A Step Back

I sat by the window gazing afar

A hush I sense, stillness in time

Life is galloping away

And here I was feeling void, empty  

What were those dreams of mine?

In my childhood, in my adolescence

Dreams woven so beautifully, so daringly

With no crumbs of self doubt

Out of school I stepped and then

Obese books, generators and motors

Surging like a mountain torrent

Dragged me along an unstoppable flow

Couldn't pause, couldn't breathe

Those beautiful buds I held in my hand

One by one, they were wrenched away,

Striving to capture a raise, a feather

If only there could be a crack,

A fissure in the wall of time

I could tiptoe back into the land

Of enchanted trees and magical beings.


Written for Fireblossom Friday: The crack in Everything at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Caught up in the rat race, striving an ascending career path with raises and feathers in the cap you lose some magical element you always wanted in life.

Brothers

They rolled about, legs up in the air.

Like cuddly little puppies without a care.

Sniffing each other, pawing each other

A tiny nibble hither and thither. 

Their soft laughter, full of sparkles

Up they go, running in circles

Who is chasing who? you never know

Now is their time, their hearts aglow

Brothers are friends for ever

Alone is what they will be never.

Written for Susan's  Stretching Comparisons at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

Blackberry

He ran like a little fawn leaping over the bushes. Never had this much space at home and mother was always yelling if they ran about in their two bedroom flat. It was lunch break in school. Vaulting over short walls and reaching for the tree leaves. He dashed about like a boomerang.  He was euphoric that teacher had complimented him today on his handwriting. Mother will be so jubilant. He was sure. Eating was at the back of his mind. Mother would be really upset if he brought lunch back home. She does crib that she gets up early to cook him lunch for school. He decided to wash his hands and settle down with his friends for a quick bite.  He was all smiles as he parked near the gang. “Hello Blackberry”, one voice quipped.

That one word was enough to infect his cheery heart with gloom. He looked at his hands and legs. Was I really that black? Mother always told me I am very good looking. He tried to fight the despair. He looked at their laughing faces.  He couldn't understand what they found funny. Silently he finished his lunch. Dragging himself back to classroom, he wished his mother was near to hug away the blues.

Suddenly there was a loud crack of thunder and down came the showers. He looked up to the heavens and spotted a friendly cloud. He raced with the others to the open grounds for their rain dance. Merrily they swayed. Only the colors of childhood in sight.   


Written for Trifecta Challenge  Week Sixty Nine     

Challenge -> use the word "Infect "

3a : contaminate, corrupt   
  b : to work upon or seize upon so as to induce sympathy, belief, or support                                                                                                                                                                                   

Mogambo

A young executive was nervously biting her nails. It was the detailed design meeting. She had to present the exact design of the new service requested by the client. The team lead was a micro managing maniac. His quiver was full of queries coated with instant poison. It always jammed up the nerves relaying data to her brain. She would start mumbling jargon she hardly could mouth. This was going to sink faster than Titanic and he was sure to needle in that he had warned her of all the icebergs. This was a tricky service. They had to keep all other services undisturbed and connect this new service with those. He had been asking for updates on the design daily. Bloody Mogambo. They had a name for him since he had a habit of saying “That makes me happy” when stuff got done. Mogambo was the king of evil villains and “Mogambo Khush Hua ” was his eternal tagline.

She had always given him some thing to chew on. Now there was to be detailed explanation of functions, sub services, sub modules. It was not that she didn’t work on it. She had done a good amount of hard work but she couldn’t tear herself away from a new attraction. Aman. He was the stuff Yash Raj was made of. His dimpled smile. The way he coaxed her to the canteen. The way he complimented. Even in the gloom of the huge impending doom Aman was like a fragrant breeze soothing her nerves.

She closed her eyes and tried to recall all those ice creams…all those pizzas and burgers. He had so much time. She had wished that they both were in the same project.  Maybe they could have finished this horrid detailed design in some cozy café.  All those days were magical. Aman had told her in the morning chat over messenger that he had some thing important to tell her. That would make up for the shootout about to begin. She tried to pacify herself. This was just a job. Aman was a lifetime. She had used her time wisely. He was perfect in all ways. She just couldn’t bring it up to feel guilty about not using her time for her work. Not a problem if her appraisal was screwed over this. I can face any crap life would throw now that Aman was there, she comforted herself.

She looked at the time again and gathered up her prints. Mechanically she walked up to the conference room. How could I blow this, a question darted in the back of her mind. She passed her team lead’s cube and saw a big poster in bold letters “WORK IS WORSHIP”. That guy really lived it. Not such a bad thing. She felt her stomach cramping.

Slowly others piled into the conference room. She sat by the whiteboard. Depression flooding slowly.  Aman couldn’t keep her dry anymore. How could he pull me away from work? He knew I had this big task, yet he wanted all those long discussions. How could he not care about me doing well at work? A seedling of resentment raised its head.

Enter Mogambo. “Are we all here?” he asked. “Yes, the whole team is right here. Shall I start then?” she gulped even as she tried to keep a brave front.

“Yes we shall start but I am expecting another team to join us. There is a major change. I am sure you worked too hard on the design but it appears you may have to tweak it some. There were some suggestions about merging another service with this one and yesterday night the client has given the nod to it. So we have to rethink the design with the other service functions. They already have some components which we can reuse”, he ended. Never did his words elate me so. Dare I ask that this meant I was off the hook for today? “That means we have to redesign from scratch then ?” I asked trying to mask the joyful jingle rising inside me.” I am afraid so” he replied. “Don’t worry. We can try to reuse some components of your design. But we have to reason it out with the other team.” he replied.

Really? God alone knows what is there to reuse…reuse..ha ha when will this guy stop ? I was no longer humble and bowed down. In walked the other team and I spotted Aman with his dimples. I could have broken into a jig.

 The teams got introduced and then Aman’s team lead took over “This is definitely a  most interesting project. But I have some important assignment I was already committed to take up in Munich. So I will sadly not be around here to push you all. Aman will how ever see to it that everything sails smoothly. He is taking over the lead role while I am away. “

Mixed emotions flooded in. Aman was applauded and pushed to the center stage. “Thank  you Ravi for your confidence in me. I will not let you down. I believe that both our teams could work great together. We may have to push ourselves a bit more.   We need to give every second of our time to our work. Entertaining ourselves in office hours will not be tolerated. We cannot take our work lightly. We have to gear up and out perform everyone else if we expect to be rewarded.” he concluded.

Did he throw a glare in my direction, she shuddered.  Her wish was granted.They were going to work on the same team, more or less.  But he had turned into Mogambo.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Slipping away

  

There was beautiful sunshine and fragrant air,

A cool breeze teasing my unruly hair.

In I slowly put my hand ,

Picked up a fistful of golden sand.

Merry times on a beach, splashing in the waves !

Blend of fun and love any girl craves.

Not a care anywhere in sight,

My life never seemed so bright.

Slipping through my fingers, cannot hold forever..

Hurtful words I should not remember,

Cling onto the tender love and laughter.

The sun will rise again the night after.

I grope again in the space,

I know I have myself to brace.

Broken pieces of a dream..

Surges my agony in a silent scream.

Written for The Last Mixed Bag 

Little Chef

I waited and waited while all the beautiful long haired princesses got picked up by cute dimpled girls in frilly frocks. I knew I wasn’t a princess. I was just an ordinary girl with a plain dress. My hair wasn’t long or blonde. My dress was simple red and white checks with a red belt with no fancy silver buckle. My shoes were black and kind of ugly. I used to gaze longingly at those beautiful homes Barbie lived in. Bursting with colors and blooms. She had an endless wardrobe and accessories. I had nothing. I stood in a plastic case. Slowly gathering dust. Sometimes when the toys became too dusty, dirty or old they were  thrown into a box and never seen again. I wondered if that would be my future. I dreamed of a sparkling little girl who would see me within the dusty old plastic case.  She would make me her best buddy. She would probably not want to brush my hair because it wasn’t that long but we were going to do a lot of great adventures together. I was so sure of that.

And then that day came. It was a lovely family. The perfect mother, father and children. But they were boys. The elder one had kind eyes. He looked at me and slowly picked me up. "It has been here a long time, very dusty", his mother said. He wiped a part of my case clean with his fingers and looked carefully into my eyes. "Such a clever doll. She is a chef" he said. I was blushing. No one had ever found that out about me. I was a cook. A chef he said. I was so happy. He really saw me. But would he want a doll? He was just going to race for the trains or trucks or planes. I didn’t want to get my hopes up but then he never put me down. "Let us take her mom, please", he said. "What are going to do with a doll? “His mother was very surprised. "We can gift her Ann. It’s her birthday next week. She has invited us for the party, rem?” he replied."Oh yeah, your cousin Ann. But I guess she would be expecting a beautiful princess doll...not this one...” his mother was reluctant."She has so many of those....she would need a chef as well some time...please mamma, let us gift this doll to Anne", he was so persuasive. And that’s how I got all cleaned up and wrapped in a beautiful gift box with a pretty ribbon.

I was a little sad that the boy who saw me as who I really was didn’t want me for himself. Anyway I am going to have a home, a friend and so many adventures. I tried to comfort myself. So now I waited in the darkness of the gift box for Anne to find me. Days crept by, but I could imagine what went on the outside of the gift box since my little prince would come and talk to me everyday.

"Hello Cheffie...Guess what happened in school today..Are you sleeping ?...", he would go on...describing how his friends were teasing him or fighting...or about some exploration they did in the lunch break. I would try to imagine all that....I could still remember his face.

Anne's birthday arrived and it was a grand party. I felt nervous hearing all the commotion. So many children...so many giggling girls. Was Anne

going to like me ? Would she want to play with me ? Would she talk to me ? There were so many songs..I guessed they were playing some games...they all seemed happy and nice. I was going to be fine, what was I worrying about. I felt a bit sleepy...the noises seemed to be coming down...there were byes being said, so I tried to stay awake...Anne will open my box any minute now. After a billion good nights I heard the distinct sound of a little girl skipping towards me. "I am going to open all my presents now... "No Anne..You have to go to school tomorrow..It’s very late..why don’t you go to sleep now ...let us do it tomorrow after school.." , a very strong authoritative voice played out.

There was a loud shrill wail. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO...I want to see them all now........sob sob....its my birthday....you have to listen to me....sob son sob"

"Stop crying Anne...you cannot blackmail us on your birthday...."

The wailing increased in frequency.

"Ok, you can open five presents..the rest tomorrow after school..."

There were footsteps..fast ones...my heart started pounding..this is it.....I could hear her ripping off wrapping paper...not my box..I was still inside..and not moving...one after the other...finally I felt movement...I was going up...the box was open in a flash. And Anne, a most beautiful rosy cheeked little girl with bangs and beautiful long hair looked at me..I couldn't breathe. I was so overjoyed. She was more beautiful than any princess doll.

She smiled at me and picked me up..."What’s this Ken has gifted? He should have got me a book..he has no taste in dolls" ..she examined me closely and kept me on the shelf. She then disappeared. So his name is Ken. I smiled remembering the kind little boy. I recalled that Barbie had a vain boyfriend called Ken. But the Ken who gifted me to Anne was hardly vain. I wondered if Anne liked me.

I was to find that out the next day afternoon. After opening all her birthday presents princess Anne ordered her staff to clean up her room and arrange all the new toys according to their new jobs. I eagerly awaited my new station. I was not in the back rows. I was placed near a Barbie palace. I looked around and saw the beautiful Barbie dolls in amazing gowns and bejeweled denims. I started to feel like scum. Anne came near me and looked me over carefully. "You need a makeover. Let me see your hair". She loosened my hair. I didn’t have much long hair and that was pretty disappointing for her. She frowned. "You have terrible curls...let me brush them" . I was happy. Anne was going to turn me into Barbie. Brushing was painful at first. I had never brushed my hair before so I assumed my hair was a mess. But Anne got impatient after sometime.  I sensed that she was using more force to move the brush and it started hurting more and more. "Why doesn’t it stay? What’s wrong with your hair?...maybe u need conditioning..."

I found myself soaked in cold water while Anne shampooed and put some smelly stuff into my hair. She decided to blow dry my hair then. The heat was so awful. I wanted to scream while my cheeks burned. After that Anne was a bit tired but not happy at all with my hair. She put me on the shelf. She went out to have refreshments I think. This was no fun, I shuddered. Barbie looked at me and said “I hope you are all right”. “Not very”, I replied.  Why was being beautiful so easy for her and such a torture for me? She was so graceful. I just stared at her. I could never become her.

Anne returned all refreshed with new ideas for my reformation. She cut away my dress. I felt so ashamed. She then wrapped me in an itchy lacey clothe and tried to sew it in some weird dress like silhouette. The needle poked me innumerable times. I don’t remember when her sewing ended. After sewing she decided to have tea with her army of Barbie dolls. I hoped she would include me in the tea party. I was a chef after all. But she never thought me worthy.

This went on day after day. She painted my nails one day and scraped it off with some sharp blade like thing the next day. She tattooed on my hands and legs and later tried to scrape it off too. I felt that I was dying….losing bits and pieces of myself day by day. I started to feel scared every day as the noon sun shone brighter. What ghastly game plan would Anne have today?

She cut my hair in all weird styles. She colored some part of it. She even started painting on me. The most painful were the sewing days when she decided to play dress designer. I had never imagined that this would be my life with Anne. It had never crossed my mind ever that I would be treated this way, like something with no feeling…no self respect. Anne never even looked at me. All she wanted was to use me. She was not playing with me. Playing should be fun for me too. I wished to see Ken again. Maybe he would see my agony and rescue me. Would he understand unspoken words? Would he read my plea for help? Would he want to be even seen with a doll? And now I dared to call myself nothing less than hideous. Ken hardly ever came to see Anne but one day I heard Anne discussing Ken’s birthday party with Barbie over tea. That was my chance. To flee from a life of zero respect. To be treated like a chef who I rightly was. I decided to hide in Anne’s bag and run away to Ken’s on the birthday day.

Climbing into her bag was easy. I lay low, praying she would never find me. At the party I sneaked out and hid under the chair.  I was slowly making my way into a room when someone picked me up. A pair of kind eyes. Ken!!! He looked at me “Who do you belong to?” he asked. He could not recognize me I realized. Anne had really tried out all her makeover strategies on me and now I was probably some alien life form from Neptune. Ken looked at me again…”Do you belong to Anne? ” I wanted to scream “No”...don’t hand me back to her …keep me over here… Just then Anne appeared and my heart sank. “Ken…come along …time for games….you silly birthday boy”. Ken frowned …”You are not getting your doll back Anne” he muttered and hid me behind the curtains.  I waited there…..hoping that no cruel ice princess find me. Ken may have forgotten me….he may still not come back and get me from behind the curtains but I was going to have my adventure. Hideous as I may be now…I was going to go on and have all my adventures. I smiled in my new found courage and promised myself that I would never suffer again.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda - 

Wind of change

There are so many things around us which need to be corrected or changed as per the dynamics of the times. Everyone is so busy trying to chase a concept of success No one can afford to pause and think about the small hurdles they face. They make a way around it and leave it to someone else to remove. These days we hear about law changes and policy changes. News channels are exploding with debates and exposes. To battle corruption, to battle increasing crimes, people do need stronger criminal laws. But the mango people still need to grow a spine to stand up against any wrongful act and also a compassion for someone in trouble.

One evening I was taking my son to the neighborhood library. Suddenly there was a loud sound and I turned back in alarm to see an old man on a cycle with some load fallen on the road. There was not much traffic and it looked like he had bumped on some object or maybe a pothole. He was still down and his bags scattered around. People were walking up and down. Some stopped and stared. One lady on a scooter stopped and came up to him and helped him up. That kind of jolted me into action as well. I and my little boy picked up his things.  He was not hurt, just in shock. After five minutes all of us were back on our separate ways. To help a stranger is not easy for us. We hesitate. That hesitation is exactly what needs to be changed. Be aware of our surroundings.  We are part of a society. We build this country person by person. Our single action or non action has an impact. Each one of us needs to educate ourselves more on every sphere touching our lives. Instead of hiding in our safety cocoons we need to think and act about our tiny bit of nation building.           

It feels now that a strong wind of change is blowing. A pack of young leaders trying to find their footing in the murky Indian political landscape. We can only hope that the changes we hope for come about at least in our lifetime.            .

Some of the problems that gnaw at my mind are listed below with my analysis and fix ideas.

1.    Improper Disciplining of children

Children are indeed our future. Any social changes we dream of can only materialize if the building blocks of the society are strong. Children need to feel protected and encouraged. Parents need help at times to think about their children in a different light. They are in such a chaos to earn a living and push children upward that they may unknowingly cause harm. Each child is a challenge and what the parent knows may not be enough. Every child needs to be taught the right from the wrong.  Every adult the child encounters leaves a mark on him. Disciplining does not involve only punishment. A child must understand what was wrong. Though we love our children, often we lose our cool. Especially when we feel embarrassed of their actions or terribly inconvenienced. We tend to lash out strong words or even a beating. It only signals at our helplessness and lack of control.

A child should be respected just as an adult is. A child has the right to be naughty. He is curious and that is a very healthy attitude for learning. A child has the right to be wrong. He doesn’t know any better. We fill up the gaps in his probing mind.

Not every parent would have the temperament or the knowledge to handle children in a positive manner. Some parents are not even ready or mature themselves.

Fix  

There should be compulsory parenting workshops. Parents should be given a picture of what children will do and how they must respond. Parents must be evaluated on how they are nurturing the child by regular health checks. Children should be questioned on how the parents handle punishment. There can be workshops in which the family learns to cope with adversity as a team instead of dishing out blame to each other.

Such monitoring activities should not erode the privacy of families but try to guide them. Also this will increase the communication between parents and children, so that they can understand each others struggles.

2.    Overloading the children to perform

In the highly competitive world we live in today there is a very sad place for mediocrity. Even in their families an average achiever would not be acceptable. Excellence is definitely a worthy goal but not at the cost of joy and self confidence. A child is precious but very unique. Each person has a different strength. We cannot push them to excel and perform in an area that is not his forte. Hard work must be inculcated and appreciated but ridicule for not achieving should never be done.

Fix

Schools should find out the aptitude of each child and provide platform for that child to excel in his area. He should be encouraged and guided.  

Parents should also be made aware of the potential in their child. Sports should be given more importance and training should start an early age. So many talented children would do so much better in sports when they are being pushed and prodded into books. Books and learning must not be discarded but they should be given opportunities to excel in their chosen field.

3.    Poison laced vegetables and fruits

Every time I buy a vegetable or fruit I pray that it would be healthy for us to consume. I put it in salt water, I wash it innumerable times, still a fear lingers. If I spot a worm or a worm hole, I am actually happy. That a worm could live on it means that it is not doused in pesticides.

Fix  

There should be effective inspections of markets. I would be supremely happy to see an inspector in every main market. Random sample checks must be done daily in all main markets. The inspectors must buy only from the markets they are assigned to verify.

Inspection of farms is also a must. The farmers should not be allowed to have separate crops for their consumption and for their business. The soil and the plants must be checked. The underground water in the farming areas must also be checked. More awareness drives on home checks for chemicals in any packed food or vegetables must be done. In this information age we get a lot of forwards regarding procedures while cooking etc but the food agencies must give regular bulletin in news channels and kid’s channels regarding packed food as well as vegetables and fruits.

4.    Domestic Violence – Emotional and Physical

In a marriage the man always assume the position of power. The wife and her family are considered below in stature. Most arranged marriages are done when the parents from either side decide that it is time. Are the people entering into marriage ready for such a partnership? The parents continue to have their say in the marriage. The shadow always lurks. In an unhappy home bitterness and anger breed frustration and then slowly violence – verbal assault or even physical violence.  

Fix 

Every person planning to get into a marriage must undergo some counseling sessions to break the “husband demi God” myth. The evils of dowry must be emphasized.  The girls must be made aware of their rights and help lines. They should be forced to think what they expect out of a marriage and if possible discussions should be done in which they can form a picture of the family they want to be build.  A marriage training and readiness evaluation must be mandatory for registering a marriage.

5.    Hassle of complaining in police station

A police station is no pleasant experience. A person who is already in shock from a theft, an accident or rape or any such crime need a less intimidating place to file a complaint. Also to follow up on the progress of the case, a police man is not ideal.

Fix  

A police complaint filing center that is not attached to the police station. Like an interface with the people for the police .The people can come to the center to check up on the developments of their case and give any feedback on the police actions. The police should respond within set timelines and deadlines. There should be properly trained personnel for filing the complaints with all the require data.

This post is a part of Weekend contest at BlogAdda.com in association with Chanakya's New Manifesto

Snow White

It was hot and sunny."Drink your milk", my mother nagged me .At this point every single thing around me was irritating me. It was anxiety raising its destructive head. "I feel full already. I had the idlis, now I am done." I yelled back. I ran to rinse my mouth and tidy up my face and hair."Where is daddy? I need to get there on time". I yelled again. My father didn't value reaching anywhere on time. He was always taking it slow and easy .Chatting casually with anyone he met on the road. He would definitely make me late on my important day. "Daddy, daddy the place is on the other end of town, we have to start now. I cannot be late". This was important to me. I had to nail this one. The aptitude test for Infy. Getting everything right was the only thing on my mind. This was an off campus selection and it was a rare opportunity. I was trying to recall the entire problem solving from Summers and Shakuntala Devi. My father appeared. "You have to come back on your own, I cannot wait until it’s over", he told me. That was okay, I could manage back but I never went to that part of the town."It’s too far for taking an auto rickshaw back, I still cribbed. "So then take a bus", he replied. Some fury started bubbling inside. That was an unnecessary inconvenience. Taking a bus. What if I got through the test, I would have to hurry back and prepare for the interviews next day. Waiting for a bus is just going to waste all my time. Not to mention I would get really tired and sleepy. But I decided to let that go and focus on getting the perpetual un-punctual father of mine out through the door.

As usual he wanted to dust the car a bit. I sat inside slowly seeping with fury. They do very well understand I get all crabby under tension, why can't they help me calm down instead of agitate me further, I wondered. I never really understood my parents. At this stage in my life I particularly wanted to run away from them. I was eager to get a job and move out. I had not landed any campus selections. I wanted to explore life, more importantly the world on my own. With my extra conservative and righteous parents it was not possible.

As we travelled from signal to signal I started wondering what so many people were doing early in the morning on the roads on a Sunday. I dared not express loudly thereby giving my father a chance to lecture me on patience. We finally reached the place, an old college with a sprawling campus. So many trees lined the paths within. The old Victorian architecture was very intimidating.

I flew out of the car the second he stopped. "I can find everything on my own. Bye daddy", I waved goodbye. "Wait up, All the best dear...don’t be nervous...take time to solve the questions carefully", he managed a smile even when he was disappointed to be not accompanying me further. I ran all the way, found my exam hall and ran some more. I prayed hard, dear God, let me get through please.

As I sat in my place I looked around. All smart boys and pretty girls. I never thought of myself as pretty. There was a very fair girl sitting a few seats ahead of me. She was dressed well and looked very confident. I am sure life is a piece of cake for her, I mused. Truly a Snow White. People would be falling all over her to help her. If she clears the written today she will sail through the interview in a breeze. That is if it’s a guy who interviews her. He may even put her on his team. My warped mind started envisioning. Then the test began and I had to pull all my brain into solving it.

The test was easy. After the test it was announced that we would have to wait for sometime to know if we cleared it or not.  I decided that I would head for the canteen since my stomach had started to grumble and rumble. I did not look at any one around me. I knew I had a book with me and I was planning on losing myself in it.

When I sat down in the canteen with my samosas and coffee, I noticed that Snow White from my exam hall was walking in. She met my eyes and smiled. I had no other option but to smile. How come she is alone? I wondered. All the guys were eyeing her earlier. She took her tea and walked towards me. Oh no, I groaned within. I couldn't leave my samosas behind and run , could I ? She smiled again and dropped herself on the chair opposite me on my table.”Hello, you mind if I join you?” she asked.”Not at all, please...” I motioned with my hand. “I am Koshni, I was in your same exam hall”, she revealed. “Oh, is that so? I am Rachel”, I found it uncomfortable to disclose that I had noticed her. Petty jealousy. I have so many vices.

We went on to discuss some questions and I tried to glance into my book signaling of my total disinterest in her company. She never took the hint. After we were done in the canteen there was still a lot of time left, so we decided to stroll around. “I am guessing that you are from South”, she told me suddenly. “Yes I am and you look like you are from the North”, I laughed. I replied “Yes, All the way up North, I am from Kashmir”, she revealed. I was a bit excited. Never met a Kashmiri before. Kashmir was indeed alluring. All the beauty and the strife. “Can we sit in the shades of some tree, please...I think I am starting to get rashes from the hot sun”, she said. She showed me her arms which were indeed getting very red. “We Kashmiris are not used to really hot climate.Very sensitive skin to sun.” She told me as we sat down. “So then why are you here? ” I blurted out and tried not to sound too rude. She smiled again. “I am a Kashmiri Pundit. We sort of ran away from Kashmir overnight for saving our lives. If I could I would go back and live there among apple trees and snowy mountains”, her smile was starting to fade. What an insensitive idiot I am.”I am so sorry, I didn't mean it like that”, I apologized. “I know. You really don’t know and so it’s ok. Our whole family left our homes and land and travelled down to Jammu fearing our lives. I hear that they have burnt down our homes by now. From Jammu I was offered a place in a school in Pune since the Govt had given some reservation in schools for Kashmiri refugees. I stayed here in a hostel.” She told me with sadness. From a princess to a refugee overnight, I concluded. “Your family stayed back in Jammu?” I asked. “Yes”, she replied “My father found some small work. His brother’s family also shared our one bedroom flat in Jammu. My uncle owned a medicine store in Kashmir. He used to take home cash in bundles and baskets. He didn’t even have money to by milk for his children. Some of the loyal workers back in our orchards still send us some cash, God bless them”

I never had such a first hand knowledge of what the displaced Kashmiris faced. This was really shocking and I didn’t know how to handle the situation. She seemed to be in the mood to talk. Maybe she felt she could bare her helplessness to a stranger who she never was going to see again. No one is ever comfortable sharing weak moments even when it’s not their fault.

She continued “I am the eldest. I have a younger brother and sister. They are still in school. Next year my brother will go to college. I am planning to bring him here. When I was in college I had taken up some odd jobs to support myself. After college I joined a call center as I needed the cash. Couldn’t keep burdening my family. I feel so bad that I couldn’t land a campus placement.”

I sensed that she was starting to unravel. Her eyes were getting moist. I thought I would change the subject. ”Look at that beautiful flower” I pointed to the Gulmohar tree. She looked and nodded.”Do you know that so many movies were shot in our orchards back in Kashmir? It is a lovely place. There is no place like that anywhere else in the whole world. I was still a child when we left but I remember. I remember every blade of glass. I remember every snow flake. All I want to do is go back to my home and orchards.”

“How is your rash now?” I asked her. She looked at her arm and stroked it gently.”It’s ok now. So many of us fell sick in Jammu and Delhi because we couldn’t adjust to the climate.”

I felt a pull towards her. I put an arm over her and said “I think you are very brave and very hard working. You will surely make your family proud and I am so glad to have met you.” I was a bit shocked hearing these words from my own mouth.

She managed to smile and then we walked back to the main entrance where the results were being called out. I had cleared and she hadn’t. We walked together again to the bus stop and she gave me tips about my interview the next day. She seemed to be genuinely happy for me. How could she not be so bitter after all she went through? I have such a disdain towards everyone and I even don’t know why. I had such a wrong picture about her easy life. And now she is cheering me on where she had lost. I truly admired her. I knew I could never be so giving and beautiful. She was so lovely to look at and even lovelier to be with. She had no hatred, no pull you down mind games. I felt ashamed of taking everything for granted. My parents and every comfort they provided wasn’t a small blessing. No small blessing at all. Can’t say that I suddenly turned into an ideal daughter but I was much more thankful and respectful.

I never met Koshni again but I can never forget her. When small plans go awry and irritate me I think of her and wish her well in all endeavors. She was proof to me that no matter how unfair life treats you its still worth a smile. Life is not just a win but beauty, a gentle glow of friendship and a joyful helping hand. Snow White, I pray that you find your way back home. One day the reign of the evil Queen will end and you will live happily ever after.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

A Loud Customer

I don’t like loud people, neither those who talk about themselves a lot. Its not that I like people who talk a lot but I start disliking them if they talk about their own stuff all the time. I know a person who does that and I can’t do much to escape her. I almost admire her for her many other qualities but when she starts off I feel suffocated. "I did this because of this reason,  my baby did that oh he is cute , co clever…". And she is least bit interested in what ever I may have wanted to add, explain or share. Maybe she has already made up her mind about me and she feels she knows everything about me and all that I do and think. I myself have no clue of that yet. I don’t plan much in advance and neither do set targets. Much of a free fall my days are. Sailing only on my whims and fancies. And of course the wishes of the little ones who pull and push me.

Now coming back to the loud people. I find them bossy, bullying. Why do they talk so loudly? And assuming a position of power of sorts..ordering about. The other evening I was buying grocery at my neighborhood kirana guy. Suddenly in waltzes the loud customer. She had a royal air in her nose..all pointed up to the sky. Give me this..give me that. All of us, the regulars were suddenly fading into the background. The shop hands ran helter skelter to gather her demands. I felt awkward. Why was I made to wait when I came in earlier on. But I just couldn't muster up the guts to tell.

I had taken bread after careful scouting for its elusive expiry date and all. I remembered laying it on the table top, along with my other items. Suddenly I see bread with the queen’s baggage. I plucked it out and kept it along with mine. After a few seconds her eyes started to flash and she yelled—where’s my bread..where did it go and suddenly I spied two bread packets on my heap !!! I smiled at her and sheepishly presented a peace offering …My mistake I thought you took my packet when I had put mine over there…heee heee.

She did not make a fuss over the accusation or my robbery but ordered the shop hands further to speed her billing. Anyways getting her quickly out of there was a very good idea. She made all of us nervous.

Why do people order about loudly? Does that make them feel more powerful? Does that get them things done faster? Maybe. But they wouldn't get good friends. They wouldn't be welcome anywhere. And of course they would get written about or bitched about for sure. 

What do we do about them? Let them have their way to avoid a showdown..or get them out quickly because they give us the jitters ? Do we stand up tall and tell them to pipe down ? I wish the world worked that way...but sadly wherever it maybe the bullies seem to have it easy. A small veggie shop or an IT giant like Infy.The person who can intimidate others successfully gets the trophy

One Stormy Evening

A two year olds tantrum is what tests you. Do you give in?  Do you break down? Do you get angry? Do you hold your ground and weather it out? Everything you read in all the child experts columns do not necessarily flash in front of your eyes…to try option a or option b .The loud crying..the pushing..tugging at your hands. The huge tears welling up in red puffy eyes …do they melt your heart or drive you mad. You would think the little toddler would tire after crying in vain for so long..no he doesn’t…he doesn’t relent. He will push you until you concede. You have a million things to do..cook dinner…get your elder one ready for important test tomorrow..Straighten some parts of the house before the leader of the pack gets home and starts cribbing about the mess. And yet…the storm doesn’t subside. Your throat starts to hurt as you are yelling…you don’t even realize when you start yelling….at what moment did you loose cool. You have to yell if anyone should hear your voice..thats the decibel level of the little lungs. There is nothing left in the house to distract him. Your shoulder muscles are wearing out. The prayer in your heart becomes loud on your lips. O lord make this stop..make this crying stop….help me to do something. But apparently the good Lord wants you to go through this. This is your test as a parent. You need to be firm and do not give in to the unreasonable demand. But you cannot do it in a way that your child would feel less loved and bewildered or hurt. It’s a storm you have to help your child face. Its his storm and you are the navigator. Everyday is so full of chores and challenges but you alone are the guide who will show them what’s important …doing things on time or doing things with love. Messy for sure…late dinner for sure..revising spellings in the loo.. but I am here for you and I am going to let nothing hurt you. Not my frustration nor even you yourself. That may be a little difficult..to protect you from yourself but I will keep my eyes open.