Day Dreams

Uma slouched on the couch staring at the pile of clothes in front of her. It was one more moment in a string of inconspicuous moments that she lived each day. An erstwhile banker, her life was now filled with household chores which she carried on dutifully, devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Many mornings wasted looking at the TV screen as the middle-aged British newsreader spoke in a monotone about events in the neighborhood...someone who disposed. their junk mail in the public waste bin was not caught on camera and fined. Such inconsequential news gave her an appropriate canvas every morning to paint her picture of imagined reality. And so she did !

She thought about Arvind's growing weight, his increasing carelessness with his diet, of his returning home one day complaining of chest pain, of not knowing how to drive him to get medical help on time, of the undependable national health system, of the perils of living in a foreign land, of having to call his brother in the US to convey the news that he is no more, of his parents and family visiting on hearing the news and complaining as usual of how she was not vigilant of his health and diet, of why she was adamant about not learning how to drive, of the way she kept the house !


She got up and started to fold the clothes...

Uljhe Rishtey - Meethi Yaadein

Rishtey anitya
Yaadein ziddi

Rishte Jeevit
Yaadein beeti

Rishtey kade
Yaadein behti

Rishtey uljhe
Yaadien meethi

Jab logon mein paltein hain rishtey
Rishton mein palteen hai yaadien
Phir dono mein kyon itna antar?

Crack

Why don’t you take beautiful pictures of me…Ria lamented? Others take such flattering pics of their wives.  

How do you know that, Ria?

Coz I have seen those all over Facebook ! You only take pictures of stones and concrete, Arjun.  

But that’s what we’re here for…to take pictures of our house under construction. It is just documentation baby!

Ria was adamant…but documentation can also be arty

Arjun tried to console her. Ok look here, I’ve taken this picture of you. It looks so natural.

That pictured angered Ria even more. You mean to say I naturally look nerdy!

That’s not what I said… anyway never mind.  And Arjun turned his attention to taking more pictures of the workers laying bricks on the walls of what would be their first home. Sunlight rushed in through the gaping hole in the half-done porch.

No one noticed but cracks had already begun to appear...

The Birthday Ritual

A couple of days back my nephew celebrated his third birthday. Talking to him and hearing about his birthday party made me nostalgic about how birthdays were celebrated in our family when we were kids. There was a string of rituals that my mother had created around our birthdays that made those days so special.

My mother, who otherwise worked, would stay back at home that day. That itself made the day special. I could come home from school and ring the door bell and someone would open the door, instead of the everyday practice of turning the key and letting myself in. Mom would keep it a surprise. Never mention once that she is not going to work that day. Yet we (my brother and I) half knew and were half surprised by that. That is the beauty of 'rituals' - their recurring occurrence creates a quaint mix - the comfort of the known & the excitement of the unknown. 

The house we stayed in was in one corner of the building and therefore the area outside the main door to the house used to be pitch-dark. At that time, the lights in the building staircases would be turned on only after sun down. I would stand outside a few feet away from the main door....and stretch my arm out to reach the door bell. I couldn't see anything near my feel but I knew it would be there...the rangoli that mom would create at the door. When the door opened and lit up that part of the hallway I would see a semi-circular pattern of tiny white dots that combined to form the words 'happy birthday'. Careful not to spoil it, I take one giant step in. New curtains in the living room, a house that looked spick and span, fresh bed-sheets tightly tucked under the bed, the aroma of warm fresh food from the kitchen and a smiling mom to greet me - all these small rituals made me feel like I had stepped into a completely 'new' space and created an experience that was out of the ordinary.

Our family believed in giving each other birthday greeting card and gifts. As kids since we did not always have money in hand. Hiding away from my parents a night before their birthday or anniversary and making glittering hand-made cards was another birthday ritual . Two older cousins would, fight the rain and every year bring home a special hand-made cake for my brother on his birthday. They would reach home soaking wet but would protect the cake to bring it home unspoilt. What made the cake so special was of course their gesture but it was also their skill at making the most delightfully exquisite birthday cake any child would want - a chocolate house complete with a backyard full of flowers and swings to play with or a chocolate teddy laden with gems :) Another family friend who worked with my mom was kind enough to always send two gifts - one for me and my brother - no matter whose birthday it was.

As I recalled these rituals, these were so meaningful for me as a child and they still are. We have never been a ritualistic family and therefore I would always shy away from rituals as we know in the traditional sense. I would feel a little foolish if asked to partake in any festive ritual - I thought rituals have an inherent prescribed meaning that I ought to know. Not knowing it would make me look stupid and therefore I stayed away. I am not sure whether the prescribed meaning theory is true or not. Though I realize today after all these years that rituals also have an external meaning that we associate with them and ascribe to them. So, without worrying about what is right or wrong, whether it is mine or borrowed - going forth - I have decided to create my own string of rituals around special occasions. So that my family has something to look back and remember.

The test

Every now and then

A test comes my way
By way of
Difficult…chaotic situations
Challenges & roadblocks

My first response usually is
Panic…anger…grief
I feel life is trying to
Test my patience
My perseverance, my dedication
Haven’t you found enough evidence of that already?
A yell out a rhetorical question and move on

I push myself
To overcome the initial angst
And overcome I do.
My perseverance and dedication triumph
I realize that I succeed the test of resolve
What I don’t realize is
I fail the test of trust

For I take a few more steps on my journey
Turn around the corner
And find…
Help, resolution…peace
All it takes is a few more steps to find
Help, resolution…peace!
And yet I panic each time

It’s only after many such tests that I understand
That each time I have expressed
Panic…anger…grief
I have let you down…dear Life!
And yet
Each time you’ve sent me
Help, resolution…peace
You have never let ME down!

And I must remember
The next time you throw a test my way
That you are not really trying to test
My patience or perseverance
For you know I have learnt that lesson already
What you are really trying to teach me is
TRUST and faith in YOU

Fiction: Rose Tinted Glasses

Every evening on her way back home from work she’d cross the house with the red blinds. At this sight, her hurried journey back home would suddenly acquire a different character…forcing her to break out of her preoccupations. Overcome by intrigue she’d let her imagination run. What was that veil concealing?

She had seen such scarlet-lit rooms earlier… fluttering curtains fighting against the breeze to hold their own …standing still long enough to conceal…protect…and then sway mischievously to tease the on-lookers’ imagination.

She’d slow down her steps, trying to steal as many glances at the window and the life within. On many occasions she had seen the shadow of a rather tall man. Going by his stature she had first pegged his age around 30, though his measured…careful walk around the house signalled someone older. Sometimes she had even seen the silhouette of what looked like young woman. What was she doing there? What if he was taking advantage of her…the poor thing? Exploitative B*^4#*d! She would seethe with anger at the very thought.

Then one day…overcome by her self-righteousness…or maybe just plain curiosity – she charged up to that house and knocked! Waiting in front of that door her thoughts ran into a frenzy…is this a mistake…what if he is a serial womanizer…a molester. It was too late to be thinking these thoughts. The door opened and on the other side stood a rather gentle looking middle-aged man. But this looks like a decent man. Half relieved-half surprised she didn’t know what to say.

Er…are you looking for someone…he asked.

She mumbled…I’ve recently moved to the neighbourhood…just thought I should get to know people around here.

He showed her in and shut the door. She heard the clang of the cowbell hung to the doorknob. Following him in - she moved her attention between him and around the house. Nothing about this place seemed unsafe or creepy though there was something weird about the way he walked. Something that suggested that he was strange in his own house. Inside…the house was sparse…little furniture…a lot of white space. Except the blinds…those looked a little blaring and out of sync with the rest of the room.

They spoke for a while…exchanged notes on…where she had come from…what he did for a living. She learnt that he was a piano teacher at the primary school. All through the conversation she couldn’t help but wonder…there was something about this place, which was not usual though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Why hasn’t he turned on the lights in the room…she wondered? Maybe he’s just trying to save on electricity…there’s enough natural light in the room.

Something jumped at her and she stood up in reaction…I must be going before it gets dark.

I am sorry Ms…I haven’t been able to offer you anything. I’ve run of tea and haven’t been able to go to the grocer yet.

Oh no…don’t bother yourself…perhaps another time

It was good that you could stop by. I hardly have any visitors.

Just as she was about to step out of that room…she turned around and remarked…your blinds

Oh aren’t those lovely? They have those little chimes hanging from them...I just heard those and had to buy them. Excuse me if they look dusty…I wouldn’t be able to see. A lady comes to clean every now and then…she hasn’t been coming you know…

All of a sudden the pieces came together in her mind…why the lights weren’t turned on…the number of bells and chimes in the house…his cautious movement.

Shocked at the putridity of her own thinking…she muttered…those blinds…those look really beautiful!

That Light

That light…
Sitting in a lamp
Inside the temple across the road

What does it say to you?

It does not say anything
It is just there
Everyday...It is there!