Tag Archives: respect

Blowing Off The Candle.

Birthdays – most love it, some dread it! Some feel wiser, others feel older. Some ignore it, some party harder than other days. If nothing else, a birthday heralds the announcement of completing yet another year on this wonderful planet! If I was on Mars, I’d currently be just 13! Be a Mercurian and I’d be 156 days old but only 104 years old! Go figure that out! Or you could just ask me in the comments. Plutonians say my first birthday would be in 2240 Earth year. Yeah, yeah I know Pluto isn’t a planet but hello, it still does exist even if as a dwarf planet or whatever it is that scientists want to call it these days, okay?

So coming to the point, I just clocked a good number of years on the Earth and I don’t know if I am wiser or old, or both or none, but I sure did enjoy it! Less than some days but more than most days! It isn’t easy spending your special days away from the family but when you have the loveliest set of people in your life, distances vanish before you even know it! Oh and guess what! I can finally say I celebrated my birthday Harry Potter style! Replete with a wand, broomstick and even the Marauder’s Map. 

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Love poured in from all quarters, cents and pences but the most creative is right here! 

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That, ladies and gentlemen, is Justin Trudeau! And that is obviously not sent by Trudeau, but I wish that’d happen! Instead, a friend came up with this to compensate for my constant ranting about Trudeau! Well, the man deserves love for spreading goodness and hope. Also, Elon Musk. Much respect. 

Oh but it’s not done yet! The week may be coming to an end, but the love hasn’t. Wishes still keep pouring in and sometimes I wish I could just switch off my cell, because saying so many thank you’s can be a pain after a while. But to think of it, when else do we really get time to connect with so many of our family and friends in a day?

They say what goes around, comes around. ❤

Graciously (older and wiser) Yours!

Oh wait. That’s not the end!

P.S. :

Here’s a checklist for your birthday –

  • DO NOT go and surprise your friends the night before your birthday! You don’t want to ruin the surprise they might be planning for you. 
  • DO NOT rush to open the door either! It might be the cake delivery guy!
  • DO keep your power bank handy. Phones don’t get an iota of rest.
  • DO make sure you have your face wash at arm’s distance, lest some one puts cake on your face yet another time.
  • DO NOT keep food items that can be applied on the face lying around. They’re harmful for you.
  • DO NOT wear white to work, unless you can convince your colleagues to keep the cake away. Or unless your colleagues don’t order cakes.
  • DO remember to wish anyone who might share your birth date!
  • DO smile each time someone wishes you! You’re making their day. And mine too. Well, ‘cuz you just followed my checklist, right? 😉

After All This While? Always.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he said.
“I know. But I am trying to. Doesn’t that count?”
They had started as lovers, failed and then tried becoming friends.

As she sat by him at his hospital bed tonight, she thought of this conversation. Ten years had passed since then. They were no longer lovers and barely friends. But when she came to know he was ill, she dropped everything to be by his side.

Sitting across from the bed was his wife. Her hair had greyed too early. She looked at her, sending the wife vibes of strength. They both knew of their role in his life. And his honesty would bring them together as friends for life.

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Graciously Yours!

 

The Rebel’s Wife (2)

For all those who’ve been wanting more, specially the female who asked me at least thrice in the past week ~ here’s the rest of “The Rebel’s Wife“:

“Your father didn’t die in a road accident. Your father was killed on the road. The road was our home. We lost our house. We lost our land. We even lost our identity. The Government took away all that was ours. Or all that we thought we’d owned. And it didn’t even care. All it cared about was money. And we didn’t have any – for us or for them.”

She wiped her tears away. Years had passed and she’d seen worse days but she still went weak in her knees when she thought about those times. She looked into the eyes of her fifteen year old sons and continued.

“Your father, along with others, protested. They were agitating powerlessly against people so ruthless, so cruel and so unforgiving that I wondered if they were created by the same God. We were the wronged; but they looked down upon us. For days on end, we would be without proper food or water. A blanket was a luxury. Smiles seemed to have evaporated overnight. There would be children crying everywhere. Day or night, you could hear the shrieks of babies and the groans of the ill and old. The men were mostly away. Some came back to take their families elsewhere. By the end of the ordeal we were mostly women and children. No one cared if we lived or died. This went on for over a year. We were all scared. Some of us were paranoid. We thought our troubles would never end. But they did.”

“One form of trouble ended. The roads were no longer our homes. They were the burial ground for our men. And the homes they brought us to were the burial grounds for us women. They called my husband a rebel. A rebel he was. He rebelled for a home, for water, for food, for security, for identity, for a life. He rebelled for his family. And he rebelled for all the people he treated as family. He didn’t desert them and run. But he deserted us and died.”

She loved him. But she also hated him. And she let her kids know that today.

She got up to pack the twins’ bags. She was sending them off to the Army. Her country might treat her like the rebel’s wife, but she knew what her late husband wanted. Unlike him she didn’t see his vision of fighting for the masses against the classes but she never questioned him. She accepted that her fate was tied to her husband’s decisions.

Graciously Yours!

Flowers over birds.

Recently, I went to an undisclosed location (the mystery is alluring) where we can safely say that birds and flowers can be found in abundance among other things (and it was no bird park. Duh.).

From the blog : 1000 words or less. This blogger clicks fascinating pictures!

From the instagram of the blogger over at The Uncertainty Principle.
From the instagram of the blogger over at The Uncertainty Principle.

I have never fully appreciated the patience exuded by photographers who click bird pictures. Until I tried to capture their shots, of course! Birds are such elusive creatures! It seems as if they know that the shutter is going to close in on them and they just have to ruin the frame! So while my friend went on trying to capture birds, I stuck to the flowers. Well, for one they’re colourful and many. And secondly, THEY DON’T RUIN THE SHOT BY FLYING AWAY!!

Tucked safely within.
Tucked safely within.

Windmill much?
Windmill much?

Who said three is a crowd?
Who said three is a crowd?

Fallen but not lost.
Fallen but not lost.

So what if I can't capture birds? Bird's nest, it is.
So what if I can’t capture birds? Bird’s nest, it is.

Which reminds me that I have a bird shot from an earlier trip! Well, technically not so much because these birds don’t really fly away. But. Yeah. Whatever.

Hah! It's not impossible. Though improbable.
Hah! It’s not impossible. Though improbable.

Graciously Yours!

Pictures Courtesy : 

1000 words or less. (Brilliant photographer, I tell you.)

Prateek (@pk9692) from The Uncertainty Principle.

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!

Away she flew.

 

She strode

 

Past the onlookers

 

The staring eyes

 

The pointed fingers.

 

 

 

 

 

She strode

 

On the path less strewn

 

On the road less traversed

 

On the course which was harder.

 

 

 

 

 

She climbed the ledge

 

Shushed all the whispers

 

Spread her arms

 

And leapt.

 

 

 

Earlier, she strode.

 

Now, she flew.

 

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Graciously Yours!

P.S. : I haven’t painted that. A really talented cousin of mine did 🙂

The Night of the Wedding.

The Pensive Bride

“That is a beautiful wedding dress you’re wearing! Do you need any help?” Sweta came in, asking cheerfully.

“No, you’ve done so much already. Thank you so much! Your entire hotel staff has been very helpful,” gushed the bride, Payal.

“That’s the job, you know,” pat came the reply, knowing fully well that she always gave in more than required for wedding events.

“Oh and thank you for complimenting the saree. I designed it,” Payal said modestly. Softly, she added, looking into the mirror, “Probably one of my last.”

“Why?” Sweta asked, shocked! “It really is none of my business. I am sorry!” she added hastily.

“No, it’s nothing that personal. His parents aren’t really comfortable with my degree in fashion designing, being orthodox and all. So I am not pursuing professionally anymore. But it’s okay. I think I have made peace with it.”

“Payal, I don’t have any right to say this to you. And certainly not on your wedding day, but had I not spoken up during my wedding, I wouldn’t actually be here managing your wedding. I was to get married last year but my would be in-laws weren’t comfortable with a working daughter-in-law. I had nearly agreed to their demand too, but as the wedding came closer I was more and more unsure of the whole compromise. I spoke to my fiance, but unfortunately he didn’t have enough spine to stand up for me. So I took my own stand and here I am. And I can tell you I am not repenting the decision! In fact, my life’s happier today.”

“What do you mean, Sweta? What are you suggesting?!” the bride asked, aghast.

“Simply that you talk to your guy once and if he really loves you and deserves you, he’ll be there to stand by you. Otherwise, you seem to have already made peace with it. Almost. Have you spoken to him about it?”

“Actually, not that seriously, though I have thought about it a lot,” she confessed.

“I think you should talk to him. But only if you want to.”

She immediately picked up the phone and texted her fiance to come over to the bridal room.

“I have called him over. He’s coming in 2 minutes! Can you please stay?” Payal requested.

“Are you sure you want me to?” Sweta asked, going and holding the bride’s hand, and sitting beside her.

The bride simply nodded in return, breathing deeply.

“Everything alright, Payal? Oh hi, Sweta! Your decorations are turning out to be fantastic! I love what your team is doing.” Gaurav smiled, looking at both the ladies.

“I need to talk to you, Gaurav. And Sweta will stay.”

“Okay. Should I be afraid? What is it, Ma’am that seems to be making you so nervous?” Gaurav  asked, perplexed.

“Gaurav, I love you. A lot. And you love me too. I know that. But there is something I want from you before our wedding. I know I am being really silly picking this up now, but it’s important. I have been thinking about it for the past few days.”

“You’re scaring me, baby.”

“Let me complete,” she said cutting him off. “I am passionate about designing. I know I haven’t been successful enough to shut people up yet, but you know if I take those last few steps I can make it through. Your parents do not want me to work, but frankly I cannot see myself sitting at home waiting for you to come back from work everyday. I do not want to disrespect your parents at all or make them feel I am turning their son against them, but this is what defines me, Gaurav. My art. That is why you fell in love with me! Remember? All I am saying is I don’t think I am ready to give up on my career yet. You know, Sweta, wouldn’t have been fulfilling my dream wedding here if she had gone ahead with her own wedding! I admire her. She’s an amazing person. And she’s so happy because she dared to keep up with her passion. I don’t want to give up on my passion, Gaurav. I want to be happy with you and I am afraid if I give up my work I might end up blaming myself for not having had the courage to talk to you about it. That’s it.”

“That’s it? Payal, I never supported my parents’ decision regarding you giving up your work. And I would have to spoken to them if you had told me earlier!  You seemed so okay with it that discussing this never crossed my mind. I would never want you to give up what you love. Come here,” he said, walking up to her to give her a quick hug.

“Thank you so much, Gaurav. Thank you!” she said, feeling so relieved in his arms!

“Umm, can we not ruin the bride’s make-up please?” Sweta said gently, easing her way out of the room.

“Sweta, wait!” Payal said, walking over to her quickly to give her a tight hug. “I cannot thank you enough for what you just did. Now, I can get married carefree! I owe this to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Payal. Just promise me you’re going to design my wedding saree!”

“I wouldn’t let you get it designed by anyone else!” Payal mocked shockingly, while the other two laughed heartily.

And today, Sweta, felt like she’d arranged more than just a wedding. She’d supported another woman the same way her mother had supported her. She knew her mother would be the happiest today, had she been around. And, truly, the Heavens did smile down at her.
 
Graciously Yours!

P.S. : I am back! And yes, that’s sketched by me.

#Elections2014.

With the General Elections of India, ending on a high in India, there was no way I couldn’t write about it, though it is really, really cliched.
Bear with me, while you read this open letter to the new Prime Minister of India and acknowledge what it means to India and us Indians, after surviving a decade of incumbency and corruption in our country!
Sri Narendra Modi,

Namaskar! (Salutations!)

The radical changes which you have brought about in the thinking, aspirations and wishes of the youth of India is commendable, indeed!

You connected in a way no leader has earlier done, realizing and (maybe) making us realize our potential on the way, reminding us that we as a nation have a voice which will be heard, if only we speak out loud.

You surpassed expectations, broke dynastic rules, changed the political scenario, broke down the caste, creed, religion divides of India. You truly unified India, MODI-fied India (as popular norms, suggest!)

We have all done our bit, and now it is your turn.

Along with my heartiest congratulations on the historic and ground-thumping win that you and your party has achieved, I would like to give you my best wishes and hope and desire that we, as a Nation, will achieve unbounding success and prosperity under your guidance.

Graciously Yours!

At peace within.

 

 

Her petite frame stood by the window, the hands outstretched to feel the torrential rains pour down on her palms.

He went and held her by the waist, nestling her back into his arms.

They stood like that for ages it seemed. The chill in the air, peace in her breaths, the sound of the claps followed by her slightest shudders, brought him still closer to her. 

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore, and took her hand and slipped on the ring.

“Marry me, will you?”

He felt the sharp intake of breath, goosebumps run all over her while the skies lit up in full approval!

With quivering lips, a heart thudding out of her chest, she turned to bury her face in his torso. 

The tears welled in her eyes. They flowed down to his heart, as the nurse came in and said, “The patient needs to rest. She has her last chemo tomorrow.”

Graciously Yours!

Courage does not come with age.

She sat quietly in the corner of the class. At the edge of the seat. She was staring at the blackboard in front of her, thoughts wandering elsewhere. The teacher was writing in white. Her classmates were copying. Her partner nudged her out of her reverie, beckoned her to scribble along.

Continue reading Courage does not come with age.