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.

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!”

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...

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.”

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!!

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."

AN EMOTIONAL LABYRINTH...

"Only a week from now," I told myself.
Oh my God! It is a week!
Not a day or two!
It is a whole Goddamn week!
Seven days! Seven restless days appended by seven sleepless nights...
"Do all the girls in my situation feel the way?" I wondered.
I wouldn't want to say that I entirely disliked the sudden rush of emotions I had begun to experience these days. I wouldn't even want to say that I liked them.
What I'm going through is a strange mixture of pleasure and displeasure; a combination of fright and tranquility. It is strength and weakness ensembled; enigma and euphoria blended with each other.
Am I nervous? Hell yes! I'm! I'm absolutely nervous! Completely freaked out!
And worse, I started imagining all sorts of absurd things.
Too many questions started ravaging my mind, causing an interminable havoc there.
What if something really terrible happens on that day? What if I trip and fall down in front of him? What if I become unconscious? (and that did seem like a certainty looking at the way I'm going on right now) God! That would surely be a disaster!
What if he doesn't like me? What if he doesn't find me beautiful? What if he thinks I'm ugly? What if he doesn't like the way I talk? What if he thinks I wont make a good wife for him? What if he is already in love with someone else and has agreed to come here due to the persistence of his parents?
What if he doesn't meet my expectations? What if he is a freak? What if he turns out to be some sort of a lunatic? What if...What if...What if...?
What has happened to my adamantly maintained self confidence and the always accompanying rationality and reasoning? Where had they vanished?
My head started spinning and I collapsed into a chair.
I know nothing about him. I know absolutely nothing. Except for his name, which continually keeps ringing in my ears, owing to my noisy family, who now seem to find immense pleasure in teasing me, taking his name again and again (I'd hate to admit it but, I enjoy it too) and his picture, his awfully nice picture that they had shown me only a few days back, the picture I'd been tempted to steal a look at at every possible opportunity, I know nothing about him. I don't even know what his voice sounds like.
Yet, here I'm unable to think of nothing but him, thinking of how marriage with him would be like. Weird huh? Arranged marriage matches do seem a little weird. But that is the beauty in them.
I'd never foreseen the anticipation and nervousness that has now engulfed me completely. I want to 'fast forward' the time and go ahead of the week separating me from that fateful day. At the same time, I don't want to loose all this waiting and the thrilling suspense. And at the same time, I also want to stop the time here, run away from my house, away from the noise, excitement and laughter, away from the charged air and hide somewhere, bury myself somewhere.
I spoke at lenght to my best friends to quieten my racing nerves. It gave me a momentary solace. But nah! No amount of talk, meditation or efforts to distract my mind proved fruitful.
I need something else, something more. I need to clear my mind off things. I need to sit and think. I need to sit and write.
Well, here I'm trying hard to get myself together, penning down and sorting out all my confusion and my irregular, clogged thoughts... trying to clear my emotional labyrinth!!!

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.

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

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 BEGINNING OR THE END...

"No! Don't go! Please don't leave me alone. I was screaming within myself. But, I said nothing. I just forced a smile onto my lips. This was what my parents were worried about. And this was what my friends were scared of. In fact, this was what everyone was afraid of and I was no exception. Marriage to an Army Major is no easy affair... I knew it. But, it didn't help. I was in love and couldn't bear the thought of someone else in my life-not even in my wildest nightmare. "If I have to marry, it would be either him or no one," I declared with indefinite finality. My parents were dumbstruck and so were everybody else. I-who never really bothered about anything in life, I-who lead a life completely carefree and careless, fell in love!!!!! I fell in love-truly, deeply and madly in love... That was the first time I cared for someone else. that was the first time I felt like getting extremely close to someone-so close that he'll remain with me all my life. that was the first time I felt like offering myself to someone. It was a miracle! 'He' was the miracle!! His eyes are magic... His voice is magic... His touch is magic... His nearness is magic... Days with him were like 'a dream come true'... Nights with him were ecstatic... He is my addiction...my obsession...my desire... He is my love... He is my life... It felt funny at the beginning just to think that I could have such intense feelings or such a wild desire for someone. Now, it is no longer funny. I can only feel a deep sense of grief sending away 'my man' straight into the claws of the inevitable DEATH!!! I cant let him go... I cant let him die... I cant stop him...because, I had long back realised that he belonged to the nation first and only then did he belong to me... I watched his lean figure moving away from me. "No! Don't go!" I was still screaming within myself. "I'll be all alone. I cant face the hostile world alone. Please! Don't...!!" He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, as if he heard the agonizing cries within me. He turned back to look at me. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked at him, hopefully. He smiled at me for the last time and continued... I stood there staring at him, until he disappeared, praying silently... praying ardently... praying God to spare him... Praying that this should not be the end... This should not be the end...This cannot be the end... Or is it?! Hell! No!! It cant be!!! It was just the beginning of something much awaited. I just began my life with him only a week back!!!!

THE MAKING OF A MORNING....

I woke up as the first rays of the morning sun bathed the room with their freshness, after having a pleasant dream. I turned my head to find a more pleasant sight.
Ah! There he was, sleeping peacefully.
I wrapped my naked body in the blanket and sat on the bed, staring at the heaving of his bare chest as he breathed steadily. I smiled. Waking up beside him is a bliss...
Cooking for him, Dancing with him, Lazing away the Sunday evenings with him were the most pleasant things i had ever done...
Living with him, Loving him, Making love for him, Mothering his children were the best things ever happened to me...
Life with him is ultimate happiness...

I blushed like a child as I relived our last night coupling in my head. He was so warm, so gentle, so caring, so soft...

I looked at his face which looked like a small, innocent baby when he slept. And this makes me love him even more. He is still handsome. Oh yes! He is! I observed lovingly his fine looks- the looks which attracted me in the first place...
"I love you!" I whispered, "I need you and I want you."
I stroked his thick, jet black hair (which had lately been showing signs of his age) gently and lovingly.
He opened his eyes. Slowly- very slowly like a small boy. I wanted to kiss him, but i suppressed my desire. I smiled at him instead.
He smiled back- a beautiful and radiant smile that lit the room, as his hands reached for me went straight into my hair and played with the curls.
"Good Morning!" he said sleepily.
Well... My morning was made!!!!!!!