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

Is it really all gone?

The initial magic has worn off. They are now just a boring middle-aged couple, each caught up in his or her own daily lives. Gone are the good morning kisses, the starry-eyed staring at each other, rambling on and on in each others arms late at night, and all the other things that consumed almost half of the ‘honey moon years’.

She longs for those little gestures that used to make her days, made her feel wanted, made her feel loved, made her feel alive. Had she not vowed, as a teenager, that she would never let this happen to her life? Wasn't she determined never to get bored of her marriage?

She forgot how it felt to have butterflies in her stomach. She forgot how it felt to snuggle close to him on cold winter nights. She forgot the fun of pillow fights. 

How many days has it been since they spoke of something other than news during breakfast?

How many years has it been since they had called each other during work for something other than to remind each other of an unfinished chore?

How many evenings has it been since they sat together for something other than to watch the television?

How many nights has it been since they actually ‘shared’ a bed?

The sharp ringing of her phone snaps her out of her sad reverie. It is him calling.

But surprisingly, it is not his voice. She hears an anxious voice of a stranger. He is sympathetic and tries to break the news about the fateful accident as gently as possible. As he goes on rambling about how the accident happened, she blanks out, the phone falls off her sweaty palms, and she collapses on the ground.

How could this have happened? How could he be gone? What would happen to her now? Her mind becomes a mirage of confused feelings, coming and going.

Who would give her news briefs during breakfast in the morning?

Who would call her during work and remind her of an unfinished chore?

Who would she watch the television with, during evenings?

Who would she find beside her, when she wakes up in the middle of the night?

Oh, what would she not give up to have him back in her life! She didn't want any butterflies in her stomach or the silly pillow fights. She just wants him back!

She is oblivious to her phone that is still ringing and the impatient knocking on the door. She loses track of time and doesn't even know how long she sat there, sobbing and regretting. Suddenly, she sees an apparition, his apparition, in front of her. 

Is it a dream!?

She stands up and rushes into his arms. His palms smooth her hair, comfortingly till she comes back to her senses.

He is not an apparition, she realizes as sense dawns upon her. He is alive! Very much alive! He is here, in flesh and blood! 

But the phone call…? She is very confused! She is blabbering incoherently.

‘Honey! Someone stole my phone in the afternoon,’ he explains and tears of relief stream down her eyes. They are lost for words and fall asleep in each others arms.

The next morning…

As usual, the persistent alarm wakes them up. They hurry through their chores and before long; they are at the breakfast table.

As she listens to her husband’s news briefing, a line that she had read in a book years ago strikes her:

“Early love is filled with attraction. It is like a flower of a plant. It is beautiful, but it is delicate and fragile.

The love that comes later on is filled with responsibility. It is like the root of a plant. You may not be able to see it and it is not beautiful like the flower. But, do not forget that it supports and nourishes your entire life!”

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

Stranger in her Bed...

Her eyes full of sorrow, a part of her heart weeps, as she leaves behind her
Everything she's owned, everybody she knew - mother, father, sister, and brother
Yet, a larger part of her heart rejoices, as she knows that she now begins a life brand new
She looks with awe at her new husband, thinking she's among those blessed few

As her first day wears on, she looks from the corner of her eye for a sign from her better-half
She cannot follow him, as million eyes follow her, seeking for a serious gaffe
Treading carefully, slowly, she hovers around him, follows him like a shadow
Though he doesn't look at her in the eye, she can now see, plain and clear, his countenance is hollow

Women surround her, decorating her like a doll, they taunt her about 'the night' and giggle
They lead her to the room noisily, they laugh, tease, and tickle
The night approaches fast, her heart beats faster, as she senses her anxiety grow
He just stands there, not even glancing her way, why? the answer she doesn't know

Suddenly, it turns dark and she feels faint, as he undresses her and into her bed he climbs 
No love, no gentleness, like a blood-thirsty monster, onto her, he looms
As tears spill out, she bites her lip, bleeding it, stopping herself from screaming out in pain
She thinks the worst is over, and then she hears him screaming another woman's name again and again

Her eyes well up and tears warmly trickle down her face, which is now savaged 
She lay there, like a ragged doll, her heart broken, her body and soul ravaged
Her home, her life, and her dreams, all destroyed by a stranger in her bed
Is there no way out of this misery? Or is she as good as dead?

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!

The Knight Vs The King...

Not at all different from a girl any other

A firm believer I am, of a cliche, 'The knight in a shining armor'

My eyes, when awake, search for him desperately

When closed, they dream of him endlessly

Of his probing eyes looking deep down into mine, I am aware

Of his cool fingers brushing off from my face, tendrils of hair

Of his warm breath breezing on my cheek, as he holds me close

Of his lips, as he whispers, 'You are as beautiful as a red rose'

How does one find such a man in this world, in reality?

Mind accepts defeat, but the heart rejects any offer of peace or tranquility

'I do' finally accept to belong to a man, but with a half of my heart
Readying myself to embark on a journey, to adapt and to adopt

When asked the dreaded question, 'Is he your knight?'

I wave my hand carelessly and say, 'May be he is, may be not'

'Is he like this? Is he like that?' the cruel questions persist

Raising a minor chaos in the poor heart, which has no one to assist

Days pass and slowly upon me dawns a realization

Reality is a lot different, yet differently more beautiful than any fascination

It may not be all romantic or enchanting or surreal

Yet, it surely is unique, toughening, and most importantly it is REAL

He may not be like the dreamy hero sweeping the heroine off her feet

He may not be all lovey-dovey, proclaiming loudly his love for me to the entire fleet

Yet, he is all that I did not know I actually wanted

As for me, I now try every living moment to be the one he truly warranted

He does not own a shining armor and he surely is not a knight

But, he is a king, my king, who boldly conquered and filled the whole of my heart!!!


Inspired from a real life situation of an anonymous friend...

Woes of a Mother...

Of the whole creation am I a wonder

There’s no one else like me, where ever you wander

I’m a perfect balance of the heat and the cold

I’m the envy of any other world

Of the whole universe am I the queen

Within me, my equerries convene

The enchanted five some - air, water, fire, sky, and earth

Perform their magic and create the precious breath

My child, my prince is the apple of our eye

“Life” we call him, since within him our lives lie

For him, all my love and care I gather

For I love my offsrping, just like any other mother

Together, my ladies and I nurture him with all the care in the world

Seeing a wonder, seeing him mould

Proud and surprised I am at his intelligence

Longing for his escalation, I offer him fortunes immense

Swift and ambitious as he is

Quick is he to seize his opportunities

He works, builds, and he grows

He toils hard through highs and lows

Before long, he begins conquering worlds far-off

He grows more determined, he just cannot have enough

Without restraint, he plucks the fruit I bear him

With them, he fuels his never-ending dream

In front of my eyes, he converts

To suit himself, my treasures he diverts

Now, he destroys rather than build

Making me bitterly realise that he is a child gone wild

He tears me apart, hurting me slowly

Plunging knifes into my body maliciously

He now has no sympathy, no rest

Kicks me till I bleed, in my breast

He claims me now, he has forgotten to ask

I try to stop him, but it’s no longer an easy task

He treats me less like a mother and more like a whore

How much ever I give him, he wants more and more

Finally, I’m tired and withered

My entire body is blood-smeared

And try as I might

I can never show my son the light

Just before my eyes close

I see something much worse

Bleeding to his death my son lay

In front of my eyes he is wasting away

Valentine’s day…Now and Then…

14^th February, 1999

Getting up in the morning, I don’t even need to glance at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth

And I had been waiting for this day, for all too long

I look at the pretty gift that I had bought for her

Thinking if I would ever get a chance to give it to her

And then, sneaking out of my room into the living room

Stealthily I approach the phone and ring her up

Wanting to be the first one to wish her ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’

Listening to the ‘beep beep’ on the other side

I am spiraling down an abyss, expecting the worst

Whom is she talking to this early in the morning?

Am I too late? Did some one else ask her out already?

Finally, after trying times innumerable

The ring on the other side was the most welcome sound

But then, I was nervous

What if she is not interested?

“Hello,” her sweet voice on the other side

Made me forget the world

Still a little nervous I wish her and say my thing

She giggles and says, “I had been waiting for you to ask”

14^th February, 2029

Getting up in the morning, I glance at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth

Isn’t this day supposed to mean something?

I try to remember, birthdays… wedding anniversaries…

How much ever I try, nothing comes into my mind

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I rush into the living room

Running all around the house

The Daily morning routine, the chores and the rush

Struggling into my clothes, I take a bite at the breakfast table

And quickly set off to the car

Resting on the dashboard was a large card and a little wrapped package beside it

On a card is a large picture of a basket of red roses

And a ‘Happy Valentine’s day’ written in gold

Crap! I forgot to wish her, let alone buy her a gift or a card

I rush back into the living, where she was struggling with the children

As usual, to get them into their clothes, to feed them

And send them to their destinations on time

I go towards her in a run

She looks up from whatever she is doing

I smile and say my thing

She smiles back and says, “I had been waiting for you to remember”

14^th February, 2059

Getting up early in the morning, I try to look at the calendar

It is February, the fourteenth or is it nineteenth?

I rub my eyes and look at it closely

What difference does it make?

Everyday is the same…

I walk into the living room, slowly

Looking around, taking in the quiet of the morning

As usual, I get out and start for my usual walk

Taking in the fresh morning air and rejuvenating myself

I continue walking until I see the young girls next door pass by

They were smiling and seemed pretty excited

They stop to wish me a good morning

And a ‘Happy Valentine’s day!’

Oh! It is Valentine’s Day today

I forgot to wish her, as always

I go back home, and say my thing before I forget

In my haste I forget to notice that she is not wearing her hearing aid

She looks at me blankly and says, “Why do you always forget your glasses at home

And now, you grumble. I was worried sick myself and was waiting for you to come back.”

YOU AND I...

You and I...

We are together this moment
And nothing matters to me more

When I look into your eyes
I see love there that belongs to me, only me

It feels wonderful when I realize
How the word 'I' now embraces both 'you' and 'I'


I can't think of being away from you
Nor can I imagine my life without you

Not that I didn't have a life before you
But now, I just can't think about how I lived back then

Now, my life is filled with you, only you and so is my world
And now, I don't just 'LOVE' you, but I 'LIVE' you!!!

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!

A PEACOCK QUILL STORY...

The mansion was silent and I was idle. Yes! I was idle! After so many years.


The kids had gone off to their school and my husband to his work. As for my work, I had it organized enough to take care of itself even in my brief absence.


I looked around myself and found nothing to comfort my racing nerves. Was it a good idea? The doctors say anything. Do they know me better than myself?


I remembered the doctor’s words, “you have to slow down, take some time off,” and that’s what I was doing. I was suddenly tempted to rush into my den, the place I retreat to in the midst of every night, when I get jerked off my sleep, just to see my laptop and may be just sit there a while, check a couple of mails, finish a couple of errands (though they could have waited till morning). And that was what got my family alarmed. I’m a workaholic. I knew that. But it isn’t a disease. Is it?


Why has it suddenly become so difficult to think of something else other than home and work? It was not so when I was a little girl, was it? What did I ever do when I was small? I remember running. Yes! I ran a lot! I ran at home, I ran outside, I ran in the school. I remember I had a little doll, and all my energy went into looking after it. I smiled. And suddenly, a thought struck. I know what I could do now!


It was as if I was transported back to my childhood. I ran across the hall- not like how I do every morning, before rushing off to my office, but I ran like how I used to do when I was little. I ran straight into the dusty store room. I rummaged through layers and layers of stuff that hadn’t been used for years. I never had any idea before now how much filth I owned. What was I storing all this stuff for anyway?


After an incredibly long time, I finally found what I was looking for. The large box was old; the surface of it was peeling off. On the top was my name, barely visible, scribbled in blue- I remembered my mother’s handwriting, the characteristic scrawl, when she wrote in hurry, all the while issuing warnings and concerns, for I was going to live all alone, for the first time in my life.


I lifted the awfully heavy box and carried it into my bedroom, set it on the floor and carefully started removing the things from it, one-by-one, the things I had cherished as a little girl, the things, though looked trivial now, but were so treasured once- a stack of papers splashed with colors, tiny dolls, old ribbons, a little book in which, I wrote meaningless poetry, countless number of shells, photographs of friends and family and so on…


It was when I was going through an old book that it flew down, straight into my lap. I picked it up gingerly. A peacock quill. It still felt soft. At first, I couldn’t remember owning it and then slowly, it all started coming back, in bits and pieces.


Where I had got it from or when I didn’t know, but it somehow ended up in my fairy tale book. It was the most colorful and beautiful thing I had ever possessed and I loved it. I was possessive of it. It was my secret possession and prized. I never showed it to my parents for the fear of parting with it. And one day, when I took it to school and showed it to my friends, they were full of awe. Some asked me to give it to them, some begged and some cried. But, I wouldn’t. Would I? I had it with me, day and night, where ever I went.


But I didn’t know what it ate! My best friend had suggested feeding it with grains. “Feed it well and the feather would grow. My grandmother told me. She had this magic feather when she was small. She had fed it well and the feather grew so big,” she said, stretching her arms wide. She said it had powers. It was a magical feather. I was overjoyed and surprised. Of course, it had powers!


I was so excited. I fed it with different grains. Ever day, my friend and I would peep into the fairy tale book and every time, we got overjoyed imagining 'the magic quill' had indeed grown a little.


For a few days, my life revolved around it. After a few days, I suddenly got bored of the peacock quill and I gradually forgot all about it and managed to push off its existence into oblivion and its memory into a deep, dark corner of my mind.


Wow! What a life it was! This is what is missing in my life. That passion! That innocence! That obtaining joy in the little things of life! This is all there is to life and happiness.


In pursuit of the biggies in life- studies, career, marriage, kids, money, status and power, we often forget living life, enjoying the things that bring us a lot of happiness. I had realized it now and had decided that becoming a little girl and living my life once in a while, wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

LEARNING REALITY...

Innocent heart filled with joy

Floats amidst the clouds

Envisages a colourful path ahead

Hopes, Fantasizes, Prays

Ignorant to the reality

Unaware of it's harshness

Two little hands; soft, fragile fingers

Yet bold and confident

Gradually, Prudently

Build block upon block

As the eyes spin

Dream upon dream...

Suddenly, without warning

A torrent breaks

Flooding everything on it's way

Spelling a spate of destruction

Hurling the carefully arranged blocks

In all directions possible

Mercilessly breaking them apart...

The hands, no longer soft

Withered with disappointment and defeat

With the precious dreams shattered

The eyes are filled with tears...

A broken heart filled with sorrow

Gropes in the dark

Tries to gather it's pieces

Cries, Laments, Mourns

Learning Reality

Knowing now, it's harshness...

AFTER LOOSING HER...

Skin pale and white; as white as the bed sheet, on which she lay.
Face wrinkled; the folds seem to grow by the minute.
Drained of blood; life seems to be slipping off silently from her weak body.
Eyes closed, as if in a deep sleep; in peace with the world.
Hair scantier and whiter than ever; her age suddenly seems doubled.
Thin tubes running through her nostrils, lips slightly agape.
A wired clip on a finger of her left arm and an I.V. adorning it; rudely needled into a bulging blue vein on the back side of her palm.
My old woman was feebly fighting with death and we all know the outcome of the struggle.
I see no movement in her. She is as still as a stone.
The machine behind me is still beeping rhythmically and the quickly disappearing misty film in her oxygen mask is being replaced continually; I understand that she hasn't yet given in.
I walk away from her, stand at the window, looking out at nothing in particular.
"What should I do now?" I ask myself, "Whom should I turn to when I'm distressed? Whom should I seek when I need company? Who will be there for me, with me in this old age?"
Our fights, our reconciliations; Our arguments, our agreements; where would they all go now? Am I supposed to be content with memories, just memories?
I feel blank and numb, as I recollect the life I'd spent with her:
The beautiful girl, who blushed red the first time I looked into those pretty little eyes.
The wonderful lover, who easily slid into my arms when I sought her arm.
The sensitive dame, who shed tears when I was angry with her.
The passionate woman, who cried out of happiness when we were united in a wedlock for ever.
The crazy lady, who screamed and hurled things at me when she was mad at me.
The loving mother, who was the best my kids could ever have.
My best friend, my solace, my love and my everything.
Unconsciously, I smile as I remember every phase of our lives we'd had together-the good moments, the bad ones, the bittersweet times that we had shared-the first touch, the first kiss, the first child, the first house, the first car...the last kiss, the last breakfast together, the last fight, the last holiday... the first everything and the last everything.
I go back to her and touch the back of her hand, it is as cold as ice. I look at her face and am taken aback! Her eyes are open! Her lips are bent in a beautiful smile! She still looks stunning.
Without warning, the machine behind me suddenly emits a continuous sound. Alarmed, I shoot it a look and teary-eyed, I look at her again. Her pretty little eyes are still looking at me, lovingly and the mist in the oxygen mask clears out completely to reveal her smile.
Looking at her now, I decide: Of course! Her memories are enough to keep me going. She is not here with me, but her love is.
I bend forward, kiss her palm and tuck it safely inside the blanket, as tears stream down my cheeks.
I get up slowly, take my stick and walk out towards my children, who wait anxiously to abide by my wish to have a last few minutes alone with my wife!
Ironically, they turn out to be her last minutes too!!

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)

WHY DO WE SHED TEARS?

Why do we shed tears?
A doctor says that tears are some sort of secretions of Lachrymal glands present at the base of your eyes.
A chemist says that tears have anti-bactericidal enzymes that protect the eyes.
But, are they just that- some salty drops of water oozing out of eyes, keeping them safe?
May be not...
A mother sheds tears, while dressing the bruises of her child...that is love.
A father sheds tears, when his child receives a trophy for his hard work...that is pride.
A teen-aged girl sheds tears watching an incredibly romantic movie, looking at the girl in absolute bliss, in the arms of her man...that is fantasy.
A lover sheds tears, when she terribly misses the love of her life...that is yearning.
A student sheds tears, when he flunks an exam...that is failure.
A new bride sheds tears, while leaving her loved ones behind to follow her husband into a new life...that is affection.
A wife sheds tears, when she can't reach her husband and for no apparent reason, he isn't home yet...that is concern.
An old woman sheds tears, when her son finally comes back to her to take care of her...that is joy.
A prisoner sheds tears, when he realizes his mistake...that is regret.

Tears are with us in every walk of life, accompanying every deep feeling.
They show how much we love or care. They show how happy or sad we are.
They lighten our mood, make us feel better, while going through a tough period.
Tears are not something to be ashamed of. They are not a sign of weakness, but of emotion and passion!

YOU AREN'T HERE...

At first, there were tears
And then, when the reality dawned upon me harder, there were more tears
And then, there was this intense pain
Excruciating, stabbing at my heart mercilessly
Shooting through my veins, making me wince, cry out loud
For you aren't here to comfort me...


And then I was tired
Tried of all the crying, tired of the pain I'd been through
Surprised I'm not yet dead
Its now a void, an abyss, a nothingness
For you aren't here to fill me and complete me


I close my eyes, I drift off into a deep sleep
Not wanting to get up
I want to believe its all a nightmare
And I would find you here beside me when I wake up
But you aren't here to say in your calm quite voice, "trust me."


"It was a dream. Wasn't it?" I ask people when I do wake up, occasionally
They keep their sad lips pursed
The answer written on their faces
I go back to sleep, afraid to get up and face the music
For you aren't here to give me strength


People advise me to let in some fresh air
Take a short walk , feel the bright sun
But I want all the doors closed,
All the windows shut and all the shutters drawn
I want darkness all around me
I want to lose myself in it
I want it to engulf me, eat me up
For you aren't here to pull me out, lock me in your embrace, look into my eyes and say, "everything is gonna be alright"


I feel numb, feel no pain now
I neither laugh, nor cry
I neither sigh, nor do I smile
I'm dead inside
For you aren't here to make me feel alive


I had never had to think about this earlier
But now that you are gone,
I realize...
Your life was my life
Your death is my death


And then...
As days pass, the cloud begins to clear, the wounds heal
A thin ray of fresh light from somewhere enters
Bringing with it a new hope
A voice within me emerges from nowhere
I realize... that it belongs to you!


It smiles at me, soothes me
Guides me into a new life
Helps me build it anew, emerge from the ruins
A life, which is not as beautiful
But still, it is what it is... 'LIFE'


I slowly learn, all over again
To talk, to smile like a baby taking its first lessons
To laugh when something is funny
To cry when I feel sad
Its you and your voice that do the magic, once again
And I fall in love with you all over again


I finally learn...
You aren't here, but your love is still with me
You aren't here, but I still need to be
To love you forever
To remain here as a sign of your love
To remember you and cherish the memory of your existence
And... to live my life!!!




Inspired from the book P.S. I Love You (by Cecelia Ahern)