreciation from the people that surround us. What we choose to do is mostly(80% of the times) driven by how the society would perceive us, would people appreciate it and will they encourage us. I had never thought about it before but I realized this may be true. In our sub-conscious minds, we always yearn for some kind of acknowledgement of our efforts. Everyone has this underlying need to be appreciated by a sect of people they think are important to them.Whatever be the ultimate goal, these are the little important things along the way that keep us going.

But when it is our turn, how many times do we actually appreciate people? How many times have we eyed her pretty new shoes or said 'he plays so well' in our heads but never directly to that person? How many times we felt inspired by someone we know, but never let them know? How many times someone touched you and helped you unwittingly, either with their writing or casual words or their actions, but you never thanked them? When I think about myself, I am guilty of not doing it often. I hold myself back for some reason. I read so many beautiful blogs, am in awe of so many women out there who write exceptionally well, have amazing imagination and humor, but I never used to leave a comment for them. I don't know the reason, it has more to do with me feeling worthless about myself. My thinking is usually on the lines of 'yeah she writes amazingly well and she sure does know it. How will my saying anything change anything? And I will look dumb if I don't say something clever'. So I stop myself. Not just in the writing sphere. I remember never having told Meena how she inspires me and helped me in being what I am today. I never thanked my bosses for giving me the opportunities they did, supporting me at every step, and for letting me be honest about my interests and shortcomings. I never told the Zumba teacher I raved about so much in two of my posts how much I like her energy. Why is it so hard to form words from my feelings?

Not anymore. I realized how beautiful saying it out is during my A-Z challenge. I got encouragement from unexpected people. There were so many people who pinged me over chat or personally told me how some of my posts were close to their hearts, or how they were looking forward to my next lettered posts! That left me feeling good about myself and motivated me like nothing else. I was more driven and wanted to do better. I felt so good about them too, for having come all the way out to be vocal about their thoughts. I realized it is such a wonderful gesture. A big thank you to you! I am here, at 'Y' only because of what you did.

I am being more vocal now. For the first time, I wrote out a long email to a person I have never met or talked to. Shailaja, the owner of her blog Shailajav.in. Her imagination is amazing, you should read her last year's AtoZ posts. She is a great inspiration and comes across as a very down to earth person. I also dropped an email to PeeVee of Cookiecrumbsinc.com and told her I start my day by reading her blog. And I am going to ping Christina and tell her I absolutely loved her Zumba classes!

From now on, I am going to say it out loud to people instead of saying it in my heart.



PS : There is a catch here. You don't have to appreciate or praise at the drop of a hat. It has to be genuine. People will know when you are saying for the heck of it and when you really mean it. Appreciate something or someone when you genuinely feel touched or amazed.