Reliving the memories

Today I want to share some pics which are there in my mobile. They always bring a smile on my face. Whenever I feel sad or dejected, I scroll through the gallery in my phone. They always bring back this feeling of sweet nostalgia. They remind me of the happy times I have spent with my family and friends and immediately relaxes me :)

This is our Golden retriever enjoying in a lake. That day was especially hot and he got a chance to cool off in the water. This pic always brings a smile on my face:)

This pic was taken from our car window. It was raining and the sun was peaking out from the clouds. It looked surreal to me. It was taken from my mobile and the picture quality is not that great, but I love this pic.

This is Thannir Baavi beach in Mangalore. I love beaches. There was no crowd on the beach that day and it was so peaceful. Sunsets on the beaches are the best!

One more pic of our dog sleeping on my Mom’s lap. He sure is the baby of the house :)

These earrings are the first anniversary gift from my husband. Aren't they cute? :)

The Madman

I recently came across this beautiful piece written by Khalil Gibran:

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in
seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
'Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.'

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear
of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top
cried, 'He is a madman.' I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed
my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for
the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I
cried, 'Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.'

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in
us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail
is safe from another thief. 

This poem really sums up how we live with masks on all the time, hiding our true selves. We have molded ourselves based on the society's expectations. Let us be more more true to ourselves and learn to embrace ourselves as we are.

Miles to go before I sleep

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though; 
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

This is one my favorite poems by Robert Frost. There will be so many promises that we need to fulfill in our lifetime, so many responsibilities to be held and many expectations to be met. Sometimes it gets overwhelming and you just feel like running away somewhere far and just be by yourself with no one to question you or judge you.

This poem motivates you and makes you anxious at the same time. Miles to go before I sleep :)

Wanderlust-(WR)

The room was silent except for the sound of the tapping of keyboards. Rahul was sitting at his writing desk and emailing a client. Preethi was sitting on her bed, trying to finish an article, due to be submitted tomorrow. She finished it and shut her laptop. She looked up and saw that Rahul was still working. She sighed. Both of them had very demanding jobs and this was a common scene in their house everyday.

"What happened to us Rahul?" Preethi suddenly asked. Rahul lifted his head and looked at her, confused. "Remember when we were dating, we were such travel junkies. Every weekend we would take off to some or the other place. It was so much fun and it seemed like we had all he time in the world. But now, we just go to office, work, come home, work some more and go to sleep. There is no spark left. We are turning into those old, boring married couples with nothing to look forward to" Preethi said, morosely. "Well, what do you want to do then?" Rahul asked. "Lets go someplace for a few days, do some adventure, walk on the beach, soak in the rain, do anything but this" she said pointing to the laptop.

Rahul thought for a moment and suddenly started smiling. "You remember we had planned to go on a  road trip to Rajasthan but had cancelled in the last minute? Are you still interested?" he asked. "Yes, but how? We may require at least 2 weeks of leave" Preethi said thoughtfully. "This is what is wrong with us. We have given priority to work for a long time. Now lets prioritize and live for our selves for a few days. Come on Preethi just say yes" Rahul pleaded. "When do I start packing then?" Preethi asked and smiled at him.

Void-(WR)

She woke up in the morning and turned around to wish him good morning
But the other side of her bed was empty. She realized that he was no longer there.

When she absent mindedly prepared 2 cups of coffee instead of one, she realized he was no longer there.

When she saw a couple, laughing together and whispering sweet nothings in each others ears, she realized he was no longer there.

When she found his shirt and jacket strewn around in his cupboard, which still had his smell, she realized he was no longer there

At the end of the day when she returned to an empty house , she realized he was no longer there

When she felt a deep sense of loneliness and a void in her heart which can never be filled, she knew that he was no longer there and never coming back.

Uncouth-(WR)

"Remind me again Jane, why did we choose India as our holiday destination?" Rosie asked irritably, roaming around the streets of Jaipur. "Well it is a beautiful country. The people here are so friendly and there is so much of history to discover" Jane said excitedly. "Friendly people? Come on Jane, have you forgotten the taxi driver who swindled us at the airport?" Rosie asked, aghast. "Yes I remember. But every country has its fair share of people like that." "Well argue whatever you want Jane, but I will never come to love this country" Rosie said dismissively. Just then they heard someone calling out to them. "Madam, Madam!" a boy was shouting and came running to them. He had Rosie's bag in his hand. "You forgot at shop" he said in a broken English.

 Rosie immediately grabbed the bag and checked its contents and was relieved to find that everything was intact. She thanked the boy profusely and offered him some money. But he refused and went running back to his shop."You know what, this country is not so bad after all" Rosie said and smiled at her friend. "Well I am glad to hear that. I wonder what changed" Jane said and both of them laughed.

Together-(WR)

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked lifeless and her face had become pale. She had lost most of her hair and weight. She couldn't recognize the person in the mirror anymore. Just then her husband came in and held her from behind.

"I look so ugly" she said. "No you look beautiful, as always" he said and kissed her on the neck. "Don't lie Vikas. I am not blind, I can see myself. I look like a ghost" Asha said and started crying. "Asha, please don't cry. You look just fine to me.We are in this together, remember? Together we will kick the cancer's butt". Hearing it, Asha smiled and hugged him.

Serendipity-(WR)

Her face looked familiar to Ishaan. But no matter how much he raked his memory he just couldn't remember her. She was talking animatedly with her friend. She is beautiful he thought. She lifted her hand and ran it through her hair. Ishaan's eyes fell on a big mole on her elbow and suddenly all the memories came back to him like an avalanche. He remembered the plump little girl wearing glasses and a runny nose. He remembered the time they used to run around in the field, plucking raw mangoes from the tree and eating with salt. She was his first friend in that unknown town where his father had been transferred. They were inseparable back then. He still remembered vividly, his last day in that town and they both had cried so much. They had promised to keep in touch, but somehow life happened and they had moved on. Chashmish! Ishaan thought. That is what he used to call her.

Ishaan walked towards her and said "Hey chashmish, remember me?" he said. She looked at him inquisitively and suddenly a sense of realization dawned on her and her lips slowly curved into a smile. "Ishaan! Oh my God" Meghna exclaimed and hugged him. "What are you doing here in this party?" she asked in disbelief. "Well, you may call it serendipity" he said and grinned at her.

Reminisce-(WR)

"Rose, do you re remember this bridge?" Jack asked. "Of course, how can I forget? This is where we met for the first time and you had proposed to me on this same bridge" Rose said and looked at him warmly. "Yes and do you remember how I had stammered all the way through the proposal? You had laughed so hard that day". "Yes and I felt it was so cute" Rose said and pinched his cheeks. "Hey!" Jack exclaimed and pulled her closer. "Jack stop it. People are staring at us" Rose said and blushed. "Oh let them stare all they want. I am just loving my wife" Jack said and kissed her on her forehead.

"Grandpa, come on its time to go home" little Peter said and tugged at Jack's hand. Jack suddenly woke up from his reverie and looked at his grandson. "Grandpa why are you crying?". "Nothing Peter, I just remembered your grandma". "Did you talk to her again? What did she say?" Peter asked enthusiastically. "Well she pinched my cheek" Jack said with a chuckle. Peter started giggling. Jack  took his grandson's hand and got up from the bench. Rose appeared on his side and started walking along with him, holding his other hand.

Quilt-(WR)

The big box slipped from Seema'a hand and fell on the floor, immediately raising a small cloud of dust. Seema sneezed a couple of times as a result of that and cursed under her breath. Why did I choose this day to clean the attic? she thought irritably. She got down from the stool and began checking the items in the box. There were some old photo frames, candle stands,some steel utensils, some ugly vases, apparently gifted on some occasion she thought.

Suddenly her hand found something soft at the bottom of the box. She pulled it out and saw that it was an old quilt. Suddenly she was transported to the time when she was a kid. She remembered those nimble hands stitching the quilt and those deep, kind eyes which always looked at her so lovingly. "Ajji *, what are you doing?" she had asked. "I am stitching a quilt for you Ammu". "But why?". "To keep you warm in winters" her grandmother had told."This quilt will always remind you of me when I am gone". Seema's eyes brimmed with tears as she remembered her. She smelt the quilt and caressed her cheek with it. I will never forget you Ajji she said softly.

(*Ajji-Grandmother in Kannada)

Purple-(WR)

"Ma I have brought something for you." Mira said and handed the package to her mother, Savita. "What is this Mira?" Savita asked. "Oh just open it Ma" Mira said excitedly. Savita smiled and opened the package. "This is a sari" Savita said in disbelief. "Yes Ma and it is your favorite color too, purple". "Mira is this some kind of a joke? You know I cannot wear colors right?" Savita asked in despair. "And who has made a rule like that? I know that you are still grieving Pa's death but that does not mean you should forget about living your life. You like purple, so wear it. Just think of it as  part of moving on with your life. Please Ma, wear it just once" Mira implored.

 "This will create a scandal Mira. What will people say?". "What has anybody got to do anything with what you choose to do Ma? Its your life and your choice, you don't have to care about others opinions. Let them talk what they want, I am here to support you" Mira said and held her mother's hand. Savita looked at her daughter and smiled through her tears.



(In many parts of India, when a husband dies the wife is turned into a widow and during that time she is not supposed to wear colorful clothes or jewelry. Some women also shave their heads and live their life like a celibate)

Omen-(WR)

"I told you to stop for few minutes but you didn't listen to me. Now look what happened" Nisha admonished her husband. "Oh come on Nisha. Do you think a black cat crossing our path would bring misfortune on us? That is ridiculous and its not like we died. It is just a small accident." Rajat said and got out of the car. He felt a throbbing pain in his head but he ignored it thinking that it was due to the impact. He had hit his head on the steering wheel pretty hard.He bent down and checked the dent on the front of the car. Just then a small crowd of people started to gather around the car. 

"Its OK folks. Its a minor accident. we are fine." Rajat said addressing the crowd. But nobody seemed to hear him and they didn't even look at him. The people were staring at the driver's seat. Rajat was curious and he peeped at the driver's seat and felt all color draining out of his face. He saw his and Nisha's body lying there, with their faces covered in blood.

Nostalgia-(WR)

The hostel mess was already crowded. Nita jostled past the chaos, trying hard not to drop her plate and luckily found a vacant chair to sit. She settled down and looked at her food plate. It consisted of 2 dry chapathis, watery dal and a curry made of an unidentifiable vegetable. The sight of it made her stomach queasy. She longed for home made food, but knew that she will not be able to get it till the semester holidays. 

She took one bite of that chapathi and frowned. "Do you want some chutney to go with it?" asked a small voice from her left. Nita looked at her, confused. "Hi I am Pavni. My room is next to yours." she said."Oh Hi, sorry I have seen you but did not remember. I would love to have that chutney" Nita said and smiled. Pavni served her a spoonful. Nita saw that it was mango chutney, her favorite. She spread it on her chapathi and ate it hungrily. The taste of it immediately made her nostalgic. It reminded her of the summer holidays spent lazing around the house and eating chapathi with that heavenly mango chutney prepared by her mother. She looked at Pavni and knew that she at last found a friend in that strange place called a hostel and they bonded over a spoonful of Mango chutney.

Memories-(WR)

He looked at the college reunion invitation one more time. It brought back an avalanche of memories. No matter how hard he tried to dismiss his thoughts, they kept going back to her. He still remembered her vividly, her big brown eyes, the mole on the side of her upper lip, her smile, the way she played with her hair when she was thinking, everything.

He remembered the times when they were madly in love with each other. He remembered the first awkward kiss, the promises, the shared dreams.

He also remembered the accident, the screech of the tires, the shattered glass and waking up in a hospital. The doctors had said that a side of his face has been irreparably damaged and there is very little that they could do about it. He still recalled the look of horror on her face when she first saw him like that. That one look had made him lose faith in love. He had not loved anybody like that again.

He tore the invitation card and threw it in the bin and buried back the memories which had resurfaced.

Lucky-(WR)

She was sitting on their bedroom floor. The blood had soaked a part of the expensive Persian rug and it was spreading fast. She was still holding  the heavy crystal vase in her hand with his blood stain at the bottom. 

She looked at her dead husband, lying in a pool of blood. She still loved him and he had loved her too, in his own way. She looked at the various bruises inflicted by him on her body. They were the testimonials of his love.

You are very lucky to have got a husband like him her parents had said. If only they knew she thought. She grabbed her cell phone and called the police.

Key to my heart-(WR)

"Shanta, have you seen my spectacles?" Ravi shouted from the bedroom. "How do you manage to misplace your spectacles every single time?" Shanta said and came into the room. She took one look at her husband and burst out laughing. "Why are you laughing? Whats so funny in me losing my glasses?" Ravi asked. Shanta came near him, removed the spectacles which were perched on his head and handed it to him. "Oh no" Ravi said sheepishly. "Just admit it that you are getting old now" Shanta said mockingly. "Hello! 65 is the new 45. I read it in a magazine. Moreover I look a lot younger than my age."

Shanta burst out laughing again and went inside the kitchen. "Also don't forget that there were so many beautiful girls who were ready to get married to me, but I chose only you" Ravi said and followed her. "Oh really? Why did you choose me then?" she asked. Ravi came near her and held her close to him and said "Because you were the only one who held a key to my heart or as the new generation puts it, the password to my heart" . "You have always been a charmer" Shanta said and pinched his cheek. They both laughed and hugged each other.

Jasmine-(WR)

The smell of Jasmine flowers always reminded her of him. It was his ritual. Everyday in the evening at exactly 5 PM, Sukanya would wash her face, wear a different sari, tie her hair in a bun, light the evening lamps and would wait for her husband to return from work. Everyday he would stop by the flower shop and would bring home those beautiful smelling Jasmine flowers wrapped in a banana leaf. The flowers were tied together using a thread. She would carefully wear them around her bun and fix it to her hair with the aid of U pins.

Later she would hand him a cup of strong filter coffee and they would sit in the verandah. He always regaled her with various stories from his office and she would laugh at them. 

But today, the colorful saris have been replaced by plain white ones. There was nobody to make her laugh or even talk to her. There was nobody to buy her flowers. She was a widow and she should spend her entire life as a celibate. A flower vendor passed by her house and she got a glimpse of those beautiful smelling Jasmine flowers . A lone tear escaped her eye as she remembered him. 

Introvert

“Solitude matters, and for some people, it's the air they breathe” 
― Susan Cain

I am an introvert and I am proud of it. I prefer to listen than talk. I prefer staying at home and reading a book in my free time rather than going to a party. I absolutely abhor small talk. This does not mean I am shy. It is just how my personality is. I am wired this way.  I may look serious but that does not mean I am not happy or something is bothering me.  I am tired of people asking me why I don’t talk or that I should be more outgoing and look more enthusiastic, because for them the only acceptable personality type is extrovertism.

People should realize that being an introvert is not a disease which can be cured. It is just the way we are. We recharge when we spend time alone.  There are many famous personalities in the world who were introverts but there work has influenced the world a lot. So we should change our notion that a person who is outgoing or who speaks well can only succeed.

Hugs for free :) (WR)

"Mumma I am hungry!" Neha shouted and came running into the kitchen. "Neha, how many times have I told you to keep your school bag in your room and not throw it on the floor" admonished her mother. "Oh Mumma I will do it later. Now give me something to eat" Neha pleaded. "OK but before that you should give me a tight hug" her mother said. Neha immediately hugged her mother as tight as possible with her little chubby hands. "Thank you sweet heart. I will prepare something for you" her mother said and got busy in preparing sandwiches.

 "Mumma why do you always want me to hug you?" Neha questioned. "Because it makes me happy" her mother said. "Does hugging make everybody happy?". "I guess so" her mother said. Neha thought for a while and suddenly exclaimed "Oh Mumma I have got a wonderful idea. Why don't we open a shop and distribute free hugs to everybody. Like that, everybody will become happy" . Her mother looked at Neha's innocent face and laughed. She hugged her tight, wishing to preserve her childhood innocence forever.

Gratitude

Today I am deflecting from my chosen category of writing stories and thought of writing about the things that I am really grateful for in my life. So here goes:

1. I am grateful for having such loving and supportive parents.
2. I am grateful for my husband. He is my support system and a pillar of strength.
3. I am grateful for my job.
4. I am grateful for my in laws, especially my father in law for taking interest in whatever I pursue and encouraging me to never give up.
5. I am grateful for all the comforts that I have in my life, which I so often take for granted.
6. I am grateful that I have a minimalist attitude and can differentiate between my wants and needs.
7. I am grateful for my friends who have been there with me through thick and thin.
8. Finally I am grateful that God has been very kind to me and showered his blessings when I was least expecting it, there by strengthening my belief in him