Tag Archives: Mother

Of People and Things.

Naksh was singing at the top of his voice! “Papparah Papparah Papparah… Badtameez Dil Badtameez Dil… Ahh… Haan

“Oh shut that radio thing off and stop jumping on the bed,” Shailjaa scolded her eight year old son, Naksh!

No longer jumping, he smiled at her and stood there, the hand held radio his father bought as a gift, still blaring what people called music these days!

She was still angry at him but this child of hers could not be least bothered! He’d misplaced her earrings and she couldn’t find it anywhere. She was sure she’d given to him to go and keep it by the bedside table. She’d even boxed his ears two hours ago but he came back and sat beside her in no time! Now he was jumping on the bed unashamed.

“Get out,” she said, dropping the freshly ironed bed covers and pillow cases on the bed. “I have to change the bed sheet.”

“Mummy, I am sorry,” he said, and walked out of the room, forlorn and dejected, head hung.

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Shailjaa didn’t reply.

She pulled off the old covers angrily. Unfurling the new covers, she went to the headboard side and struggled to pick up the mattress alone to push the new covers beneath. Something fell from behind the mattress onto the floor beneath. She bent down and looked under the four poster bed. Two pieces of gold shone out to her. One within her reach, the other rolled off to the other end. She crawled under the bed and got her hands on both the pieces. She craned her neck upwards to look at the bed from under. A coffee flavored toffee was sticking out from behind the mattress, fighting gravity, pinched in place. She pulled it out too and crawled back out from under the bed. She sat on the floor, head resting on the bed, turning the earrings back and forth. They were the ones for which she’d boxed her son’s ears. She felt terrible, devastated almost. She now recalled picking it from the bedside table and having kept it on the bed. They must have gotten wedged between the mattress and the headboard during the course of the night. She lay her head on her knees and held herself close. She sat that way for more than a few minutes and swore to herself she’d put people over things here onwards.

Getting up from her place on the floor, she went out of the bedroom to look for her son. He was standing in the balcony, listening to the radio. She snuck up behind him and dangled the toffee in front of his eyes. He whirled around and smiled broadly. But then he saw her face and his smile dimmed a little. Her heart pricked.

“You want this?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

She felt sad.

But then he said, “I want the mango flavor.”

Her heart jumped with joy! “I’ll get you those later. Right now, will you please help me with covering the bed?” she asked.

He nodded her head vigorously. Then he raised a finger and asked, “Can I jump on the bed after that?”

“Yes, we both will,” she said, laughing.

Beaming with joy, he ran towards the room, and she noticed as she followed him, that his radio was lying in the balcony. She picked it up and placed it on the table – a lesson learnt.

Graciously Yours!

Marmee!

She’s flawed. Yet she’s perfect.

She’s elegant. She’s hardworking. She’s barely tired. She’s always concerned.

She taught me to accept nothing lesser than what I deserve. She made me bold. She proved women are at par with men.

She put me to sleep on long days. She stroked my hair telling me how proud I made her. She let me make up my mind about what is right and what wrong.

She taught me life. She learnt from me too. She shared her mistakes, overlooked mine. She broke rules. Yet she respected them.

She let me fly free. She brought me back to the earth when I lost my way. She cried at my success. She held me through my failures.

She fought for me. She let me hold her when she was weak. She showed me her weakness. She became my strength.

She’s my ‘Marmee’. And I couldn’t have asked for any better!

Some days, I miss you here. Other days, I write about you! 😉 Love you, Mom!

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Graciously Yours!

Life Notes #10.

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Among the few worldly possessions I own, these are a few stones that I have. Actually they are more like pebbles from river beds. I’ll leave you guessing how I ever even laid my hands on them!

I took them out after a really long time today. A friend suggested an idea which I turned down initially but later seemed appealing to me in my boredom. The idea was primitive! Literally. Could we start a fire with these stones?

I tried it obviously. Under parental guidance! The only guidance my mother had was “Please keep the stones away from your face.”

I tried. I struck the pebbles hard and fast against each other. I was eagerly waiting for a spark to ignite! I’m sure if you looked into my eyes then, you could have seen the sparks of excitement! Well, turns out they were the only sparks.

You know how long I tried? I tried for almost four times the attention span of average humans. I tried for 30 whole seconds.

Well it’s not my fault that humans on an average have an attention span of eight seconds now. We’re down from twelve seconds in 2000. Even a goldfish has an attention span of nine seconds average, a full one second more than ours! Yes, that teeny weeny goldfish which has a teenier weenier brain weighing 0.097 grams (Average human brain weighs 1.5 kilogram).

Note to self : Primitive life wouldn’t suit me. I think that the primitive man/woman who first started the fire by striking the stones for, apparently, a very, very long time was more angry than bored! Boredom suits me. Anger doesn’t. I’m happier without pebble fire!

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : How long would it really have taken to ignite a spark though? Anyone knows? Or is it all up to Google again?

How do I convince Mother that my 23 year old self can have usable shelf decor ideas?

Urgent help needed! Mothers preferred.

So I began putting my shelf decor ideas to Mother the way I actually pitch my ideas to my boss. Small talk first and then when I have judged his mood and inclination to discuss ideas, I slowly, very slowly, push the idea towards him. Obviously, I chip in the ideas like they were always his and that time had been a constraint for him to implement the ideas. And that he was the one who’d inspired me to actually come up with them. It works out fine for me mostly. I tried the same with Mother. It turns out that the small talk I do is extremely boring. She shooed me away. I never reached the second stage.

After a while I decided to be direct and straightforward so I went up to her and said, “It’s my room. It’s my shelf. I want it my way.” The look she gave me was enough to shut me up. I slinked away.

As I write this, I have decided to present my decor ideas to her without throwing my weight around. As if that really mattered much. But what should I say to her? How do I get her to look at my shelf decor ideas without her rejecting them out rightly? How do I convince my Mother that her daughter who otherwise flops around the house, cracks the weirdest of jokes at inopportune moments, cares about her blog like it’s her baby, finds comedy shows boring and suspense thrillers funny has usable decor ideas! Even if they’re as random as this :

ideas-for-bookselves magnetika-soggiorno Interesting-Shelf-Design-in-Random-like-Cells-Position

Which they are not. Absolutely not this random. Psst. Aren’t they good though?

Let’s not divert!

Help please. While I go to put on the protective gear, please get your ammunition ready! We need to fire them fast. Or are we going for a truce?

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : Mother, if you are reading this, you’ve obviously read whatever I wrote above. Before you come looking for me, I only want to say :

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Same goes for you, boss!

Pictures Courtesy : Pinterest.

Freestyle Writing Challenge ~ Mischief.

I was nominated by Hargun to attempt a free style writing challenge. She has a terrific blog! Do land up there too.

So here are Rules I had to follow:

  1. Open an MS Word document
  2. Set a stop watch or your mobile to 5 minutes or 10 minutes whichever challenge you think you can beat.
  3. You topic is at the foot of this post BUT DO NOT SCROLL DOWN TO SEE IT UNTIL YOU ARE READY WITH A TIMER.
  4. Fill the word doc with as much words as you want. once you began writing do not stop even to turn.
  5. Do not cheat by going back and correcting spellings and grammar with spell check in MS WORD (it is only meant for you to reflect on your own control of sensible thought flow and for you to reflect on your ability to write the right spelling and stick to grammar rules)
  6. You may or may not pay attention to punctuation and capitals. However if you do, it would be best.
  7. At the end of your post write down ‘No. Of words =_____’ so that we would have an idea of how much you can write within the time frame.
  8. Do not forget to copy paste the entire passage on your blog post with a new Topic for your nominees and copy paste these rules with your nominations (at least 5 bloggers).

GOOD LUCK!

Here’s what I managed on the word ‘Mischief’!

Mischief ~ the first few things running across my mind when I think of mischief encompasses ‘Mischief managed’ which only Potterheads will genuinely appreciate, or possibly a dog named Mischief. But that’s just probably because I was discussing dogs and their barkings and whimperings with a friend! 

Let’s get you something more intresting though!

She sat playing with her toys. Her mother was across the floor feet away shelling peas for the next year whole. They were to be refrigerated tonight. Round, succulent balls of green. The little one stared at them, eyes gleaming with mischief. She wanted those. Her toys were boring! She slowly started casting across her toys. The mother looked up. The baby was about to throw another tantrum she thought. She went into the kitchen, to boil the baby’s milk. Before the baby started bawling, she’d feed her and put her to sleep. That way her work get over faster. While the mother was away, the baby slowly crawled across to the bowls full of peas. She settled quietly in front of the bowls. She pushed in a fist to grab a fistful of those. She then withdrew her hand and threw them across the floor. Slowly, they bounced and then rolled all about her. She chuckled! Delighted she did this again. And again. She wanted more of them around her. She flapped her hands on the green balls. She moved her leg to change her posture. Something was bugging her bum. She saw a green ball roll out from benetah her. Her leg tilted the bowl halfway. She looked at it, smiling with a grin almost evil. She reached out to the bowl and tilted it further. All the balls ran out in a hurry!

“Whaaaat?!” her mother said out loud, standing across the hall staring at peas all around!

She stared up at her mother, proud of the work she’d done!

No. of words – 316.

Time taken – 10 minutes.

And my nominees would be :

Globalunison

The Uncertainty Principle

Part and Parcel

Cat Jenkins

Soul Mate’s – near yet so far

Archita Rai

Soumya Chakraborty

And your word is – wine.

Cook me up something special! 😉

Graciously Yours!

Of Darker Alleys (Part 2)


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She started walking faster. She had to get to the house early to make use of all the time she could get. She wanted to get away from them. She was desperate.

She reached the house. She could see the men standing outside impatiently. Bowing her head, lowering her eyes, she walked past them silently. She felt their eyes piercing her back. An involuntary shudder passed through her as she walked in through the wooden door. It was the last time she was going to do it.

It was a beautiful house. Much better than what she had been brought up in. The elders of the house had built it with much love and money. Latticed windows, carved doors, floral designs adorning the middle of the courtyard; she fell in love with the place when she saw it. She used to imagine how she would one day take care of it. Little had she imagined anyone could be as unhappy here as she had become.

Her mother-in-law was walking towards her. She muttered instructions to her. All she caught was the confirmation that they would be back in some time. Possibly half an hour. She didn’t listen to anything else. Not anymore.

The minute they left the compound to attend the neighborhood wedding, she ran to her room. She didn’t want to attend the wedding. It was a trade. The girl was being sold and she wouldn’t know it for a while. That is how the village was surviving. The current generation had almost no girls. Who would the boys marry? They killed their own daughters and bought daughters of other parents only to sell them off as commodities once their utility was over. Higher the demand, higher the price. She preferred the dried grasslands over such fake lushness. At least back at her place, they treated humans as humans.

She had put together a few of her clothes. She was still in two minds if she should run away with her baby or alone. She knew if they found the baby missing, they would not leave any stone unturned to get to her. But if she alone went missing, they might not even bother. With a heavy heart, she picked up her little cloth bag and crossed the length of the house to leave.

She stopped right at the main door. Her son was wailing. Her only son was wailing! She opened the door. She tried ignoring his cries. She could see her freedom waiting down the road. She could hear a hungry heart and an impatient stomach calling out to her.

The mother in her had decided. She had decided to remain human. She closed the doors on herself again. Clutching her bag to her chest, she ran up to his room. Her baby wanted her. Her freedom would have to wait today.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : I do not know about other countries but I do know that such practices are rampant in India. How rampant, where, since when ~ I wish I could answer those questions with surety, but I cannot.

Picture Credits : Ishita Shah.

Seeing me in you.

Looking into your eyes,

I lose myself in their depths,

My hands in yours,

Seem to melt all my troubles away.

Fingers entwined, feet in sync,

I can take the world head on,

Your faith in me,

Is much more than my trust in myself.

Taking you up in my arms,

Kissing your cheeks as I hear you giggle,

My dear little daughter,

It’s the sweetest sound to my ears.

When I look back into the past,

To not have heeded to your father,

I feel absolutely blessed,

You’re nothing less than God’s gift to me.

 

Sketched by - Graciously Yours!
Sketched by – Graciously Yours!

All those mothers who fought to keep their girl child alive whether as single mothers or fighting against their families — You rock!

Graciously Yours!

Diwali Post!

There are more than a couple of reasons why I am writing this post :

Firstly, to wish you all a really happy Diwali! It is an age old Indian festival depicting ‘good wins over evil’, traditionally celebrated as the Festival of Lights all over the country (which unfortunately, over the years has become more of festival of sounds with all the lights from the fireworks only adorning the skies.)

Secondly, my mother is not at home and this is the prefect opportunity to take a break because once she’s back with the flowers and all, the entire house needs to be decorated for the puja in the evening! (I’ll put up the photographs for y’all tonight!)

Thirdly and most importantly, Caesar (due credit to VJ for coming up with the name) is missing! That, below there, is Caesar!

Caesar

And when I say missing, I mean, this soft toy of a monkey which was sitting at the dining table at 2 am in the morning before I went to sleep, is missing from our home when I looked for it at 11 am today! It is not there. Not in the rooms. Not in the kitchen. Not in the balcony. Not in the washrooms. Not even in the cupboards and windows!

Which leaves me perplexed! And scared. I knew I should never have watched horror movies! Specially those with walking and talking dolls! Yikes!

Can a soft toy get up and walk out to celebrate Diwali? Considering we’re not bursting crackers this year at all to reduce some of our carbon footprint, did it get attracted to the fireworks-lit skies and decided to go for a stroll outside and lost his way back home? Or did not want to come back home?

Or did my granny hide it in some unchecked nook or crevice of our home just to get back at me for having scared her by placing the monkey near her last week when she was sleeping?

Or did my mother give it for dry cleaning and is not telling me because she is enjoying my bewildered, perplexed, puzzled, shaken reactions?

The last one makes most sense, but then where’s the fun in that!

Happy Diwali to everyone! May every day of your life see good winning over evil.

Graciously Yours!

P.S.: Where do you think Caesar is?

Pain.

“That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”
– Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars.

Their only son walked out of their life.

She knew he was feeling suffocated in their house. He could not have pursued what her husband wanted, anymore. He had wanted out for long but not this way probably. If only her husband had been less orthodox and more understanding, she wouldn’t have to see her son walk out the house with a suitcase full of belongings and his camera hung by his shoulder.

Her husband didn’t stop her son. Her son didn’t pay heed to her. She slipped in a wad of cash into his camera bag when she was sure that neither of them would be backing out. That was all she felt she had done for her only son. She tried persuading her husband to allow their son some freedom as he walked down the stairs. She said he was being abandoned. Her husband said he was running away from his responsibilities.

That was it. That was the last they had spoken of bringing back their son.

Three months later.

Like everyday for the past three months, she woke up to her son’s picture on her bedside table. Like everyday, she felt a knife slicing through her heart when she made breakfast for only two. Like everyday, she and her husband spoke of general things before he left for office. Like everyday, she cried a little after her husband left.

Like everyday, her husband touched his son’s picture before leaving for office. And like everyday, she wondered if they really were tears glistening in her husband’s eyes.

“You of all people know it is possible to live with pain.”

– Mrs. Lancaster, The Fault in Our Stars.

 

Graciously Yours!

Life Notes.

My mother rarely reads my blog. Just because…

With the 100 Happy Days having been conquered, I was really excited and insisted at least thrice (in two minutes!) about reading my blog.

She gave in! And then she started going through the other posts I had put up and as fate would have it, landed up at this :

In this digital age of love, is it too much to ask if I want your hand in mine and not my phone…

If I want you in front of me and not my laptop…

If I want …

And I just kept looking around because this was turning awkward! Not ‘cuz I was hiding a relationship from her (Gosh! There has to be one to hide one!), but ‘cuz she starts reading my stuff after so long and stumbles across this? Of all posts, why this? Now, she would be more curious about my relationship with a guy rather than my relationship with words!

You must be knowing how moms can be. I am sure her first reaction on reading the piece was, “Is my girl really good enough to make this up or is she dedicating it to someone?”

Fortunately, (or unfortunately, only time will tell!), she didn’t react after reading the post, but simply asked, “Anything else I should read?”

And I went all out with an “Absolutely not!”.

Because that… was embarrasing.

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Moms know it all!

Life Note To Self : Mothers know best. If they refrain from reading your work, let them! They are just saving you the embarrassment.

Graciously Yours!

P.S. : My mother’s a working woman with an almost liberal mind by Indian standards. But I guess, not liberal enough to save me the blushes!

P.P.S : The sketch is by me. Even if you do not like the post, I’d still adore you if would leave a word or two about the beautiful mother and child! 🙂