My Picture Stories

A picture is worth a thousand words. Sometimes, a picture could totally change a vague idea into a very real breathing and kicking thing, assuming a life of its own, completely occupying you, consuming you whole – body, mind, and soul.

Mine is a typical arranged marriage. You arrive at a “marriageable age”. Your parents talk to you and put out a word about your “availability” in their social circles. And you wait…

Then finally, a few weeks later, they find a “nice” boy. They match your ages, heights, horoscopes, and a whole load of crap that’s to be matched. And then, you exchange photographs.

When his photograph arrived, a few people at home looked at it before I did. They started throwing around these random judgments – he's cute, he's handsome, nice, tall, etcetera, etcetera…

So, my indifference slips a little bit and I get a little curious. Finally, I open the laptop and while his picture loads, my family throw in more appreciative adjectives for my benefit. Amidst all this hubbub, I look at his picture and decide – well, they are not wrong. He is one attractive man. It’s a waist length photograph. He’s in this red and white shirt, posing for the camera, smiling and all…

He had a very gentle and pleasant smile and I wonder “what's he smiling at”, though I knew that he was just posing for a photo.

He had thick and black curly hair which was well-groomed and I wonder “Did he get a hair-cut done specially for this picture?”

His arms are long and strong-looking and I wonder what his touch would feel like.

While going to bed that night, I wonder if he was going to bed too. While having breakfast next morning, I wonder what's his favorite dish. I wonder what movies he likes to watch, what books he likes to read. I wonder what his kind of vacation is. At every moment, I would think – What is he doing right now, at this exact moment? Is he eating, is he working, is he sleeping? Does he know I am thinking about him?

All of a sudden, he was this real, living, breathing person whose existence I was not aware till now, who I had never met till date, yet strangely, could not get out of my head. Not that I wanted to, of course. I shamelessly admit – I was obsessed. I was obsessed and I just couldn’t wait to meet this stranger.

Fast forward six years. I’m married to this stranger, we have an adorable little boy, who’s also a brat sometimes. And now, we register to legally adopt a girl child. We fill up a truck load of forms, face innumerable interviews, finish another truck load of formalities and then, we wait…

Here again, they match your requirements with the available children and finally, a few years later, there’s a match – a nine-month old baby girl! While speaking to the Children’s home about the baby, I hear some appreciative adjectives – she’s very cute, she’s extremely active, healthy, adorable... My nerves are a wreck (well, I can’t tell you how nervous I was) when I opened the laptop and saw her picture and I decide – well, they are not wrong – She’s one adorable little munchkin.

It was a tiny passport size picture. She had little almond-shaped eyes looking not towards the camera, but towards a side and I wonder “What is she looking at? What’s there that grabbed her attention?”

She had thin little lips, forming just a hint of a smile and I wonder “What’s got her so amused?”

On her head were just a few brownish strands set slickly on her head with a couple sticking out awkwardly from one side and I wonder “Has some one combed her hair back so slickly or is her hair prim and proper always?”

While having dinner that evening, I wonder what she liked to eat – is she a fussy eater? While going to bed at night, I wonder if she likes to hear lullabies at bedtime. I wonder if she liked to play peek-a-boo or would it scare her. I wonder if she has a favorite toy, I wonder what she likes to play, I wonder if she smiles a lot. At every moment, I would think – What is she doing now, right at this exact moment? Is she eating, is she sleeping, is she playing? Does she know I am thinking about her?

All of a sudden, she was this real, living, breathing person, albeit a little person, whose existence I was not aware till now, who I had never met till date, yet strangely, could not get out of my head. Not that I wanted to of course. I admit I was obsessed. I was obsessed and I just couldn’t wait to meet my little stranger.

Come back home, my dear

The sun dips lower in the sky, taking along my hope

A darkness descends, wrapping my world in its envelope

His arrival I await, at home, sitting at the threshold

Fearing the worst, trying to brave an internal cold

From the darkness emerges a darker form - an unsteady silhouette

I am not sure if I it is my imagination - it sways like a stringless puppet

I look sharply for a sign, any sign that says - no, he has been strong

My heart knows the truth, but I still hope to God - please prove me wrong

As he stumbles closer, the strong whiff is unmistakable

Oh, may be he has just had one or may be a couple

And there are his bloodshot eyes - as red as my sindhoor

The dreadful proof that he had, again, surrendered to the lure

I could just push him off a cliff right now, give him so much pain

I could rip his face apart, beat him black and blue with a cane

I could slap him, cry out to him, scold and cuss

For letting this happen to him, to me, and to us

I stare at him maliciously, witnessing his blood red eyes drooping with shame

For letting his demons get him again, for letting the evil liquid win the game

I weep silent tears aware of his silent cry for help, for understanding and for care

For good or for bad, I am with him and this fight against his addiction, we both share

Your Silent Heart to Mine...

You are a wonder, what goes on in your mind is a puzzle

Deciphering you, for me, was once upon a time a hassle

But now, I know your little secret which gives you away

Your beautiful eyes show everything that you cannot say

I stare into them, right into the depths of your heart

In the silence, I hear them speak to me and they tell me a lot

Your voice fails you, but your eyes never

I notice everything from a hesitant blink to the slightest flutter

When you are angry, they look like tiny balls of fire

In a peaceful time, a silent and comfortable look they acquire

The lashes, dark, long, and lush

Droop onto your eyes, when all you can do is blush

You are elated and I see them smiling with bliss

They pose endless questions when you are confused and find something amiss

Silent tears of pain at the corners show an intense anguish

A funny look your eyes wear, when you feel silly or foolish

Everybody calls you ill-fated

Some evil force had his wicked desire sated

You are not given a voice to speak out loud

But for me, your eyes are the biggest gifts with which you are endowed

Official Mistress

‘My lady, your loss is too great,’ she hears a gentle voice

Some compassionate mourner, someone trying to be nice

To acknowledge the greeting, she turns to the side

Yet, surprised she is to find no one there, except for her gloomy aide

Then it struck her, she wasn’t the Duchess, not the Duke’s wife

She has a label ‘the official mistress,’ though she loved him with her life

Mourners glide towards the Duchess, expressing their sympathy

While the mistress gets only awkward glances, disapproving stares, without the presence of any empathy

True! She had not vowed in front of God to be true to him in sickness and health

Yet, she had cared for him, with a heart pure, full of love, and no stealth

She was there for him during his good times and the bad ones too

She belonged only to him, her heart was pure, and her love was true

Now near the grave, the Duchess stands with her son, out of duty

A perfect widow, a picture of grief, yet manages elegance and beauty

She was the wife of a Duke and is now the mother of one

She looks at the mistress, her eyes mocking, ‘See now, who has won!’

Consoling herself that she has not yet lost everything

The mistress pats lovingly her belly, the only thing to which she has to cling

So what if she is the Duke’s mistress and what if she does mother a bastard

She walks out of the grave, holds her head high – a skill that she has, by now, mastered


Inspired from The Tudors - The plight of Charles Danton's mistress

Going Back Home...

Their eyes twinkle when they see me. I am aware of their hearts leaping with a bittersweet ache, for here, my own heart reacts similarly. All of a sudden, I forget that I am a woman, all grown-up. I go back in time, becoming a little child all over again. I fly straight into my mom’s arms, just like how I always did, when I came back from school. I embrace my dad, just like how I used to do every evening, after he came back from work. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them now, do I realize how much I miss them…

It jumps onto me and licks my face entirely, the moment it catches my scent. Though it does not have a mouth as large as mine, I know its heart is screaming noiselessly. The poor creature does not even understand why I had to leave and tend to myself. All of a sudden, I forget the fact that I had been away for so long. I play with it, allowing it to pull me and push me as much as it likes. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at it, do I realize how much I miss it…

They come in bustling, as noisy as always, and give me bear hugs, rough and playful, just like how they used to be when we had lived together under the same roof. All of a sudden, I forget that we don’t do it any longer. I join them in the loud laughter, the ear-splitting music and awkward dancing, without any restraint, without a shame. These are my siblings, who knew my most embarrassing secrets. I am aware that their feelings and thoughts at this moment are the same as mine. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them, do I realize how much I miss them… 

My old room is just the way I had left it. It’s just that it felt a little empty now, as all the stuff that I really cared for; I had carried off it with me. Yet, the moment I step in, I feel as if the room has come alive. All of a sudden, I forget that it is no more the room I used to dance in, without a care in the world, without inhibitions. Automatically, my feet move and I do a jig, just like how I used to do frequently. I still have my privacy in this little hub of mine. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at it now, do I realize how much I miss it…

 They giggle and grin, as always, when they look at me. We hug each other and tease each other. Someone has her hair too short. Someone has grown a paunch. All of a sudden, I forget that we hardly hang out these days. We relentlessly pull each other’s legs, just like how we used to do, when we hung out, every day, without fail. These are my friends, who had been with me, through thick and thin, crying over my shoulder when they needed it and offering me their shoulder, when I needed it. For now, here we are reminiscing past memories. The tears which follow are inevitable. Only when I look at them, do I realize how much I miss them…   

Letting Go…

She lay on the bed, weak and cold

Spending her last few moments in this world

And I try to prolong the life of her frail failing body

Making futile attempts to find some kind of remedy

She looks at me, her eyes all moist and hollow

They are begging me, ‘It does not work. Just let go!’

Her eyes say it all, though she doesn’t make a sound

She is writhing and wheeling in a pain too great and profound

But I can’t just give her up, can’t let her leave so soon

I am rather much used to her presence and not ready to feel this alone

A voice in me whispers in warning, ‘You are being selfish,

Foolishly believing in some miracle, some obscure life-saving fetish’

Now when I look into her eyes again

I am alarmed, as in them, I find a fierce rain

Red as blood, they are full of fury and extreme hatred

That look that I always avoided and dreaded

‘Let me die,’ she commands with her eyes

Transfixing me with that gaze of hers, filled with malice

In that stare, I see a murderous rage that pain brings

That demand to be freed from all the agony and worldly ailings

I pause and fixing my gaze with hers, I take a step backward

Lost in thought and retrospection and also a little bit scared

Even on her death bed, she is still the keenest

She does not miss my twinging in the least

As she sees me now, I see her look soften

She comforts me, ‘It’s OK. These things happen

Anything which has a beginning, has an ending

And surviving with that absence is all a part of learning'

Warm tears scour down, giving up

Releasing and delivering me from all the meaningless hope

As her dark eyes close slowly forever

I etch her face permanently in my mind – a memory that would part with me never

In favor of the practice of Euthanasia - mercy killing... Sometimes, giving up hope helps put your loved ones out of pain!

YOUR WRATH...

I finally took the courage to look at you
It has been so many days, but the pain was still there, clearly written on your face
Just one careless sentence and I broke your heart
Oh! What have I done?
I looked at your eyes, they were still raining fire
You looked back at me, as if daring me

I know not now how to take it back
Oh how I wish I had never said that !
How I wish we could go back to what we were!
How I wish I had used my head back then!
How I wish I could turn back time and change it all!
And Now, as I look at you, I still know not how to make amends

I want to say sorry
But I know it is too small a word to express my regret
Too small to disclose the war that is being raged inside of me
I swear I had never hated myself more
I couldn't look at you anymore and dropped my eyes, bent my head again, like a guilty prisoner
Guilty, I was! Guilty as hell!

I wanted to fall on my knees and beg for your forgiveness
But it was as if my knees are made of stone and
My voice got stuck in my throat
Oh please don't look at me like that
I feel like running away, I feel like dying
I feel like filth for hurting you

Oh please don't walk away like that
Please talk to me, please look at me
With those eyes piercing through my heart
So hard that I could feel the pain
All I need is to ask for another chance and
It wasn't supposed to be so hard

I gathered enough courage to croak, "mom"
Awkwardly, cowardly, feebly and shamefully
You looked back, still looking at me as if daring me
I deserved it and I knew it
So I went on, first stuttering, stammering and unsure
Looking here and there, avoiding those eyes of yours

But when I did glance at your face, I knew
You had been waiting for this, as much as I did
Now I looked straight into your wet eyes
I apologized, with moist eyes, I asked you for another chance
You smiled, the fire long gone from your eyes, with love and reverence in its place
As for me, I felt so light, so light that I thought I was floating in the sky!

I'M A MOTHER...

The moment I took him in my arms, the wailing stopped. It was replaced by a soft mumbling. He seemed to feel at home. The wrinkles on his face gradually softened, the frown between his eyebrows unknotted and his features registered a look of peace. He looked happy and at peace with the world. Tears ran down my cheeks as I realized that he actually knew the feel of my touch. He moved his tiny limbs feebly, unlike his earlier frail attempts to kick them frantically in the air. I didn't even know how long I'd held him. I watched on as the world's most beautiful thing fell asleep in his mother's loving arms. Right then, I knew that he is the most important thing in my whole life and the best thing that had happened to me.

We were together almost all the time. My thoughts, my world, my everything spiralled down, centered around him. I spoke with him, even though people reminded me, "he is a little baby. He wouldn't understand a thing." I paid them a deaf ear. "My son is far more intelligent than they know. He understands everything I say," was my stubborn notion. I played all sorts of silly games with him. I had spent every waking moment with him, marvelling at him, thinking what I'd done to deserve this wonderful gift. And when I slept, I had him beside me, held on to him, afraid to part with him even for the fraction of a second.

His first word was 'ma', like I'd always known and imagined and my dear little boy didn't disappoint me. The sound was like music to my ears, the sweetest thing I'd ever heard till date. I could not stop crying the whole day.

He took his first step and I clapped and jumped, pride filling my heart.

He curled his tiny fingers around mine when he slept and I thought, "I'm his saviour."

He fell down, got hurt and I felt a piercing pain that seemed to tear my heart apart.

He cried if he didn't find me beside him when he woke up and I felt happy that he missed me.

He went off to school and I missed him terribly.

He brought home an ailing puppy one day and nursed it back to health and I was moved at his kindness.

He brought home a trophy another day and I was proud of his achievement.

And then...

He brought home a couple to his buddies and I knew his horizon was expanding.

He never seemed to be alone, and I understood that there are other people in his life now.

I dutifully packed his lunch boxes. which were mostly returned uneaten and I struggled to make tastier food for him.

I quietly looked on as he drove away to parties with his friends.

I craved for his company as he hardly stayed at home now.

My heart leapt with joy when he occasionally smiled at me or when he gave me a peck on my cheek.

I wished I could be like one of his friends, and I could have some of his time. I tried to bridge the generation gap between us.

And one fine day...

He brought home a beautiful girl said, "Ma, I'm in love. I want to marry her." I looked at his innocent face and suddenly realised how quickly time has passed, how big my boy has grown. This was bound to happen and I knew it. I had always wanted it to happen. Yet, it wasn't altogether clear to me if I was happy or sad.

I was overwhelmed that he would now be a man, have a family, a wife, kids and all. Yet, the thought that another woman became a lot more important for him made a lump form in my throat. Does he still love me? I fought back tears- I wasn't sure if they were happy tears and plastered a smile across my face to show my assent, lest he would become upset with me. I felt silly, like a stupid little girl.

Joy twinkled in his eyes as he came closer to me and gave a peck on my cheek, whispered in my ear, "I love you ma. You know you are the best!" He looked at me, gratitude in his eyes. Of course, my approval does matter to him. He does love me, my dear boy!!! The best son anyone could ever have!!!

I smiled and this time, I'm smiling with pure bliss!!!

Inspired from one of the most loving mothers I had ever seen (my mother-in-law)

A SANCTUM IN SENILITY

The cool wind breezing through the window ruffled my hair and gently pushed it onto my face. I smiled, my eyes remained closed, as a couple of cool fingers touched my skin and lovingly brushed the hair off my face. I half-opened my eyes to look at them. The touch of the weak, wrinkled fingers seemed like the best thing in the world, for me, at that moment.
It was raining cats and dogs, outside. The streets were filled with water and the trees were swaying, as if dancing with merriment over the onset of monsoons. I opened my eyes and started bursting the little glistening water bubbles that formed on the window grills, listening to her soothing voice going on in its usual sing-a-song manner, as her fingers continued running through my hair. "...and then," she said, "you fell down and cried the whole day. I had to hit the floor so hard that there were cracks in the tiles and only then did you stop crying." She laughed and I looked up at her face; her toothless laughter seemed like the purest and the snow-white hair flying in all directions possible seemed the most beautiful thing in the world, for me, at that moment. I listened to her soothing voice, my head in her lap, as she went on narrating little stories about my childhood, as if they were the best things she'd ever seen.
"Is this what heaven is like?" I wondered. This woman had seen so much in her life, faced hurdles, fell down again and again, got hurt, yet, every time, she got up and fearlessly continued her journey of life.
Here she is, in the last phase of her life, full of wisdom, heart hardened with all kinds of experiences.
Yet, here she is, a little child bubbling with joy and enthusiasm unlimited, as she reveled in her memories of my childhood.
Feeding me, narrating stories of kings and queens to me, cradling my head in her laps, relaxing with me are the things that she enjoyed the most.
I was lost in my thoughts and then gradually dozed off into a light sleep right there in her lap and occasionally in my sleep, listening to her still going on and on about the first time she had fed me baby food or laughing at the silly jokes that I had cracked back then...


Inspired from my Grandmother, my friend, philosopher and guide, the best grandmother in the world!

ARCHAIC ROMANCE...

"We'll be back soon, mom!"
"See you grandpa"
"Bye, granny"
I stood there, on the porch, waving happily. He stood beside me, doing the same, smiling. My bigger children sauntered down the walkway, noisily, chatting, joking and laughing as their children- my grandchildren skipped and hopped around their respective parents. The air was charged and lively. I just caught a glimpse of my youngest daughter, who was now eight months pregnant, clasping her husband's arm as he led her on slowly and my eldest son slapping the youngest one playfully on his back and the whole group erupted in another fit of laughter, as they rounded the corner and disappeared.
Silence...
I stood for a few seconds looking at nothing in particular, smiling contentedly and turned to him to make some remark on how nice our kids had turned out to become. But the porch was empty. He was gone. I hadn't realized when he had gone in, so noiselessly. Didn't he share the wondrous sight i had just enjoyed? Or didn't he care?
A not-so-uncommon remark of my feminist sister crossed my mind. "Men," she said, "are emotionally dead human beings."
I walked back into the house, into the bedroom, deep in contemplation, to check on the twins. The twins- a boy and a girl, only a few moths old, belonged to one of my daughters. They were left behind under my care. The original plan, an evening walk for my pregnant daughter and her husband, when materialized, embraced everybody else, leaving out the two too young and two too old people in the house.
I stared at the twins sleeping peacefully, marveling at them, when I spotted a faint smile on the boy's sleeping face. I was overwhelmed. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but my grandchild had the same smile- the smile I had grown addicted to, after all these years. It was 'his' smile. Now, I looked closer searching for any other similarities between the little boy and his grandfather. There was a sound outside and when I turned back, I realized that it was soft music. As the much familiar notes filled the air, I sprinted into the living room. It was a mess-ribbons, balloons, remains of food strewn all over. The huge banner screaming, "WELCOME INTO THE FAMILY, TWINS!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!" was half trailing on the floor, its other end still managed to hang on to the temporary support on the wall. Amidst all this turmoil, he stood there, as if unaffected by it, oblivious to it, his eyes on me, smiling. Looking at his smile now, I was surer that it had passed on to his grandson.
"Remember the song?" his voice barged into my thoughts. Of course! Could I ever forget it? This was the song we loved to dance to. This was the song we had first danced to. Hell, this was the song we had ever danced to. But it was so many years ago. Back then, I was young, energetic, beautiful. Now, I was old, tired and well... not so beautiful.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice when he had walked towards me and stretched out his hand and said the famous words, "Ma'am, dance?" His first words I'd ever heard, many years back. Then, I was a lot shy and hesitant. Now, though I was shy, I was sure and happy to oblige.
He gently took my hand, placed it over his shoulder and I buried my face in the hollow of his neck, feeling against my cheek, his steady pulse-a contradiction to an erratic one, back then. I felt his arms tightening around me, the same way as they had always done, as if protecting me from the world. The strength of his embrace was still the same. He held my palm against his and out fingers locked as we gently rocked to and fro to the rhythm.
I looked at his fingers and the back of his hand. The skin was wrinkled. I smiled. He was old! Who am I kidding? Am I growing any younger? I looked at his face and eyes were looking at me as if questioning my amusement. I kissed him on his cheek and said in whisper, "I love you, old man."
He smiled. "I know," he said and touched the tip of my nose lightly. I immediately wrinkled it, involuntarily, something in which, he found a great amusement. He laughed out loud and said, "you are cute" and I blushed.
It was all the same. All these years passed by and changed so much in our lives. The only thing that was left untouched was probably the way we felt for each other.
There were times when we had fought for each other, there were times when we had fought against each other.
There were times when we'd wanted to take a break from each other, there were times when we'd wanted to take a break from the world, to be alone with each other.
Some times we'd drifted apart from each other. But then, at the end of the day, we'd come home to each other.
We had laughed together, enjoyed the happy times together.
We had cried together, found solace in each other's company during the hard times.
All that we'd faced together had only succeeded in strengthening the bond that we shared. Nothing could ruffle it. Nobody could meddle with it.
I danced with him as always, losing myself in him, losing track of time.
I was shook out of my thoughts when I heard a noise.
"Looks like the kids are back," he grumbled, impatiently. I smiled and said slowly, still holding him tight, "I thought of cleaning up this mess before they came home."
He immediately broke away from me. " Don't ask me to help. I'm tired." And off he went. I gritted my teeth as I remembered another one of my sister's frequent remarks. "Men," she said, "are the laziest class of human beings."

THE FLYING TIME...

They bring a smile onto the lips
They bring tears into the eyes
The echo of sweet voices reverberating in the ears
And then, an involuntary and heavy sigh
The time could have stood still, but it just flew by...

That running in the green pastures with their little white blossoms
That ignoring the broken twigs tearing and scratching tiny bare feet
That tripping and falling, being helped up onto the feet again
That squealing joyfully, singing and racing across hand-in-hand
The time could have stood still, but it just flew by...

That pouring over the year's books just one day before the exam
That waiting tensly for the inevitable 'death sentence'
That crying over someone's shoulder dreading failure
That partying hard into the night celebrating success
The time could have stood still, but it just flew by...

That sharing a secret joke across the table strewn with unhealthy food
That burst of laughter at one of the friends, who stared humiliated
That springing of surprises, endless gossiping, dancing and howling into the sleepless night
That tearful farewell, those kisses, hugs, tears and more tears
The time could have stood still, but it just flew by...

That first crush, a boundless attraction, those knowing winks, oohs and aahs
That game of secret admiration, eying one another
That naked bathing in the moon light on an eerily dreamy night
That falling in and out of love and that heart-break
The time could have stood still, but it just flew by...

Those reminiscences...
Just one step back in the past
There are so many of them, to last a life time
Those memories...
Just one look back at the life lived
There are still so fresh unaffected by the flying time

THE PERFECT ARRANGEMENT...

Major part of our country's population is opting for arranged marriages. Reason: I am not sure either, as I am not an analyst or a psychologist. But I guess it is because Indians, many of them, if not all, heart-in heart, do not want to change the age-old traditions. However, I was never interested in a marriage arranged by my parents. It is not that I don't trust them, but it is because I didn't like the idea at all. I always thought love happens, naturally. It should and can never be arranged. And also, what do my parents know about what kind of a guy I want. So, I had set out searching for my 'natural love.' I had tried everything under the sky. I had gone out with a few, had made new friends, I searched faces desperately and even went to the extent of blind dating. But no! I'd never found anyone who had interested me enough for a second meeting at least. My parents, naturally, were worried.
"How long do you choose to stay unmarried?" my father asked me one night, quite abruptly. Such situations were not entirely new to me and I tried to cut him off.
"Listen!" he said, this time, a little stern, "I don't understand what you have got against arranged marriages."
"Dad, I told you this so many times," I tried to reason with him, "it sounds like a business deal and I don't my life to be settled like one."
"If you fee that way," my dad continued, making it clear to me that this time, he is not going to give up that easily, "do you think there is no love in our marriage? Don't you believe that your mother and I love each other. Ours was an arranged marriage, you know?"
But, I was not convinced. "Dad, you lived in a different time. Times change dad. Today, the whole perspective of marriage has changed..." I was about to say something else.
But, my dad snapped, "nothing has changed." Looking at my expression, he seemed to soften up a little. He continued softly, "there is my friend's son..."
"Oh no!" I interjected, "not again!"
"Please," he said more persuasively, "at least, listen to me. We think he is perfect for you. Just meet him once. Just once. If you don't like him, I promise you, I'll never try to convince you again in this matter."
I thought for a moment.
I wasn't sure, for a moment, which one was more attractive- was it the promise that dad made or was it my anxiety to see which kind of a man my parents thought would be perfect for me. I couldn't wait to prove them wrong. After all, they dint know what I actually wanted!
Somehow, what ever the reason was, I agreed to go out with 'the perfect guy.'
I was dressed quite plainly and dint take any special effort to look beautiful. All I was interested in was to get this ordeal done with, rush home and voice my rejection of my parent's 'perfect guy.'
It turned out I was partly right. When he arrived, he neither took my breath away, nor made my heart skip a beat. He was just like this ordinary-looking guy, who wouldn't turn many heads.
"Strike one!" I thought, triumphantly. How could my parents even think we would fit in together? He smiled uncertainly and let his hand out to introduce himself. His grip was firm. But, nah! The handshake was so business -like. And that was what I loathed the most- making marriage a 'business.'
But when he had started talking, a little reservedly at first, and then more openly later, in spite of myself, I was a little amused. And then, he smiled. Hmmm... he actually didn't look that bad when he smiled. In fact, if I had met him at another place, at another time, under different circumstances, I would have called him attractive. But now, he is my parent's choice. He couldn't be that good. Or could he?
As time progressed, I couldn't help enjoying myself more and more. Soon, I became aware of a contradiction to my earlier thoughts shaping up in my mind. He was actually good, very good. What surprised me the most was how much alike we both were. My father wasn't joking when he had said, 'perfect for me.' And until now, I wasn't aware that my parents knew so much about me, so much that they have chosen this man for me.
I couldn't be more sorry when the meeting (or I would rather call it a really lovely date) was over. With all my thoughts turned topsy-turvy, I let him drive me home. I shyly bade him good night and disappeared into my room, without even a word for my anxious parents. That was my ego!
But truly speaking, I couldn't wait for out next meeting, which I suspected wasn't far away.
A few weeks later, one night, after yet another great evening, at my door, he said a little hesitantly, "I should tell you something." I was a little alarmed at the tone of his voice, as I didn't want anything to spoil what we were having. Now, all I wanted to do was to admit to my parents that I was wrong and they were right, absolutely right! Oh! how right they were!
"I was really not very interested in meeting you, in the beginning," he said, evidently trying to put his words carefully and he added hastily, "only in the beginning, not now." He searched my face and said slowly, "I always felt love should come, all by itself. No can can set it up. But, my parents..." I needn't listen to the rest. I smiled and could feel it growing by the time he finished, "I didn't think I would say this to a girl after knowing her for such a little time but," he paused, moved nearer to me, as my heart started beating wildly, "but I think I'm falling in love...I am falling in love with you."
Only a few months later, we were married.

A BROKEN PROMISE...

“We’ll always be in touch,” we promised each other, amidst tears, “we’ll keep meeting every week.”

That was the day when we officially drifted apart.

These were the faces I had been seeing almost every day, for the past few years. These were the people, with whom I had shared joy and pain all these days. These are my friends, God’s present for me. All these years, my life had revolved pretty much around them.

I’d always thought we were inseparable. No one can ever tear us apart. Nothing could ever come in between us.

We were friends- the world’s best friends. I thought. When we had to go on in our separate ways, I was sad, of course! But, did it really matter? We can always keep ‘in touch!’ and also, there was that promise that we’d meet every week.

What I didn’t foresee was that the weeks would turn into months, and months into years. All of us got ‘unnaturally busy’ with our own lives, so busy that days passed and there came a point when we actually lost ‘touch.’ We no longer know what’s going in each other’s lives. The promise broke.

Even today, I keep wondering where all those magical moments had gone, when we all spent blissfully in each other’s company, where all the laughter had gone, where the magic bond that had kept us together had vanished.

Do my ‘friends’ feel the same way? Do they think about me? Do they miss me? Do they at least remember me? I have no way of knowing.

Somebody was so true when he said, “Life is like a train journey.” The person sitting right next to you is just a fellow passenger aboard. He might accompany you till the end of the journey or descend in the middle, and leave you to complete the rest of your journey alone.

IN THE HEART'S CORNER...

I sat at the window looking out of it. The evening forecast had proclaimed a rough whether and the weather was solemn enough to keep its promise. The winds were wild and it looked as if it would rain any minute now. The condition of the whether somehow, matched the tormented thoughts running through my mind. I pulled together my loose hair into a tight knot, simultaneously trying to pull my thoughts together too. I comfortably leaned against the soft cushion and continued looking outside. This was my favorite corner in my house. It had been since I was a very young girl. I looked around, drawing in the familiar sights surrounding me. The walls of my room are adorned with photographs. I had my books piled in a corner. And there was my study table, a witness to all my endeavors to become what I am today. I turned my attention back to the photographs that always reminded me of those sweet memories I'd compiled in the twenty two years of my life- my eleventh birthday, freaking out with my best friends, my graduation day, a fun trip I'd gone with my family and so on... I looked up at the tingling wind chime hanging from the window and smiled, sadly. I loved it, though the others in my family complained about 'the noise that thing makes.' I had always thought that it added a feminine touch to my room. Yes, this was my room, my favorite place in the whole world and this was my favorite corner, at the window, which I'd made with my own little hands, many years ago. I always sat here, thinking and humming the tunes of my favorite songs. Many a time, I slept into peaceful repose here. Now, as I sat here, brooding, a tiny tear rolled down my cheek. Why? I asked myself. Why do we get so much attached to things, lifeless things, in spite of knowing that they are not permanent?
I shook myself out of my reverie. I tried to reason with myself. Its not a time to be sad. In fact, I should be happy now. I'm getting married in a few days, to the man I'd wanted all my life. Yes! I should be happy and contented. of course, I'm happy. I'm excited about the new life that lay ahead of me. Somehow, the thought of loosing all that I'd owned all my life, the things, which I held very close to my heart and the grief that it had brought clouded my happiness and excitement. It'd never be the same again.
Will I ever be able to sleep in my bed again?
Will I ever be able to roam about my beautiful little house, singing loudly?
Will I be able to sit with my very dear family at dinner, laughing, as I'd done all my life?
Will I ever be able to sit on the porch with my friends, gossiping, cracking silly jokes and teasing each other?
No! It'd never be the same again. I let out a deep sigh...
Change is inevitable. I remembered what my mother told me once. Change is one of the most important ingredients of life. It is one of the forces that keeps life going on.
May be, its true! But then, why cant we welcome it open-armed always? Why do fee happy and sad at the same time? Well, I don't know the answer for that. All I know now, is that, whether I like it or not, 'CHANGE IS INEVITABLE!'




Inspired from my home in Dilsukhnagar, Hyderabad

BEST ENEMIES!!!

I looked on as the bright lights of the terminal gradually disappeared at a distance. As we sped away from the airport, a sadness swept over me, filling my inside. I felt as if I was loosing something dear. It felt funny. I had never felt like this before about my brother. I tried to focus…

We never had any pleasant times together. It was just that we grew up together, lived under the same roof and shared similar genes. And yeah…we fought, owing to the tiny age gap between us. And we ‘fought like dogs,’ my mother used to say.

A slight drizzle started outside and I felt tiny wet drops sprinkling against my skin. I closed the window and sat back again, thinking.

The rain…we played in the rain as small kids, jumping, splashing water on each other. But somehow, at last, we usually ended up crying or making each other cry. I smiled…remembering the day we fought in rain, doubled up in a muddy water puddle, in the back yard. When my mother found us, she gave us nice thrashing followed by a warm bath and a clean set of clothes. The next day, both of us fell ill…

When it was cold, we snuggled up, close to each other like little cute puppies. But once we woke up, the story repeated itself.

On his eleventh birthday, I had burnt his hand and as a revenge, on my birthday, which actually came only a few days later, he messed up my cake, before my friends came over. Wow! We were enemies!!!

We fought for everything. We fought for our parents. We fought for the TV.

As we grew up and became less violent, the only interaction we had too vanished. However, my brother actually started guiding me, helping me with my studies and career.

I looked at my parents-dad silently driving and mom with her eyes closed, a tiny tear materializing at one end of her eye: she is apparently thinking about her son, my brother.

I was startled and shook out of my thoughts by the vibration of my phone. Clearing my voice, I softly said into it, “hello!”

“Its me,” he said. The very sound of his voice moistened my eyes. God! I’m crying!

“Just wanted to say,” he continued, awkwardly, “I’ll miss you, sis.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I crocked and then less awkwardly I said, “I love you, bro!”

Well, he is my brother and I love him! Of course we never had any pleasant times together. Or did we?!


Inspired from a my best friend's experience :) Thanks Amu for sharing it with me. Luv U!!

DAD'S ANGEL...

There she was, standing amidst the beautiful flowers, looking prettier than the flowers themselves.She is my only daughter-my angel, the most striking girl I had ever known."She is no longer a girl," my wife often remarks, mockingly, "she is a woman now."But for my eyes, she is still that little, milk-toothed girl, wearing a small red frock, two little pony tails tied up with two little red ribbons, waving to me, tearfully as she walked into her school.I can never forget the day, when I first took her tiny frame in my arms and couldn't help,but awe at her resemblance to my own mother (I had lost her when I was very young).I had been grateful to my wife ever since she had gifted me with this tiny creature- the creature that absorbed all my time and thoughts. I had planned with extreme care and sincerity and worked ferociously to make her future more secure. Working for her sake gave me an immense happiness and satisfaction I had never dreamed possible.I ardently wished to be the only audience for her first step, her first word, or in fact, her first anything.Much to my surprise (I would rather say I was shocked), in spite of the amount of time I had spent with her, her first utterance was 'mama.' Not dada! But mama! My wife beamed at her and I just stayed quiet.She was so full of wonders and surprises. Everything she did was an achievement-her fist day at school, her first trophy, her first bicycle ride, her father's day greeting card (I always took pride in it as she made it with her own little hands.)And I was her 'Super dad'!...the greatest hero in her life, and an 'all-knower'. I was her best friend. She was as proud of me as I was of her. She was the loveliest and the most adorable child any father could ever have. Somehow, I had failed to realize that this phase was transient. As she stepped into her teens, her world widened. As her world widened, I became more and more insignificant, though her place in my life remained undeterred.She kept secrets from me...She was reluctant to let me into her room, which was almost always filled with her friends. Before I knew what was happening, the distance between us grew. "She needs privacy." Her mother always seemed to understand her. It was at this particular time that she had gifted me, on 'Father's day", a beautiful photograph that we had taken together."I love you, dad," she said, tears in her eyes. I was elated to learn that she still loves her father. It was one of those rare moments when I had tears in my eyes. She added, "Super dads don't cry."We spent the entire day together and it dawned on me that her priorities had changed over time and it was quite natural. I started coping up with this change. Suddenly, my daughter was a woman.When she was twenty five, she wanted to get married (that was the biggest shock I had ever got)."She is too young, " I argued with my wife and the 'practical thinker' laughed and said, "I was younger than her when we had her. Stop being an over possessive father, dear." She tried to put some sense in my mind.Now, as my daughter stood amidst the flowers looking beautiful than ever, in her bridal wear, smiling at me I prayed silently for her, asking God to shower all the happiness on her. I never realized that she was beside me, when she whispered playfully in my ear-"Super dad is praying for his daughter. God bless him."


Inspired from the movie 'Father of the Bride'

THE PAIN AND THE PLEASURE...

I was tired- very, very tired. In fact, I was never so tired in my life. Every part of my body was throbbing and aching, bringing back the memories of the dreadful experience I just had.
Dreadful-was it? Yes. And not just that, but more than that. I had never known that such a pain existed and even if it did, I didn't think I would endure it and still be alive.
As I recollected it, a chill ran down my spine and I was shivering. I could sense a batch of fresh beads of perspiration on my forehead.
I fought with myself, trying hard to stay awake. But my eyes, in spite of my anguishing cries from within, persisted. They wanted to close.
I was waiting, waiting desperately, fighting with myself to stay awake. Unfortunately, the wait turned out to be longer than what I had anticipated. It was only a few minutes-I learnt later. But I felt it was the longest wait of my life.
Finally, I saw it. There it was completely and neatly wrapped up and small.
My arms barely had any strength. Still, I took it trying very hard to steady my shaking hands, trying to silence the tremors all over my body.
Then, I looked at it. The very first sight of it whisked off rapidly all the pain and exhaustion I had felt till then. I was smiling, smiling out of pure happiness. And whats more-I was very much sober, wide awake.
It was undoubtedly, the most beautiful thing I had ever set my eyes on. It made me so happy that I felt like screaming out and jumping with joy. I was on cloud nine.
I loved it...Yes, I did...May be, this is what they call 'Love at first sight'. I smiled again. My love for it is fierce and protective. 'I would never let it go through any harm-never!' I swore to myself. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at it again and again, afraid to loose it's sight even for the briefest moment, at the calm and serene beauty of the small, deeply set eyes, small tightly shut mouth and the small fidgety limbs of my First Born!!!!