And the six word story series is back!
Closure is overrated. Reopened wounds bleed.
And the six word story series is back!
Closure is overrated. Reopened wounds bleed.
“Ouch,” she uttered, pulling back her finger from the rose stem. A thorn had pricked her and a drop of blood lay on her finger, perfectly placed like it always belonged there. She smiled.
“Got yourself another prick, did you now?” her husband asked, as he sat in the hall, immersed in the morning’s papers on his iPad.
“Why can’t he just buy those traditional newspapers?” she wondered. She wasn’t an e-paper girl.
“Why don’t you hire a gardener for your plants?” he asked, the umpteenth time. “You keep pricking yourself.”
She didn’t answer. The umpteenth time. He wouldn’t be able to come to terms with it.
The first time she’d pricked herself was when her first lover had brought her some from his own garden, ten years ago.They’d never gotten married. But her love for him had not died.
He loved her rose garden. He was coming for dinner tonight.
The first prick had made her squirm. Now it made her smile.
He was rummaging through old letters his deceased wife had written him during a long marriage and before. He also found his first and only Valentine Day card from thirty years ago.
Tears welled his eyes immediately when he read and re-read the sender’s name etched in crayons. He called her. This would be his first conversation with her in more than two years. “I want to take you out for dinner today. Will you be my valentine?”
She wasn’t sure if she should even receive the call but she did. “Me? But, Daadu. Also, today is the 21st of January,” said his recently divorced thirty eight year old grand daughter.
“I found the Valentine Day card you’d made for me years ago,” he said, not going into further details.
Eyes closed, she pursed her lips and barely managed to say, “I’ll pick you up at seven PM today,” before tears brimming with happiness rolled down her cheeks.
What is time?
The ticking of the seconds hand. Dawn giving way to dusk. Mondays coming back! The turning of the pages on a calendar. The change of calendars itself!
Wikipedia has a more interesting explanation :
Time is a component quantity of various measurements used to sequence events, to compare the duration of events or the intervals between them, and to quantify rates of change of quantities in material reality or in the conscious experience.
We are at the edge of changing of calendars now. We throw out all things 2016 and bring in 2017. It’s a chance for people to start afresh, break away from the routine and monotony of dreams being chipped off, make new resolutions again and hoping this would be the year when they get completed!
2016 was a mixed year. Like any other year. And as we have less than 24 hours left to complete another trip around the Sun, I am going to grab this chance to end 2016 on a happy note!
Here’s to a happier, healthier, crazier and love filled new year for all of you! ❤
Welcome 2017. Be better than 2016.
Pssst : Do you even recall what your 2016 resolutions were? How much of it did you manage to achieve? Let me know! And then I’ll share mine! Till then, I am trying to recall exactly what they were! 😀
One of my fascinations has always been ballroom dancing! Though not strictly ballroom, salsa is what my feet dabble in these days.
Salsa, believe me, teaches you life lessons! And so much about interpersonal relationships. No, no! Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Read on.
1. Twirl the girl!
So salsa, like most other ballroom dances, requires the men to take lead. So, my dance partner, gets to take me forward, backward, left, right, all at his own will. Boot up, men! You get the girl and also get to make her dance and spin at your own will. Does your girlfriend or girl friend allow you that otherwise? 😉
Also, you find it’s not so easy taking command of the ship, don’t you? So value those who do. 🙂 Irrespective of their genes.
2. Actions speak louder than words!
Now that you get to twirl and spin the girl at your own free will, how do you tell her what your will is? You can’t tell her, ‘shush, left now’, ‘no, no, anti-clockwise twirl’, ‘go, right, right, not left’ in the middle of the song. Who’ll count the beats, feel the tune and dance freely then?
So what do you do? You gently direct her, lead her with that hand of yours on her shoulder, and not say aloud! It requires practice, patience and response. Also gives you a life lesson!
3. You make mistakes and you accept them!
You will miss counts, step on your partner’s feet (sometimes on your own feet too!), become clumsy after doing very graceful turns – all of that’ll happen, whether you’re in the first beginner’s class or almost completing your advanced classes. But with the music still playing, what do you do after committing a mistake? Accept it, apologise and move on! Improvise.
4. Helps avoid the mirroring psychology.
Wikipedia says, “Mirroring is the behaviour in which one person subconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family.”
Note, mirroring happens subconsciously. You don’t realize when it’s taken over and you are slowly blending into the crowd and losing your uniqueness.
But when you’re dancing with your partner and you start mirroring them, i.e. you start looking too graceful as a man, or too macho as a woman, you consciously start tearing yourself from mirroring. You start holding out your own self, accepting yourself as you are and hopefully even loving it.
5. Feminism, much?!
Yes, salsa requires the men to lead and women to follow. Isn’t that what the whole world is screaming about? Or at least half of it. But. Everything in life isn’t about feminism. Sometimes it’s okay to let the men lead not because they’re men, but because the dance requires it and women are inherently more graceful at spinning and twirling than men are. It’s okay to let go and trust your partner. And even if he does fail you, help him get up and succeed together!
Also, I am not a feminist. More, a humanist.
P.S. : Keep dancing!
A mother-daughter duo peacefully watching a Tom Cruise film. He’s just started to run.
Mother gets a call. Daughter gets to hear only one side of the conversation.
Mother : Hello ji. Salutations!
Mother : All well, yes!
Mother : Oh! No, not really.
Mother’s tone is now changing. On the screen, Tom Cruise is running faster!
Mother : Of course!
Mother gives daughter a look. Daughter knows this look. A storm is approaching.
Mother : It’s not a problem at all!
Mother : See you! Buh-bye!
Tom Cruise is still running. The man needs to learn when to stop! Mother pauses his film. Cruise is cruising in the air.
Half an hour has passed. Mother is in the kitchen. Daughter is cleaning up the place. Guests are coming over for lunch, having self-invited themselves! Time to refurbish the house!
Daughter looks around the hall. Pleased with herself at having cleaned up early.
Daughter : Mom, it’s done! I’ve cleaned up the place.
Mother (peeks out of the kitchen) : What’s done? Fluff those cushions. Put your shoes back in the rack. I still see things on the dining table! Why is your mobile on charge? And will you shut off the music! It’s getting on my nerves!
Flabbergasted Daughter : Umm, Mom? I’ll go out in an hour, remember. Why put the shoes back then? And the things on the dining table? They’re called cutlery. In which you’ll serve them food. But if you want, I can get banana leaves! And my mobile is on charge because it is very normal to charge mobiles! Like we stay here, remember? And Kishore Kumar is getting on your nerves?
Mother (barely audible over a running grinder) : You’re not going anywhere. Not when I have guests over! And do what I ask you to do!
Daughter (sighing in exasperation) : Of course, I am not going anywhere now. Time to shut you down today, Cruise. Mom’s not going to be watching you save the world today. She’s too busy going bonkers.
Mother : Will you get me the vegetables from the refrigerator?
Daughter (laptop, speakers, mobile, chargers all under her arms) : Well, if you’d asked me to, then I would. But you never did.
Mother : Keep these devices away. And get me the vegetables now!
Daughter : Yes, Madam!
Mother : And hurry up!
The guests have arrived. Lunch has been had. Now is the wait. The wait for them to leave.
Guest 1 : The food was so good! How did you manage to make it so soon?
Mother : Oh nothing of the sort. I was as it is planning on making something special for lunch today.
Daughter (thinking to herself) : If only they knew that the lunch special was two minutes of maggi!
Guest 2 : Then we should come over more often!
Mother and daughter look at each other and then smile at the guests.
Mother : Why not!
Daughter : Why? Umm, not.
On a scale of 1 to 10, how worked up is your mother when guests are to arrive? Mine is 11! 😉
P.S. : Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is NOT coincidental. Any character and event depicted here is NOT fictitious. Similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is NOT coincidental.
We are all broken. Yes, you read it right. We are all broken, in some way or the other. A heartbreak, death, failure, lost friendship, loneliness, disease – the demons are endless and varied. It’s a spectrum, where every person has their individual place reserved. Yet, we fail to acknowledge, accept, deal with such a simple truth. We fail to be a support, a shoulder, a helping hand to others. We choose to not look beyond ourselves. We worry our own worries, magnify our own problems, fail to rejoice life’s little moments of happiness, forget to be kind to others, judge galore and appreciate paltry.
No one, not you, me, the richest, or the strongest, the oldest, or the holiest is perfect – perfection is an illusion. Our scars help us stand out, tell our stories, make us human, be our lessons. There’s nothing wrong with pulling down your walls and opening up to others. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength, a strength which not many have, a strength which gives you the courage to love back even with a broken heart. It’s okay to be scared, afraid of another scar, fearsome of the negativity others may poison you with, but it’s also okay to trust, to take small steps towards an outstretched helping hand, to acknowledge another’s love, to shed the cloak of invisibility, to remove the mask of a smile.
Life may seem difficult when you’re facing it all alone. But you don’t have to. Help comes to all those who ask for it. You just need to ask. There’s a heart out there which will make your breaks whole. Don’t let go of that hope. Also. Be that hope to others.
I’ve come a long way,
From that fateful day,
Where all I could think of was
Getting you to stay,
While all you did was push me away.
Now and then, things would sway,
Giving me hopes that you would stay,
But alas that wouldn’t happen,
Not how I wanted, anyway.
“For the baby’s sake,” I would say,
The little brown eyes would see your way,
But you would turn away,
Tears welling up in your eyes,
The battles you faced were bigger anyway.
There were days, when you were happy and gay,
And others when you would look out at the bay,
I would sit beside you all day,
Waiting for you to let me in on your thoughts.
Worse became the passing day,
Your smile was a needle in a stack of hay,
All day home we made you stay,
Afraid you would fall prey,
To the darkness we pulled you from.
But you fell into it, day after day,
Too late for us to mend the way,
“You deserve to be happy,” I’d say,
And that “together we would slay”
But you got addicted to the pain.
When I found you that day,
On the floor as you lay,
To you I wanted to say,
That to be weak once a while was okay,
But it was much more than you could take.
With your life you chose to pay,
To rid yourself of the darkness of the day,
In our hearts you still stay,
But not the way I wanted anyway,
The guilt of failing you still noosed tight.
Picture Courtesy : Pinterest
If marriages are indeed made in heaven, are you telling me God actually went about match making on the basis of caste? Or religion? Or even for that matter on the basis of gender?
Souls, as per last understanding, were gender-less. Caste-less. And religion-less. So how can my soulmate be from the same religion or caste as me?
Shouldn’t arranged marriages and ‘matches are made in heaven’ be mutually exclusive?
P.S. : This post is by no means an attack on your personal beliefs. I’m rather questioning mine.
A suitable boy – now we know what defines a boy, but what defines suitable exactly? A boy who loves you passionately but is from another religion by birth is unsuitable? A boy who believes in pursuing his passion for writing over his profession of law is unsuitable? Or a boy with whom none of the girl’s choices, views, and even interests match while also being torn over another female whom he couldn’t marry is suitable? And why?
Well, for starters, no, I am not getting married or being appraised by future mother-in-laws. This is the result of reading the book which shares the same title as my post.
I don’t know about the world in general, because no one can claim to know or speak on behalf of the world, considering we are a big, fat group of 7 billion people and counting steadily every second. But I can speak for what I have seen. Why try and define suitable? Why put people in boxes and categorize them away like they are files to be indexed and filed away? Why can’t we invest time in building relationships and understanding people rather than checking off their ‘suitable’-ness off a checklist? Why do parents feel the need to thrust their opinions on us all the while expecting us to listen and abide by it because we were borne into this world by them? Now, now. Don’t get me wrong. The opinion and blessings of parents are an absolute must – because they have seen your faults and frailties and still accept you lovingly.
To quote John Green, ” Whenever you’re furious with your parents or you think they’re terrible, just remember, you vomited on them and they kept you”.
John’s right. But I am concerned when parents who are generally free-spirited, open minded and modern turn into society-fearing, tradition-abiding and decision-thrusting parents – and that generally happens when it comes to marrying off their offspring. Of course, you want the best and the most suitable boy for us, but what scales are you using to weigh ‘best’ and ‘suitable’?
I doubt anyone’s getting answers to these questions any time soon. But if someone does, please let me in!
P.S. : Without any disrespect to Mr. Vikram Seth, I am quite disappointed with how his story turned out to be. Or maybe he meant to write it as a satire. Then it would make more sense, yes. Because when he’s casting a web of love, passion, lies, deception, extra-marital affairs, incest, prostitutes, (along with politics, religion, cricket, shoe-making and poetry) and then telling me that an arranged marriage of a bold, talented, intelligent and strongly opinionated young lady with a man who’s heart lies with someone else but a steady job and good management skills make him a suitable boy, then I’m mighty disappointed. Because your web has a lot of loose ends that need tying up.
Oh and let’s not discuss the length. A mere one thousand four hundred and something pages. With possibly as many characters and plot points. Beautiful but a tad unnecessary. Enriching but not satisfying.
P.P.S. : The P.S. seems to be half as long as the post! Vikram Seth after effects! 😉