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…   

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!

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 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.

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'

JUST A MOMENT....

When was it you have last told your spouse that you love him or her?
When was it that you have last sat with your siblings roaring with laughter at all the silly things you had done as kids?
When was it that you have last hugged your parents and told them that you still cared for them?
A few days ago?
A few months ago?
A few years ago??!!!
Man is a social animal. His relationships with the people around him are one of the most important needs for him and it is these relationships that make him different from the other animals inhabiting the earth. To establish and to maintain them, man needs LOVE, PASSION, EMOTION...The three delicacies of life that add flavour and fullness to it, making his life complete. Without them, he leads an incomplete and dull life.
Often, he fails to realise this in his never ending pursuit of riches and power. However, at some point of time in his life, when he gets tired of the non-stop running after materialistic things of the world, when he pauses and looks back, what it is that he finds? Has he been living a 'real' life? May be not...He realises that he has just been living, but he had never felt life, because life is nowhere present in the materialistic things in the world. He gets filled with an unknown emptiness, a vacuum, a nothingness, which is far more depressing than anything he had ever experienced.
How does he remedy this? all he has to do now is just try to bring out the flavour in life, try to fill his life with love and passion, renew his relationships with the people around him and finally.....
Live a contented and happy life full of bright colours!!!!!