Morning by Johan

Winning the Tulip fields

One more day to go! The Times Women's Drive is waiting behind the next sunrise. So many exciting things have been happening, all at once. We were asked to come up with our winning strategy. That got me wondering, what does this trip mean to me? Why am I doing t his? Do I eye the 4.5 L prize money? Wouldn't be unwelcome but all I sincerely hope is I can reach Goa without much confusion. The tulips appear monstrous, hard to tame, right now. Why such a gentle name for this navigation tool? So basically, we have to figure out the route looking at the tulips and maintain the given speed and hope to reach the Time Control posts at the exact required time! Timing each short run is going to be a task. Especially for me, who can't focus much when tasks run on parallel threads.

This is the first time my five-year-old will be away from me. Today morning he asked me, “ Can fathers cook and wash dishes? ” That is what I want to find out too. My pre- teen is being groomed to fill my shoes. Basically, that means pampering the little one. My husband is showing the symptoms of an impending stressful weekend. But my pre-teen is super excited that he will have me off his back for a couple of days. He knows basic cooking. Has served as my dosa maker, carrot grater, garlic crusher etc. I do have a brooding suspicion that he helps me out in the kitchen to get out of his studies.

Signing up for this has opened up so many doors to different creative experiences. So many ideas, so much planning. Out on the road, I hope to discover new paths, new people, new facts about myself and the world. It is an attempt to come out of all the protective layers I have kept for myself and my family. This is a much-required disruption of normalcy to get us seeing life from a different angle.

Leaving behind all discouragement, doubt and despair, zooming towards beautiful bends and rocky terrain. Winning over the road is only the first step, succeed over secret fears that could be holding me back. Any other additional wins will be the icing on the cake.

Precious People

Life changes at the fraction of a second. Sometimes for the better, other times for the worse. We never get enough warning about what is coming. So we need to pause every now and then, and listen to what our heart has to say. Warning lights may twinkle in all sorts of hues. It is important to see everything and look everywhere. Take a break to soothe the aching feet, the tired shoulders. There is nothing more important than time spent with yourself!

Slowing down and leaving a room in a mess, is absolutely perfect! Headaches should not be forgotten after a Crocin. You have to find the root cause and eliminate it. In the same note, every hurt and pain must be pondered thoroughly and not shrugged away. The avalanche of chores could bury your much-awaited sip of tea or coffee. But don't let it. You need to eat, there's no point in waiting for everyone at home to eat. Small things we do for ourselves, take us one step ahead.

I have often heard, add life to your days and not the days, to your life. Isn't both important? We need days and we need the life in them. Trudging along, drooping shoulders pulling a humungous weight isn't exactly a good picture for every day. I think it is supremely important to let go of the little trophies and grab a piece of red velvet cake and cherish it. You don't have to excel, at all times. Excellence is not measured in the awards gathering dust on your mantelpiece. Stop measuring it against the laurels your children bring home and the exotic dishes you serve. Some dishes burn to restore order in this chaos and clamour.

Statistics tell us there is an increase of cancer in India but there is also a decrease in death rate. What are Indians doing, unaware, that takes the disease on the rise? Seemingly inconsequential habits, slowly building up a system about to trip us up. Once a friend of mine was telling me how carefully waste management is done in the part of the world she lives in( a tiny corner of Europe). That is something we need to take serious note of. We just assume we are safe if we dump it far enough. How we pollute, we don't give much thought. It all comes back to the same earth and the same air. We have no escape. We reap, what we sow. An indifferent attitude is what allows unhealthy practices to flourish. Until we are afflicted, we turn a blind eye.

Looking at the statistics, again, 70% cases present in advanced stages. That lowers the survival rate significantly. Why is that happening? Are the symptoms discarded as routine aches and exhaustion? Not only women, men too ignore the warning signals our body sends us. We need to pay attention to every tiny part of our bodies. It is not an unnecessary alarm, as most women are told when we feel those intuitions. Trust your instincts. No harm is asking for help, getting checked. Early detection is the only way to beat cancer. It is a war and better locate the enemy as early as possible. 

We have to be more sensitive to our needs. Physically, emotionally, gastronomically and every other single way that is there to please ourselves. We are a precious people! You have to seek and find what gives you happiness.There is no sin in having fun, so there should be no guilt. Your fun and frolic better be on the agenda!   

We also need to disturb our daily set routines. When life falls into a recurring pattern, it gathers dust. It makes you numb to passion, excitement.You need to just shake it up a bit. You have to find your way into an unknown terrain. You will learn more about you and the world in the process, and inspire others too! All said and done, from a high horse, it still an unfair, unstable world. Be on the alert, gather information and take complete charge of your space in this universe. Seek sunshine and be the sunshine.

Spotlight on Vengeance Anthology

Designed by Neil D'Silva 

Vengeance -A Sting in Every Tale 

A WRIMO INDIA anthology

Edited by

Sonia Rao 

Disclaimer : Every Cent from this novel goes to Wrimo India to encourage all future aspiring writers. 

Designed by Sujata Patnaik 

Blurb 

A reply to a perceived injustice can take many forms one of which is vengeance. An eye for an eye can only end up making the whole world blind, is what Mahatma Gandhi once said. And it seems to be coming quite true, if latest events world-wide are an indication.

Is there any hope or are we hurtling towards extinction?

Hopefully, the stories will explore some of these questions. But that is on the macro level. It might be easy to look at things objectively, in black and white, when it is other nations involved. Or even other people. We are able to be more forgiving of transgressions when they don’t involve us personally.

But how would one react if they found themselves in the maelstrom of situations that do fall somewhere in the grey area of life? With no definite black and white answers?

How would a jilted lover react in face of infidelity? Or how would a friend avenge the murder of her best friend? Or, is it fair to be punished for a crime that you were not brave enough to prevent?

These and many more questions connected to vengeance have been grappled with in this anthology.

created by Archana Sarat 

EXCERPT OF FIRST CHAPTER

Bus number 131 whirred away, pulling its own weight unwillingly. It was one of the many buses to pass through the Relief road, a busy road in the old part of Ahmedabad. Shazia had an option, the crowed 88 or the overcrowded 131. She preferred to be 30 minutes before time to board 131. Her choice was motivated by her love for the palindromic 1-3-1. Her undying infatuation with prime numbers was inexplicable. Nineteen year old Shazia loved numbers, and to be more precise, she adored Mathematics in all its form. She also loved the rules, the principles, the working theorems, the equations which tried to make sense of the majestic menagerie of numbers. She was fascinated even by the mere shape of numbers. She did not remember when or even how her romance with Maths began. But in her earliest memories, she preferred practicing her numbers over the alphabet, she remembered that she recited tables better than her nursery rhymes. She was short and a bit stocky. Also, a couple of shades darker than was acceptable in the marriage market. However, her looks never bothered her, nor did she ever yearn for fairer skin, or thinner body. What she craved was a disheveled mass of hair, for some uncanny resemblance to Einstein, the only pop icon modern science managed to have produced. But her mother plaited her hair, dashing her hopes to ground. She also longed for a pair of spectacles with glasses so thick that it blurred her eyeballs, indicating the wearer’s brilliance. But she, despite getting checked for vision from her mother’s ophthalmologist, was denied the hallowed implement. Thrice. Shazia valued her bus ride a lot. She had to convince Papa to allow her to commute to her college on her own. She had concealed her indignation about needing her father's permission for every little trifle, even after being categorised as an adult by the Government of India. Papa consented only after he was told that Noor too would start using the bus if Shazia were to give her company.

Buy @

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ABOUT THE EDITOR SONIA RAO

The editor of the Anthology, Sonia Rao (writer-editor-awardwinningblogger) is the NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison for All-India region. The stories which are part of the anthology are written by Wrimos homed in to Asia::India region. Most of them are also published writers of short fiction and novels.She blogs @ https://soniaraowrites.wordpress.com/ 

Find out more about Wrimo India @

Wrimo India on FB:  https://www.facebook.com/NaNoWriMo.India/

Wrimo India on Twitter:  https://twitter.com/wrimosindia 

Wrimo India blog: https://wrimoindiawrites.wordpress.com/ 

NaNoWriMo:  http://nanowrimo.org/

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Behind the Scenes of "The Sting"

Banner by Neil D'Silva

Writing a story on Vengeance was a very exciting and enlightening process. I strongly believe that most people do nurse secret vengeful desires. Ambitions are often fuelled by some grudge. A desire to give it back to someone who put you down. A harsh teacher, an offensive relative, backstabbing colleagues, an irritating neighbor, the setting options for a revenge story are infinite. However, I chose a home as the background since the wife is always expected to forgive and pretend that nothing is ever wrong. Would a wife be empowered if she were to inflict some physical pain on a cheating husband? Would it liberate her in some way? That is what I have tried to explore in my story the "The Sting."

Getting featured in this glorious anthology along with such brilliant authors does make me swell up in pride. The other stories are so vivid and varied, it really establishes the theory that revenge is indeed lurking in the dark corners of every human mind.


A word on  the other stories in this anthology (I will be updating this section soon)

1. The Beautiful Ratio by Dr.Shewta Garg

A very well written story about two close friends. How deep does friendship go in your lives? Do you feel shattered when someone hurts your friend? For a mathematical genius obsessed with ratios, does statistics of the dead give closure?

2. The murder of a dying man by Archana Sarat

Well-paced thriller with a good twist. Sometimes death of one person means life to another. Do 15 minutes of justice help someone overcome the grief of losing a loved one?

3. That which does not kill you by Neil D'Silva

What drives people to suicide? Is it really an act of vengeance? This well-crafted story tries to explore the emotions that drive lovers to suicide. An amazing twist in the tale does make this an exciting read.

The Shores of Freedom

Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season, and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks, carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak!

But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn't working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari.
'I am sick of this!' she grunted loudly.

The trees lining the shore, swayed elegantly in the breeze, their fruit laden branches moving musically. They were not startled at the obviously irritated Ilaa, an unforgivable indulgence for a woman. They had seen her thus agitated, many times, before. They may have tried to soothe her with the pretty flowers and fruity treats.

The worms of unrest began wriggling within her about a year ago. Until then, she had hardly any time to reflect on her life. From childhood, she had been taught all the essential skills of a wife. She had no doubt, that the only goal in her life was to toil for the comfort of her husband, his parents and her own children. Life was flowing on, like the Godavari, one day, after the other. The waters of Godavari danced and sparkled while her days grew dimmer.

When those mysterious turbulences hit her, she ran to the banks of Godavari. A space where she could vent. Today, she was anxious about her friend Malini. She was the closest thing to a friend that Ilaa had in the village. She was brought there just about the same time as Ilaa. Initially, Ilaa had resented her, for everyone compared the two of them. Malini was more beautiful and obviously efficient in regular daughter-in-law duties.

Ilaa was made very aware of her defects, every day, by her highly discontent mother-in-law. Her husband also openly admonished her clumsiness, but she was under the delusion that he did love her, for the nights were hardly restful. The reality broke itself into her about two children later, when she realised that she was just another thing of comfort to him. Her happiness or pain mattered none to him. She had functions to perform. She needed no rest, no friends and certainly, no fun. She had no right to feel insulted or humiliated. She had no self-respect to defend, in his eyes.

Malini and Ilaa had become friends slowly, never able to confide in each other initially. During the dry season, when the wells in the village dried up, they made trips to the river, washed clothes and carried water back for the household use. They realized that they enjoyed carrying pitchers of water from the thinning river much more than working in the comfort of their houses. The path was hard, the pitchers heavy, but the they were free. They talked about everything,from heroic tales of Shivaji Maharaj to the little hurtful incidents back home.

Malini had no children. Her husband, Gopal seemed unaffected, but his parents were not. They pestered him day and night, to take another wife. Three years dragged on, Malini became the unwanted burden where once she was glorified. Meanwhile, Ilaa had two children in quick succession. Her first born was a son, who immediately gave her an elevated, advantageous position in the entire village. She had started feeling a bit pompous and self-important when the next one arrived, a daughter. That reminded her with a pinch, where women stood, in the grand scheme. Her daughter wasn't applauded. The sweets were not sent out. The dhols and music were not heard, at all.

On this particular day, Ilaa was getting ready for the cotton fields when she heard Malini's mother-in-law bemoaning the childless garden of their ancestral home. She was perplexed that Gopal refused to marry again. So she planned to send Malini away, back to her mother's home. Ilaa could not contain the fury rising inside. She marched to the courtyard where the ladies were plotting the eviction of her friend.

“How can you even think of this? What will she do in her father's home? ”, Ilaa demanded.

Malini's mother-in-law looked at Ilaa with disapproval and cut a sharp glance of discontent to Ilaa's own mother-in-law who was already alarmed at Ilaa's bold manner.

"Go back inside, Ilaa. This is nothing that concerns you," she hissed.

Ilaa stared coldly at her, clearly seeing that the consequences of this rebellion would be very unpleasant. But she could not quietly pretend that all was well with the world.

"It does concern me. I will not allow Malini to be treated unfairly. How can you blame only her, for not producing children? Don't you know that a woman cannot do that by herself? "

Malini's mother-in-law was scandalized. Her eyes grew large, almost as if she was trying to emit fire rays out of them to vaporise Ilaa on the spot.

“How dare you talk to me like this!”, she thundered.

A murderous look settled on the face of Ilaa's mother-in-law.

“Ilaa! Apologize right now!”, she demanded.

Ilaa wasn't particularly in a frame of mind, today, to be coerced into offering up even fake apologies. She looked calmly at the very disturbed women in front of her. Suddenly, she took off. She ran all the way to the shores of Godavari. She sat there throwing stones into the deep waters, as though her own troubles were being expelled thus.

"Why do others decide what we should do? When we get married, who we marry, what work we do? I am sick of this!"

The stone she flung touched the water at a surprisingly far distance. She stood up, delighted. She heard a clapping and turned around.

There stood Malini, smiling.

"Strong arm !", Malini said.

“Why are you not in the fields?”, Ilaa asked

"I heard Mohan's wife went crazy," she replied.

"The news of the rotten daughter-in-law spreads fast."

"You have added the thrill to their day. Must have gotten bored discussing me."

Ilaa said with sadness,"They are sending you back to your parents home. "

"I know. You can't get involved in this. It's my fate," Malini looked away into the deep waters.

"Don't say fate. You have to do something. You do not have anything back in your parents home. They may not even take you in," Ilaa was almost shouting.

Ilaa knew of some women in the village who had been abandoned by their husbands. Their own parents treated them with contempt. Some laboured in the cotton fields for very fewer benefits. Their abject poverty and apparent social isolation had always grieved Ilaa. She couldn't let that happen to her best friend.

"I know what you should do. You need a child. Do you like that Murali in the market? Who sells bangles? Why don't you seduce him ?", Ilaa suggested.

Malini looked appalled.”I will never betray Gopal.”

"He doesn't touch you, Malini, and he is not going to stop your mother from throwing you out. He is not worth it. Don't you see that?" Ilaa was shouting.

"He is a very nice man. He is very kind", Malini was on the verge of tears.

“Is he a man? What man doesn't touch his wife and sleeps with another man?”

Malini started sobbing.”I told you to never repeat that.”

But Ilaa could not be stopped. “If he cannot produce children with you, then you find someone who can. Look at Kunti Devi. How do you think Arjun was born when Pandu could not touch Kunti ?”

Malini stared at Ilaa in disbelief. “The Gods granted the children to Kunti Devi.”

“Then why did she have to abandon Karn? It's not a sin, Malini. You have examples to follow in the Vedas. Everyone did it.”

“I am not sleeping with any other man. I cannot do it!” Malini shook her head vigorously.

“Do you think Gopal would mind? After you saw him with your own eyes, with another man?”

"Ilaa, you know that I can't do that. I don't want to sleep with someone in secret and have a child of shame. Now stop talking about Gopal", Malini sobbed uncontrollably.

Ilaa realized then that Malini was the perfect victim of the moral laws laid down by the society they lived in. She couldn't deceive. Even when she was hurtling towards a miserable life of loneliness and poverty.

"Promise me that you will come here tonight after everyone goes to sleep," Ilaa said calmly.

“Why?”, Malini wiped her tears.

“I am not letting you sink in quicksand. Just come and we will find a way to save you. ”, Ilaa replied.

Malini nodded her head and walked away.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

After dinner, Ilaa was quietly folding clothes when Mohan started yelling.

“Who do you think you are? You think you are very beautiful? You know everything about the world? You are very clever? How dare you talk to my mother like that!”

Ilaa wasn't paying much attention to his antics. He may have thrown a box or bowl at her, but she dodged it with ease. Skills that she developed over the years. Mohan wound down after some more debasing of her and her parents.

The darkest, deepest hour of the night descended. The village was safely tucked in. Malini had dared to reach the rendezvous point. She had done it few times before when she and Ilaa had helped a poor couple in love, elope. Tonight she didn't find Ilaa, instead there waited, the startling figure of a man.

Malini wanted to turn back and run, but the man called out to her, "Malini, come with me."

She turned stone cold and tried to locate a suitable rock to throw at this thin, strangely familiar man.

"I am here to help you. Come with me to Paithan. I know you can weave beautiful clothes. We can start a small shop there. Also, I need a wife to look after my children.", he continued.

He pointed towards a bullock cart, laden with some bundles of what appeared to be clothes and some household utensils. She also spotted two little sleeping children inside.

Malini was speechless. She just could not believe that Ilaa had fixed a match for her in such a short time. She glanced back and forth, from the cart to the man, from the man to the cart.

Where was Ilaa? She scanned the area near the water, near the trees, near the bushes.

The man spoke up “Ilaa is not coming. I am taking you with me.” He took steps towards her.

Malini reached down for a rock. The man started laughing. He took off his turban and moustache and there appeared Ilaa's face!

The rock dropped from her hand while Malini's jaw almost touched her feet.

"No time to waste, we must travel as far as possible before sunrise and the masters of our fate miss our services," Ilaa said, taking Malini's hand.

“But...how??..what??” Malini stammered as she walked along with Ilaa toward the bullock cart. Ilaa's children were sleeping comfortably inside.

"I don't want to live here anymore. We are going to try and find a life where we have respect and happiness. The world requires a husband and children for a woman to be respectable, so now you have it. I can do a man's work any day. Paithan will be a good start. A lot of traders, even those foreigners. We can weave clothes and sell them. This is our only chance Malini, if we do not take it, a lifetime of tears is all we get. "

Malini found herself nodding, a nervous excitement mingled with joy rising up within.

“What if they catch us?”

"Do you think they will come as far as Paithan to look for us? You stay indoors the first few days, we will change your look and dressing so that you won't be easily recognised. They won't see through my disguise anyway. May have to cut my hair, that is going to be very sad."

“How do you think of all these?” , Malini wondered in admiration.

"The Vedas, dear, there is another Ila who lived as a man for a month and a woman for the next. My grandmother taught me the Vedas. That is why they don't let us learn anything, now. So that we stop thinking. They want to push us around like their cattle."

Malini giggled and the two scampered to the bullock cart.

“What if I refused to come, Ilaa? What would you have done?”

“Look at my two children sleeping so soundly. I have given them some herbs. I would have tricked you into having the same thing and dragged you into the cart. Sometimes you don't know what is good for you.”, Ilaa replied forcefully.

Malini pretended to be angry and struck on her arm.

That's when they saw another figure by the bullock cart. Gopal!

Malini and Ilaa stopped moving and looked at each other. Had everything had fallen to pieces, even before it began?

Then Gopal spoke up.

"I always follow you, Malini, whenever you get up at night and wander around. Only for your protection. You have protected me, even when I was causing all the problems you face. You deserve a happy life. You should go now, with Ilaa. I will make sure no one finds you there, in Paithan. Here, take these rings. Should fetch a good price."

He handed over his rings to Malini and smiled, then walked away.

“You are truly the best man I know, Gopal. A complete man in every sense.”, Ilaa called out from behind. Gopal stopped and turned towards them.

“Very few would think so, Ilaa but I am happy that you do. I will miss the both of you.”

Malini and Ilaa jumped into the cart and embarked on their adventurous quest of freedom. The shores of Godavari bid them a joyful adieu and sighed, waiting for the next woman of spirit who would pursue liberation and hoping to witness it.

Four Power

I have always believed that knowledge is power. In present times, it is information also along with knowledge. A knowledgeable person is still respected, but he has to be in synch with the ever evolving technology. Knowledge, we can obtain by reading and learning. but information, is now just waiting for your touch, inside your pocket. Lost your way or wanting to buy a spectacular gift for your sweetheart? There is help, just fish out your smartphone. The one thing that will make your smartphone, smarter, is lightning speed internet.

Today, it's unimaginable to be not connected. All the cool apps, games and tools are an absolute must on your smartphone. We have a primal need to showcase to the world what we are doing at the moment. Be it Instagram, Twitter or Facebook.  We try hard to capture what we feel, experience at a beautiful sunset or sunrise. We want everyone to marvel at the breathtaking colours of a flower we chanced upon by the roadside. We need even strangers to know our opinions about what is going on in another part of the world. The whole universe is shrinking. We can all touch each other, with our fingertips precisely.

We may not be able to see all those comedy or drama series when it's aired on Television. We can enjoy it at our convenience when we choose to do so. Movies too. So many to catch up on.
But what exactly would I do with lightning speed internet?

The first thing that comes to my mind is, I could see those food making guide videos anytime I have a doubt in the kitchen. Right on my smartphone. Without the irritating streaming pauses.
There are a whole lot of videos showing all the techniques and tips useful in the kitchen. It would be a lifesaver if I could call upon the genie in the video and refresh the steps once more when trying out something new and tricky.

Next would be the online Zumba or dance workshops. We could start once via Skype group chat.
Old friends, college mates, scattered around the globe. Once in a while we do party, in Skype, but the constant disruptions and time lag in the network dampens the jovial air. It reminds us of the oceans and continents between us. Some of us are stay-at-home Mothers and some have flexible work hours. We could agree upon a fixed time slot and do our bit of exercising or meditation or dancing. The 4G network would make us feel, we are in the same room.

Maybe I can host my own YouTube channel. A lot of ideas are popping in my head. Maybe a book club  on YouTube. We can read our reviews of books or films. We could share our poems or stories.
The network is looking more promising than ever.

For someone like me, who loves to write there are so many editing tools. I have found it very time consuming, to upload my entire document, on the online  grammar checking tool. It is very helpful, so I put up with the pain. It would be just heavenly if the tool could process my document and show my grammar abysses before yawns take control over me.

There are so much to learn also in Online courses. I was always skeptical about enrolling for those since classroom sessions require a good network. Now a tutor in the US can explain concepts while I discuss my own theories with the class. Also, Wikiversity has so much to offer.  Just when I get into the zone to do some serious reading and absorbing, the WiFi starts to taper down and flicker off-on.

Reserving travel tickets, train or airplane, is another problem I hope will vanish by the magic of 4G. Booking a Tatkal train ticket online is still a distant dream for me. When sudden long weekend plans germinate, it is the speed of your network which is going to determine the quality of your stay and travel, gift wrapped in a nice discount deal.

Having the 4G network for the entire home makes more sense.  The price of the 4G network is the same as what you pay for the 3G. The Airtel 4G Wi-Fi assures support to 32 different devices including WiFi enabled security cameras and gaming consoles. So the whole family can spend quality time with their own gadgets, once in a while. Families need to spend time talking to each other and helping each other, too. Help can come through a network, most of the time.

The internet has simplified our lives and  brought us closer to experiences that we would never otherwise be fortunate to indulge in. It arms us with the opportunity to research much and take well-balanced decisions. To make bold choices, quickly, we need information at lightning speed. We cannot let ourselves take it slowly when the world is squeezing every second to get maximum profit. Be the speed. Feel the power.

Visit the Airtel page to learn more on the process of acquiring a 4G connection. It is that extra power to push you ahead of the crowd.
http://www.airtel.in/4g/ 

Sunrise Scuffle

Like the werewolf in the moonlight,

A creature I morph into at dawn.

The first few minutes, I am still me

The bed feeling more cosy than ever,

The alarm sounding more vile than ever.

Trying to figure which day of the week it is,

Desperately plotting a quick fix breakfast.

I pray hard, Oh dear God Almighty,

Please make this a happy morning!

The Lord recoils at my voice.

Two little sleepy flowers,

Soft, gentle wake up calls

Soon turn into loud threats.

I am not that ray of sun shine.

Flowers begin to swelter, already.

The morning picture I had in mind,

Flushed down, all the way.

And once again, the beast has fangs out

Shoving food down your throat,

Silencing your funny jokes.

Pointing at the clock,

Dragging you to the bathroom,

Dragging you out.

The school bus, like a ticking bomb

Each passing second, it's getting closer.

And then you take off!

The fangs dissolve into air

And sting sharp into my soul

Couldn't we laugh at silly things, move like snails

Maybe brush teeth, skip the bath?

I push for the healthy food,

And leave your heart starving.

Such an incredibly beautiful world,

Do I distort it with maniacal pushing?

Waiting for the evening, a time to mend.

Cars

My elder son seems to be having a lot of free classes these days. So I suggested ( ok, he didn't have the option to bail) that he writes something.
This is what he came up with

________________________________________________________________

First of all let me get something straight, you have to know a lot about cars or be a car freak to understand this book. So do you know the name of the fastest car in the world. It is the BUGATI VEYRON .Keep reading to get to know how to make a faster car than the BGATI VEYRON.

Chapter 1

Toby and Ron were working in a car company called LAMBORGHINI .

They made the chassis of the LAMBORGHINI AVENTADOR

Raising Mom

Am I an authoritative figure? I have no doubts that I am not. I don't push people. But at home, I have to be. I try to be, rather. My two sons do not particularly have any interest in doing things in an orderly manner. Every ten minutes there is a war cry or a long loud wail. Unfailingly, one will take away something valuable belonging to the other. I believe that amidst the strife there is immense fun for them. They thrive on this conflict. They are laying down the bricks for the memory wall. One day, they are going to sit, arms around each other and laugh at each silly fight.

They teach me so many things. I never really referred to any parenting guide, so I do not know if I fall into the buddy parenting bracket. But this I know, our relationship is based on give and take. I take a lot more than I give. They exposed the many gaping holes in my character. I wanted to be a better person for them. I have successfully earned the good cook title, in the extended family circle. I wouldn't have cooked but for them. Them alone. They taught me time management, which my boss was getting tired of, putting on my appraisal comments.

What do I teach them? I wonder, anything of value? I help them with the text books and the writing.

I constantly push them, to learn from what they around them, to improvise. I like to imagine I taught them to channel their energies to creative ends. We have spent many happy mornings in the terrace of our home, painting on the wall. Any picture we imagined. I have seen volcanoes, dragons, cool cars and enchanted trees, appearing on that unglamorous half wall.

They have taught me all about cars. From the ones in the racing games to the one listed in Top Gear magazines. I have been lectured on the different engine types of European cars, customised for speed. We have laughed at the Greg Heffely's misfortunes. (That's the Wimpy Kid series)

Mornings are the worst. They don't want to wake up. After they are up, they go about in the slowest motion possible. That's when Chocos cheer them up. I even pack it in their snack box at times. On holidays, we bake together. My elder one believes I can't bake a good cake without him.

Of all the moments we have nurtured each other, my fondest is the time my elder one decided it was time for us to cycle together. I hadn't touched a cycle in ten thousand years, I was afraid of looking like a total idiot. Something that I didn't want particularly. Especially in front of him. We set out, I was wobbly, obviously. He rode slow but helped me with encouraging words. He laughed when I braked hard and put my feet down, to stop the cycle, but he didn't make fun of my fear. I was ready to wind up, but he prodded me on. He kept saying that the more you practice, the easier it gets.

My own words, coming right back at me. So I had to persevere. After some time, I started to relax and enjoy the two wheeled wonder.

It felt good. The cutting through cool air. The sense of adventure. I felt free, like a child, with no worries about the day's menu or mounting work. I am grateful that he likes to share his happy times and favourite activities with me. There is still a lot of growing for me to do.

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