Dreamer's world

Forever Young

2016-04-22T02:34:00.003-07:00

I always thought we would be forever young and free...

That there would be always dancing on streets and climbing trees.

Long walks along deserted dark streets and us falling asleep in the midst of the morning breeze..

Always thought that would be our thing..

But a day at the beach that would turn into a long night is now a distant reality,

Riding in cars with no destinations in sight is no more a possibility.

There is something about getting old that is just not for me;day dreaming need not be such a luxury!

But then there we are at that party and I am trying too hard to feel.

Those endless conversations they don't come by so easily.Long silences and big TV screens surround me

As I resist falling asleep ; I realize I have to just let it be..
You and I will still do our thing..even if we are not so young and free..

2014-02-05T21:57:00.001-08:00

Nothing gloomy or too deep..
All I am looking for is something silly with a cup of tea.

We could have coffee too if you please..
As long as you promise to be free.

Free from all this pretense and role play..
Free like we were little girls again.

Why does it seem that it was so long ago..
When those giggles were not so hollow.

All this jazz can only bring blues..
Lighten up my friend ,look at the brighter hues.

A day out together will do us good..
Hold my hand as we sing through the old neighbourhood.

I hope it rains and soaks us through. .
A little splish splash will go with those Jimmy Choos

As I pause to steal a glance at you..
I see what I should have known all the way through

I have lost you to a world or two ...
You my friend are just someone I knew..
A long time ago that too..

Those Jimmy Choos, they do you good.

All things old and chucked away

2013-09-12T22:54:00.001-07:00

Do you remember the last time you cleaned a comb ?
When i was a kid my mom used to make me clean all the household combs every sunday. I used to enjoy the task immensely and felt quite responsible and all thinking that the family's hair hygiene rested on my little shoulders. Quite a lot of time was spent in dipping the combs in soap solution and then using an old toothbrush to clean each comb meticulously.They were then left to dry in the sun and I would smile proudly at the bright and shiny ,as good as new things.

I now buy a new comb everytime the current one gets reasonably dirty. There are hardly any old toothbrushes around.
They are chucked into the dustbin right next to pens with used refills, old batteries,unwanted post and all that is deemed useless on that particular day.
When was the last time you bought pen refills?
On one of my rare visits to the tailors recently, I overheard one of the other customers asking him for the leftover kapda. Maybe I was imagining things but I had a feeling that he was as bemused as I was at this request.
My grandma used to make pretty things out of all the rags in the house.I now realize it was more than a hobby.
My uncle used to make these little notebooks of wedding invites and all other unused paper for grocery lists,things to do and all that. I buy mine at crosswords. The fancy ones which say organic or recycled paper. They look cute in the display and on my fridge too;after all grocery lists should look pretty i tell myself. I guess they make the dustbins look pretty too at the end of the day.

In this age of new found prosperity and our race to be westernized ,we seem to have lost our sense of preservation. I think only when the west goes big on recycling,we will go back to how things used to be?
But where is the time I ask myself; or the space ? Hmm i guess that is material for some other post some other day...

Next Time...

2013-06-21T13:37:00.005-07:00

I love the gloominess which lurks around this time of the year.
The dark clouds hovering around ominously...They speak of distant memories.
Remind me of all the fun had in the rain;In another time and another place.
And then almost on cue, it Rains..
Next time, I tell myself.
I love the calm that ensues after. It speaks volumes, through the occasional tip tap.
I love the little streams making their way through feverishly;
They seem to have a purpose;a meaning.
Make me wonder why I did not get out there...
Next time, I tell myself.
I love the mud that sticks on the soles of my shoes and finds it's way into my life.
Just like the water that has seeped through the window sills.
Reminding me of things that could have been...
Next time for sure,I tell myself.

The Blue Boots

2013-02-22T10:26:00.000-08:00

There they lay on the window still,
a little dusty, a little beat.
Shoved into the corner, for a rainy day;
Who knew what tales they were aching to tell.

Step into them I wanted to,
Will on a rainy day I told myself.
Shoved them into the corners of my mind,
there they lay safe.

Wear them when you can make the most of them,
said my friend.That is the wise way.
You will need them one day for sure.
Till then, they need to be put away.

That day was yesterday my love,
said the old lady with the white face.
So many rains and so many suns,
you seemed to have missed them in all the rush.

Rains they come and go, I said.
This though, I need to get done today.
Oh if only you could wear them just once,she said.
You would know what fun they entail.

There is nothing to fear. she said.
All they need is a little getting wet.

Stepped into them , I did.
Those Blue boots they just fit.
Everything just fell into place,
Everyday is now a rainy day.

Lost in the woods

2012-09-10T04:52:00.000-07:00

Being lost in the woods, is where I want to be...
Some place where no one can find me.
Dark strange places and crazy faces following me...
That's the adventure I seek.
But those woods they elude me..
Familiar faces and places surround me.
Places that I want to flee...

Oh,where is that rabbit hole when you need it..
Alice

Not so Strong

2012-02-25T01:31:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish I was not so strong; that I would just give in

Sometimes I wish it was easy, easy to show the pain

Sometimes I wish the words would just flow; that the silence wasn't so overpowering

Sometimes I wish my love was not so deep; that there were no heartbreaks

Sometimes I wish they knew what it was like; that I did not have it easy

Sometimes I wish they could see beyond the pride; hear through the silences

Sometimes I wish my strength wasn't my weakness…

Thursday Nights

2011-07-16T12:07:00.000-07:00

Her heart was pounding loudly. She was shaking with anger as she tried to rush through the files. She hated it when things came up at the last minute. Her boss always assumed she would take up work way past office hours.

Today she had no time to spare though; she had to be home on time. She had tried telling him, she had some important appointments but he had just smiled as he put those files on her desk. One of these days she was going to give him a piece of her mind, she thought to herself.
She brushed aside these thoughts and tried to focus. She could still make it on time if she got it right in one go. She had to; she could not afford to be late today. Everyone was going to be there tonight and she did not want to miss on any of the fun. She waited the whole week for Thursday evenings and today was extra special.

It was nine o’ clock by the time she was able to get out of her office. It had just begun to rain. Oh, just my luck she thought. It was best to catch a taxi she convinced herself. Pay day was just around the corner and she could afford these small luxuries every once in a while. After all, she worked so hard.

She kept fidgeting with her watch as she sat in the taxi, urging the driver to speed up. She was exasperated to see amount of traffic on the road. It seemed the whole city was out on the streets, conspiring against her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of the evening ahead instead.

Family gatherings were so much fun. It was the only thing she looked forward to in her life. The friendly banter, the knowing smiles, the loving concern…
Kitty was supposed to return from Washington today. There was sure to be a lot of drama. She could imagine the scenes. How mother would well up and how she would probe. How Kitty would get annoyed, tempers would flare and Sarah would try to calm everyone down. All the high drama would end in a lot of crying and hugging. Oh, how she loved family dinners.

She was jolted from her reverie, as the cab came to an abrupt halt. Here you are madamji said the driver. Too much traffic Madam he started. She threw in the extra twenty as she ran up the stairs. She could hear her clock chime ten through the front door, as she fumbled with the keys…

She cried a sigh of relief as the opening music played on. She was just in time for the show…

All but a Cloud

2011-06-26T12:06:00.000-07:00

It is all but a cloud,

Just blow it away ..

Even if it is dark,

You can will it away..

After all it is a cloud,

It will float astray..

One minute it is there,

and gone in the next..

For all you know,

It may not really Rain ..

She

2011-06-15T21:39:00.000-07:00

She sat there hugging her knees, gaining some comfort from the warmth of the cup that she held in her hand. The rain made her shiver.

The house was surrounded by tall Eucalyptus trees. They seemed to obscure all the dreary sights of the world outside.

It was like she was in a cave, watching the forest drench itself.While the rain kept the beasts at bay.

She wished it was not so. She wished she had a glimpse of the world outside, of teeming life.

If only she could spot gleeful children, running around in circles, or young lovers holding hands in the rain.

That would perhaps bring a smile to her face. And then the beasts may not seem so real.

The Other Day

2011-06-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 21; the twenty-first edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The other day, I was a little girl again, making a bouquet from wild flowers with friends…

The other day, I was riding my bike, free falling with my arms wide in the air…

The other day, I was sitting in the dickey seat of my father’s car, with my legs dangling outside…

The other day, I was listening to the radio, singing along with every song they played…

The other day, I was reading my favourite book again, atop the guava tree in my backyard…

The other day I was keeling over with laughter, over a joke I had heard again…

The other day, I was a growing up in a small town, far away from the shimmer of the city lights…

The other day, I was learning to play the guitar, hoping to be a rock star someday…

The other day, I wanted to become a lawyer. To fight for truth and everything else I stood for …

The other day, I would have taken a bullet for my friends; I loved them to death…

The other day, I was hopelessly in love, never thought the feeling would fade…

The other day, I was home again; amongst familiar chatter and buzzing door bells…

The other day, I was trying to find the broken pieces…

Hoping it would feel just like the other day …

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Virgil the Hamster

2011-05-22T03:13:00.000-07:00

Every day I peek outside,searching for a familiar soul,lurking in the darkness somewhere
Every day I am disappointed...
Every day I console myself with the melody of laughter of imaginary friends,floating through the abyss
Every day I am enlightened...
Every day I go back in time and think of all the good times we had , not so many winters ago
Every day I shake myself back to reality..
"You have dug too deep", says the Missus ..."They don’t venture so deep anymore"
They all scurry along just below the surface...Merry as ever ..
Every day I hope..

Journey

2011-04-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 19; the nineteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

If it was up to me, I would be climbing trees just for the heck of it …

But then Mama said, “We will buy you some pretty frocks for your birthday this week "

Frocks never made it easy to climb those trees.

If it was up to me, I would come home with muddy feet…

But then Mama said “You ought to be playing at home. Give up your tom boyish ways."

If it was up to me, I would be whistling away melodies.

But then Mama said, "Young girls ought to have a shy demeanor. How can you be so un fille?"

If it was up to me, I would be playing cricket in the gully…

But then Mama said,” Pretty girls ought to have a fair complexion. You ain't going to play with those boys no more".

If it was up to me, I would never be cooking …

But then Mama said "It helps to start early. Good wives make perfect Rotis"

If it was up to me, I would never give up so much..

But then Mamma said "You are turning into a fine young Woman, Simi!"

If it was up to me I would never be on this Journey…

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Wasabi pea

2011-03-29T01:54:00.000-07:00

This ain't no heaven, and you ain't my Angel Sweet

You my precious one, are to be my Wasabi pea

Is it too soon to tell you , what a cruel world it is Indeed ?

That you ain't going to get by , by being sweet..

I am going to coat you with spice, and give it a little twist

Then my little one you will be a Wasabi pea

Just what this world needs ..

Yellow Submarine

2011-02-28T10:50:00.000-08:00

There lay the Yellow Submarine , old and rusty , abandoned by the sea .

The one that had once sailed beneath the waves, in the sea of green .

It used to be a happy place to be.

Now there were no dreams fluttering in and no laughter drifting out from within .

It was no longer the place to find simple joys , life was not as it used to be .

Where did the children flee?

Did they all, not want to be living in the yellow submarine ?

"There is no yellow submarine," said the bright child."Only fools live in a dream."

But then there it lay , gleaming in the sun , right next to the Green.

Zits

2011-02-21T22:27:00.000-08:00

It was the summer when a lot was breaking out from inside me, apart from the Zits on my face..Was it not conspicuous to the world outside ?

But then Mamma said, "You are a shy boy Ronny.Girls will like you despite your zits.Don't you fret sweetie".

It was the summer I heard giggles everywhere I went and hushed tones too..Did everyone not know already ?

But then Daddy said, "You should come play squash like men your age do Ronny.Get rid of your puerile ways."

It was the summer I tried to fight it the most .. Could I not lock it away in the closet,for it to be never shown ?

But then Daddy said, "You are a queer boy Ronny ".

It was the summer when everything was exploding...Just like the Zits on my face.

Deepal

2011-02-16T01:18:00.001-08:00

Theirs was a typical Love - Hate relationship.From what eight year old Meenal could reminisce, it seemed like Deepal had been around forever.Following her everywhere like a shadow.Sometimes even to places, where her shadow abandoned her.
Deepal was the wiser one.She was always the one to show her the right path,the brighter side.She would finish sentences for her,occasionally, her thoughts too.
There were days she wished she could make her go away,to Neverland maybe.She wished she could put an end to her constant chattering.Sometimes she did too, but then she would regret it the very next moment.
It was always easy to cajole Deepal after a fight.She would never sulk for too long or make her suffer.She would come back to her ever so wise though.Always saying "I told you so".That would make Meenal hate her even more.
But she loved Deepal.She was her only comfort on dark rainy nights when Daddy was away and Grandma was fast asleep.The only one who would hear her sobs as she cried herself to sleep every night thinking of Mommy.Sometimes she would make up funny stories just to make her laugh.She would tell her that Daddy was not really mad at her but missed mommy too and that in the morning everything would be brighter.
As she sat in there, huddled up,thinking about Deepal ,she heard footsteps in the room outside."I told you Daddy would find you in here ", Deepal said. "Hush", she said.
Just then the knob turned and she saw Daddy giving her the sad look he always gave her . " What are you doing in Mommy's closet sweetie ?",he said. "We were looking all over for you. And who were you talking to in there ? ".

The wind in my face

2011-01-15T11:09:00.000-08:00

I recently went on a recreational trip with my parents after a long time.The last time I went holidaying with them, was way back in college when I was still living with them.
As we landed in Goa, my dad handed me this itinerary he had printed out(rather had had his secretary print it out for him).He told me since our train was late , we were running a little behind on the list, but that we should be able to catch up next day if we left by seven in the morning.As I exchanged looks of astonishment with my equally amused husband, I told myself this was not going to be the holiday I had wanted it to be.The picture I had in mind was all of us sitting by the beach ,sipping our drinks , enjoying the sun and sand engaged in the usual family banter.
Alas that did not seem to be on the list ! I was disappointed to say the least but as I tried to snap out of it,I could hear the driver answering my father's inquisitive questions.He drew our attention to these brightly coloured Portugese houses which lined up the winding roads.I listened with rapt attention as he unfolded the history of Goan architecture and the unique property laws of Goa.
Ideally I go on a holiday,equipped with all the local trivia via the internet.I have even carried print outs on some occasions.I am not the kind of person who talks to people on trains , flights or makes friends with complete strangers.Talking to the driver is also on that list.But by day two of our Goa trip, I had become very fond of the driver.I had learnt more things about Goa than any website can ever put up.We went to all the popular tourist destinations where I was overwhelmed by the hordes of people who had descended from Gujrat,Maharashtra,Bengal and the likes.I was taking it all in ,on the side, along with the Goan culture.As I bargained for curios at the local Bazaar, I discovered that there was so much more to Goa than the beaches and the firangs.We picked up yummy pastries at small shops around the corner and ate Kwality Ice cream by the beach.I also did the unthinkable and visited some of the local temples. I came back feeling spiritually uplifted.
In fact this was proving out to be quite the opposite of the exclusive getaway I had in mind.Despite that I was having a lot of fun though and by the time we left Goa , I felt like I was leaving a place I had grown quite fond of.
As I sat reminiscing about the good times in my AC compartment on our way back home,it dawned upon me that in our need for exclusivity we tend to limit our experiences.Also there is a growing need in us to live the good life,to announce to the world that we have arrived.This is probably the sign of changing times ( A good sign that too ) , but as I sit in the comforts of my AC compartment, I cannot help but miss the wind in my face.

Avantika Express

2011-01-02T22:13:00.000-08:00

One of the most distinct sounds that is emblazoned in my memory, is the sound of an auto slowing down.
Back in the days when telephones were a luxury and the inland and postcard were the only mode of communication, there was a dread associated with that sound in my house.I remember vividly the anxious look on my mother's face, if one of those sounds halted in front of our gate,especially in the wee hours of the morning.This is when the Avantika express would arrive at platform number 3 on most days.
If we were lucky then a postcard would act as an harbinger to impending guests,with details of coach numbers and train arrival timings crammed along the sides.This would mean a trip to the railway station in our steadfast Maruti 800.As a kid I used to be excited about receiving guests at the station,most of whom arrived by the Avantika express.Avantika used to be the first train in the morning back then.I would love to go to the station in the wee hours of the morning , stepping carefully over people sleeping on the platform.It used to be enchanting to watch the chaos unfold at the platform as the sun would begin to rise above the over bridge.Before I knew the station would be abuzz with life and people lining up at the water booth with toothbrushes and Dabur dant manjan.
I also remember that although the excitement in me was palpable but was not so discernible in the other members of the receiving party.Nobody else would be jumping around with joy for sure.One of the miseries of being an only child is that you never fit in.I always felt overshadowed by the five adults who surrounded me.You tend to be the odd man out all the time.
Coming back to platform No 3 , I remember my father being quite irked by my jumpiness and would try very hard to not to let it distract him from his daily crossword.
There would be the occasional confusion when due to oversight, the coach number would have been incorrectly mentioned in the postcard.This is when my father would send me running off in one direction and my uncle in another ,while he would stand at the main gate, sifting through the crowd for familiar faces.The confusion would mostly climax into a happy union and pleasantries would be exchanged.I was always greeted with "Oh look how much you have grown.Last time we saw you , you were this small."Complete with gestures and all. One would think though, that considering the frequency of their visits, they had been privy to my growth as much as the chaiwala on platform number 3.
The pleasantries at the station, would then be followed by an elaborate session at home, where my grandparents would fill the newly arrived guests in, with all the minute details of their actual and imaginary ailments.I remember the contrast in ecstatic look on my grandparents face on the arrival of a guest and the edgy look on my parents face.
I have witnessed guests to stay for almost a month with my father or uncle making frequent trips to the reservation centre.These prolonged departures were always followed by a little treat at a place called Manohar's near the railway station, where all the ordeal of the last few weeks was quickly forgotten over delectable Chole Bhaturas and mastani Lassi.

But only a few weeks would pass and after the postman had made his daily visit,the jubilant shouts of my grandmother would inform us of another impending visit.These letters would be sometimes be as vague as "We are considering visiting you this summer".It would be after the arrival of one such postcard that my mother would dread the sound of a slowing auto.

Alas that was the golden era of my life but even today the sound of an auto in the wee hours of a cold winter morning, fills my heart with joy and floods my mind with all those wonderful memories.

The Room

2011-01-01T04:25:00.000-08:00

If you were to believe me (unlike my mother), my oldest memory goes as far back, as when I was only a few months old. This memory of mine must have lied there gathering dust in the corners of my mind for millions of moments. Today I can’t recollect which one brought it back. But it came to me like a long lost friend, on a warm sunny day, claiming it’s due.

At first the memory was dark and rusty, with time though, it became brighter, just like the days I must have spent in “The room”. What I remember, is like a scene from one of those black and white movies where everything seems to be happening in slow motion. The way I see it or maybe the way I want to see it, is the view as can be seen from a cradle. I see a small dark room, small because I can see a door that encloses the room only a few meters away. I also can almost see the faces which peep through the door every once in a while. I can feel the sunlight coming through the small window, right behind me. I do not remember the sounds that float in through it, but even today on one of those December days, they sometimes seem to come back to me. Sounds which make little sense to me but fill my heart with joy.

I also remember how quiet it was otherwise in my room, almost surreal .I also vaguely remember a toy hanging just above my cradle keeping me preoccupied; On other times, the familiar faces, which ever ,smiled so lovingly.I remember the polka dot frock and my favourite bunny.

My mom is adamant in not letting me own this vision of my childhood. She tells me it is not for real and that even if most of those details fall in place, it is highly unlikely that they are from a memory. Her explanation for it is that it was all planted, that I collected all those details through the stories that were told. I probably constructed the whole image on my own and I have been going over and over in my mind for so many times that it rings true.

She could be right but the romantic in me would like to believe that the memory is for real, and I hold it very close to my heart.

Pop corn

2010-11-20T23:02:00.000-08:00

As he hit his bed , he couldn't remember the last time he was home. Having a successful sales career meant he was always on the move.As he turned and tossed in bed trying to catch some shut eye, he chanced upon some strewn Pop Corn underneath the bed cover.He could not help but smile,It had all started over popcorn.Ah those were the good old days.All you needed to impress a girl back then was a bucket of popcorn and some coke.Come to think of it , it was not so long ago.Just about eight years.Love was new then.He had this huge crush on his sister's new best friend.For a long time he was hesitant to do anything about it.It didn't seem appropriate to ask her out directly and there always seemed to be so many other people around them .
" Here I got some Pop corn especially for you ! " he had said at the mall that day.They were this huge group of friends and for once he did not mind his baby sister tagging along."Make sure you bring a friend " he told her, knowing fully well who the obvious choice would be.
As soon as he had said it, he realized how lame it sounded.Popcorn especially for you ??!! he asked himself.She smiled rather smugly but the twinkle in her eyes overshadowed everything else.
Oh he had fallen badly for her ! She was not averse to his charms either.Before he knew,he had her hooked.
At the two year mark of their courtship a proposal was more than due.He had just landed a job at a big MNC and he bought the biggest diamond he could afford.She made a beautiful bride and he was the envy of everyone's eyes.
Those first few years of marriage seemed a little hazy .All he remembered was the caffeine shots in office which kept him going and the long fights back home.It was not the bliss they had hoped for , after all.She was demanding as a wife he told himself,in constant need of his time and attention .All he could give her was anger and dismissal in return .He did not know it then that he was loosing her day by day , hour by hour.He had no time no notice,he was engrossed in his work.
Whilst he leapt up the corporate ladder,she had managed to keep herself busy.She had a started a business of her own and her company proved to be the baby she never had.He had been supportive of her career.That is what she needs he had thought.She needed some space of her own.If you give her wings to fly , she may not cling so tightly he had thought.
Things did change.The fights seemed to fade away but so had the love making .
As he lay there in bed,wondering what had triggered the nostalgia,he felt this strong desire to be loved by her.He wondered how he had let love slip through his fingers.As he felt the warmth of his tears the memory came back almost in a surreal way.I am allergic to corn she had said ! He could barely hide his disappointment back then but it was the one thing of her's that he had always remembered.In fact he had jokingly said that his marriage vow to her would be that he would give up on pop corn.Funnily enough that was the only promise he had kept in all these years.
He got out of bed trembling,holding the pop corn in his hand.Suddenly it all became clear to him.As she walked in , she found him weeping like a baby.

Ambition

2010-10-27T01:31:00.000-07:00

As she sat there in her bathrobe drifting away, Roma had a vivid memory. Memory of a hot summer day, many years ago, of her Mother, fighting with her baba. At that time she was too young to know what it was all about. But as she stood there watching her mother make her case, little did she know that her mother had changed the course of her life. Years later when Ma told her that she had to fight with her baba to get her admitted into an English Medium school, it had all come back to her. From that day on, the memory was vividly emblazoned in her mind and today of all days it came back to her.
Roma was glad that her mother had managed to have her way that day; also she was surprised that her baba who loved her so much had wanted to put her in a Bengali medium school. But then that is how it was with her parents. Baba was the emotional one and Ma was the one who was more pragmatic, farsighted. She could see why her father had fallen in love with this beautiful and talented Bengali singer. But then she could sense that today her Ma was only a shadow of what she must have been all those years ago. It hadn't taken her mother long to realize that she would have to give up her dream to pursue a career in music after her marriage. She had ailing in laws to look after and there was this young brother in law, almost a child. As her mother had stood there as a young bride, looking into the innocent eyes of the child she knew she was to be a mother to ,she had stifled her dreams, resigned to her fate and told herself this was her destiny.
Back then what her Ma did seemed to be the right thing to do. Growing up she saw her Ma playing the role of a supportive wife, doting daughter in law and mother to her uncle to the hilt. She stood by her father as he reached the pinnacle of success, rejoiced by the sidelines and watched him take all the accolades.
But all these Years as her mother toiled through the life that she had chosen for herself, she made a silent promise to herself. She wowed she would not let her daughter fall into the same trap. She would ensure that her daughter will not succumb. She would see her daughter fulfilling her dreams, achieve success that mattered, that stood the test of the world. Throughout her daughter's growing years she made sure she instilled this sense of freedom and independence in her little princess. Oh so many of her own dreams hovered around her daughter, waiting to gain wings, to take flight.
As Roma struggled to find her way in the world, she knew she carried her mother's burden. She couldn't help but smile to think of how proud her mother was when she got her first job, how the tears wouldn’t stop. That day her Ma made peace with the world. Although Roma was as relieved as her mother was, she could sense that she could only imagine the weight of the cross that her Ma bared.
Today as she sat there thinking of her mother she tried very hard to fight back her tears. She could feel their sting, just as her mother would have felt the sting of betrayal that cold December day not so long ago. She knew it then that it would not be easy to tell Ma, that she was taking a break from work. But she was left with no choice. Her boss had refused to give her the option to work from home after her pregnancy. She decided she would take it easy, that a sabbatical would do her no harm. It had not been so easy to convince Ma though. Only for a short while she told her. She offered to help, said this was bad timing, that she was up for a promotion soon. But the independent streak in her stopped her from seeking any help. She knew she was doing the right thing, the biological clock ticking.
She had told her it was all right to give up her career for her unborn child. She told her it would make her happy. Her Ma did not do a very good job of hiding her disappointment. She was shattered. But what could she have done, she found herself helpless yet again.
Roma had not felt her pain then for she was not a mother yet. Not just yet. Three months later as she held her daughter in her hand, tears of joy burning down her cheeks, she wished the world for her little princess.
As weeks turned into months Roma found herself battling the trials and tribulations of motherhood. There were days when she was overwhelmed by it all, when she cursed her own child. The feeling soon turned into guilt and then remorse. She knew what her heart wanted but was she right to want it? Her husband did not know her anguish; he did not feel her pain. Wasn't motherhood rewarding enough he seemed to ask?
Day after day as she took care of her baby, life seemed to pass her by. Roma made a promise to herself. She told herself that her daughter would not suffer as she did. She will get to live the life of her dreams, make it big.
The thought possessed Roma like it had possessed her mother not so many years ago. It gave her the strength to go on but then one day she could not take it anymore. Was this what would become of her ambition? Was she so helpless that all she could do was to pass my dreams to the next generation, in the vague hope that they would find wings? Was one Woman's ambition to become the burden of another? Will they always be so helpless?

It was the strength she had inherited from her mother that made her make that call. As she hesitated to dial the number, she wondered if her boss remembered her. But then he had always liked her. In fact her colleagues always teased her about how he flirted with her. She was overjoyed when he agreed to meet her. A rendezvous at a hotel sounded only practical. She debated whether she should tell her husband, but then did he really care? She thought she will tell him once she had an offer in hand. She wondered if he would be supportive. As she struggled to keep all such negative thought at bay, she smiled as she imagined how thrilled her Ma would be.

She snapped out of her daze as she heard the door latch. As she watched him come out the bathroom, with that rueful smile on his face, she knew she had passed the interview. The cross had been demolished she told herself, she had relieved her daughter of the burden.

Riding in Autos with Autowalas

2009-12-28T02:51:00.001-08:00

I dread it every day.In fact I walk down the stairs of my apartment every morning with a laden heart and heavy steps.

As soon as I am out the hunt begins.Well lets not talk about the hunt(That is material for some other post , some other day).What I do want to talk about is the ride.Thank God for the technology other wise I would not have been able to write this one on paper what with my hands still shaky and trembling.

What a ride it was.The moment I stepped into the auto, I realized this one was for thrills.

Before I was barely seated in the auto our man had stepped on the accelerator.As far as he was concerned the race had begun.As I sat there muttering something about auto's having seat belts, I realized we were on the main road (newly built road).For our man this was black ice.

Now the self proclaimed expert that I am in behavioral analysis,I have realized that in such situations it is best not to let your emotions show.If you scream and rant about how fast the beast is driving ,you just fall into the trap.That is the part he enjoys more than the crazy driving.After every crazy turn,scary overtake and signal jump he looks in the rear view to see if it has had it's effect(Or maybe just to check if I was still in there and had not tumbled out in one of his acts)

So as I sat there poker faced holding on tight and trying very hard not cringe every time I thought he killed somebody.I felt what most people must feel when they see a gun before their eyes.

My whole life flashed before me.I wished I had lived a more fuller life.I frowned at myself for not hugging my husband in the morning.I wished I had finished the last few pages of the book I was reading(Now I will never know what happens in the end :( ). I began wondering about "who will cry If I die".As I was coming up with this list with tears in my eyes, the auto screeched to a halt.As I let go of my grip,opened my eyes and peeped out shakily to check who had died(Thanking god that it was not my day),I realized much to my relief that we had reached our destination.Or rather I had reached mine while he sped away to another journey.

As I stepped into my office, I felt this vague sense of renewal.It was as if I had seen the white light and managed to cheat it(Yeah this was my death defying moment).I vowed to not let this happen to me again.That the next time I am on this ride I will have no regrets,that I will live my life to the fullest and will live in the moment...but then that day could be tomorrow..Just another day with just another auto wala...

2009-11-16T22:53:00.000-08:00

How Time Flies

2009-10-28T07:20:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when you look back, it seems like time just flashed by...
Sometimes I can't help but wonder if I have been transported here through a time machine or something (Like one of those Stephen King novels)..Because it feels like only yesterday when I was wondering how life would be today...(Yeah the time machine makes you a little delusional)
Anyway I have this funny feeling that suddenly I will find myself with two kids and a dog and one day(Or maybe just a cat) ,thinking that it was just yesterday when I was wondering what today would have in store...
So as I sit here and ponder over life and wonder how it would be tomorrow , I know that I will be transported to another world soon ..That day it will seem like it was only yesterday when I did not know how today would be like..
It is the feeling you get once your exam results come out..some times they leave you feeling vindicated , sometimes they pull you down..
But then I realize I get another chance(At everything that matters)..This exam I can write again.and again..Till I get it right....
but at the end of it all when I have it figured out , I will be left thinking ,it was only yesterday that I wondered how today would be like..How time just flashed by ...