Let the loved know, how much they are loved.
"You used to share every little thing about your life with me, Khushi. But ever since you entered college, you seem to have got so easily detached from your home and family. And me."
"Oh come on mummy! It's all a part of growing up, of becoming independent. Don't we all change with progress in life? I can't stay a kid forever, can I?"
"You'll remain a kid for me always, Khushi beta. Even when you become a granny."
"Yeah I know that mum. And please don't say that I've got detached from you all. You can see for yourself, college life isn't like school life. I get back home pretty late. And then... "
"And then, you either sleep or switch on the computer, and sit there in your room till dinner time when I have to call out to you a hundred times, Khushi, have your food!... Khushi have your food! right?"
"Oh please! Don't start it all over again. I am fed up. Good night!!" Khushi muttered her last words, abruptly ending the argument, that had occurred the nth time since the advent of her college life, and with that, banged close the door of her room quite loud. Real loud.
"I'm fed up too. But you don't seem to be able to understand..." mom heaved a deep sigh, not of relief, but of exhaustion. Of worry.
"I don't know how to explain it to her! Everyone gets busy with their own lives in college, how am I being any different! Not that it means I don't love my family anymore. Huh!!" she grumbled in frustration, while setting her blanket right, preparing to doze off, bringing the hectic day to an end, quite early today. Since the internet wasn't working.
Mom sure wasn't completely wrong.
(Lights off.
Blanket on.
Silence.
Good night.)
________________________________________
**************************************************
"Finally gonna be home early today! Gonna make mom happy. Yay! Will make her some tea, chat with her for a while. And only then get back to the regular. Hehehe... sounds good. Hmmm," Khushi thought to herself, sitting in the wrecked-up DTC bus that was going to drop her home earlier than the usual today. Mass bunks help, don't they? There were going to be no bitter arguments today. No complaints.
"Darn! The door's locked. So she's out. Umm... never mind, I'll keep the tea and snack ready and then when she comes, 'surprise'!" Khushi smiled in her thoughts, as she unlocked the doors to enter the empty house.
Everything was falling in place as planned. She tidied up the place a little bit. A cup of tea, with a lid over it to keep it hot for as long as possible, along with some snack, was waiting on the table for mom. And so was Khushi.
Love is all about little surprises, some smiles and lots of warmth and care. And for a child, a son or a daughter, nothing beats the sense of pride and the glint of extreme happiness that he or she gets, on seeing his/her mother smiling. Smiling, 'coz of something they did for her.
A child's surprise, innocent.
Rare, but full of care.
Backed by the desire to be 'THE BEST' daughter or son—unaware, that for a mother her child will always be the best. Better than the rest of the world.
It was a daughter's emotions that were keeping her spirits so pumped up for such a small thing.
Nevertheless, she waited.
And she waited.
Waited some more.
And fell asleep. On the table itself, with her head gently resting on the back of her palms.
Every second of a wait for someone loved seems to last a lifetime—the worst test of one's patience, but the best test for love. 'Coz the heart still knows, one glance of the person is worth the apparently infinite longing. In the end, it's love which will make it all seem so finite.
Khushi woke up to loud irking rings of the telephone. Getting up from the table, as she gently rubbed her eyes, the wall clock came into sight. It was 12 A.M, and mom definitely still wasn't there. The tea lay there, untouched, now turned poison. The snack, cold and un-eatable. But obviously the question was, "Still not home, is mom okay?!"
"Hello?"
"Yeah, this is her daughter. May I know who am I talking to?"
"WHAT! look, whoever you are, this is no joke! God will punish you for this!!" some more shouts, howls, cries and questions later, the phone receiver lay hanging by the table.
And Khushi—expressionless, clueless, sat on the floor. Crouched in one corner. Her hands covering her mouth, left open in disbelief. Slightly shivering.
She was lost.
She had lost herself.
She had lost the one the tea and snack had turned cold while waiting for.
She had lost her mother.
She had lost... her world.
Pages of her memories flipped over again and again—deepening wounds that had come up suddenly, from nowhere, marring her soul, scarring her life.
Scenes from the past were passing by with the speed of light, in front of her bewildered eyes.
The hug that had always welcomed her at the door, on coming back from school.
And the questioning eyes that would stare so badly if she got late.
The worried scoldings when she had scored her lowest ever, in Maths, in 6th standard.
And the sense of pride that gleamed bright, on seeing the trophies Khushi had been awarded, for topping in the board exams in her school, both the times.
The tears that had rolled by day and night, as she lay in one room of the house, isolated—suffering from the worst form of Chicken Pox, worried for her present and her future.
And the NO JUNK FOOD instructions.
The unasked-for homemade remedies and tips on how to look prettier.
And the 'pay more attention to studies, than fashion!' lectures.
The anger. And the hugs.
The kisses. And the tears.
The care. And the worries.
The lectures. And the stories.
How many such instances could she dig out from heaps of dusted, faded memories, that she had never cared for, before?
How could she find out the weight of her mother's love, NOW, that she was no longer there with her?
How could she thank god for giving her the most priceless possession of her life, when she no longer possessed it?
Questions came flooding. Answers were nowhere to be seen.
Tears wash away fears, and sorrows. But an eternal loss is eternal. It cannot be washed away. There is only a finite level of despair that can make us cry. Beyond it, there's stark loneliness, grief. And no tears. Yeah, she couldn't cry more.
___________________________________
*************************************************
Baffled, she woke up with near teary eyes and a gravely tense look. The blanket went flying off to the floor and Khushi ran for her life, till she was standing besides her mother in her room, offering countless prayers of gratefulness to the almighty. Her eyes refused to look elsewhere, they were searching for an assurance which only that calm face could offer.
"I love you mom," Khushi whispered. Old eyes do not sleep the sleep of a baby. Mom woke up and was about to raise her questions, but Khushi interrupted.
"Mom, can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Of course baby, come. But what happened, you woke up to some nightmare?"
"I love you mummy. You mean the world to me. Please never leave me alone. Never ever," Khushi murmured with almost teary, closed eyes and a pale smile.
"No my child, I won't leave you ever. You are my world beta!" She was puzzled, but still knew, all that her daughter needed then was assurance. And the sudden splurge of love had only heartened her more.
"You know baby, you're such a kid. An innocent kid."
"I'll always be so for you mommy. Even when I become a granny".
She grinned naughtily and slept the most peaceful sleep, in the world's safest place.
- Her mother's arms.
PS- Love is a feeling, an emotion. Expressing it won't add anything to it, nor would not expressing it take anything from it. But, no one is going to stay with us forever. So leave no chance to tell the ones you love, how much you value them. Time waits for none, you being no exception. So love the loved as much as you can, lest you have to repent later. For even as we continue to pray for some-ONE, some others continue to care for us, ignored yet uncomplaining.
It takes just a few words, a hug, a kiss or a simple gesture to show to someone priceless, their value in your life. Love is simple and priceless. You just need to love it.
-Dedicated to the one I love the most. The person who is easiest to make happy. A hug is all that it takes. :)
By,
"Oh come on mummy! It's all a part of growing up, of becoming independent. Don't we all change with progress in life? I can't stay a kid forever, can I?"
"You'll remain a kid for me always, Khushi beta. Even when you become a granny."
"Yeah I know that mum. And please don't say that I've got detached from you all. You can see for yourself, college life isn't like school life. I get back home pretty late. And then... "
"And then, you either sleep or switch on the computer, and sit there in your room till dinner time when I have to call out to you a hundred times, Khushi, have your food!... Khushi have your food! right?"
"Oh please! Don't start it all over again. I am fed up. Good night!!" Khushi muttered her last words, abruptly ending the argument, that had occurred the nth time since the advent of her college life, and with that, banged close the door of her room quite loud. Real loud.
"I'm fed up too. But you don't seem to be able to understand..." mom heaved a deep sigh, not of relief, but of exhaustion. Of worry.
"I don't know how to explain it to her! Everyone gets busy with their own lives in college, how am I being any different! Not that it means I don't love my family anymore. Huh!!" she grumbled in frustration, while setting her blanket right, preparing to doze off, bringing the hectic day to an end, quite early today. Since the internet wasn't working.
Mom sure wasn't completely wrong.
(Lights off.
Blanket on.
Silence.
Good night.)
________________________________________
**************************************************
"Finally gonna be home early today! Gonna make mom happy. Yay! Will make her some tea, chat with her for a while. And only then get back to the regular. Hehehe... sounds good. Hmmm," Khushi thought to herself, sitting in the wrecked-up DTC bus that was going to drop her home earlier than the usual today. Mass bunks help, don't they? There were going to be no bitter arguments today. No complaints.
"Darn! The door's locked. So she's out. Umm... never mind, I'll keep the tea and snack ready and then when she comes, 'surprise'!" Khushi smiled in her thoughts, as she unlocked the doors to enter the empty house.
Everything was falling in place as planned. She tidied up the place a little bit. A cup of tea, with a lid over it to keep it hot for as long as possible, along with some snack, was waiting on the table for mom. And so was Khushi.
Love is all about little surprises, some smiles and lots of warmth and care. And for a child, a son or a daughter, nothing beats the sense of pride and the glint of extreme happiness that he or she gets, on seeing his/her mother smiling. Smiling, 'coz of something they did for her.
A child's surprise, innocent.
Rare, but full of care.
Backed by the desire to be 'THE BEST' daughter or son—unaware, that for a mother her child will always be the best. Better than the rest of the world.
It was a daughter's emotions that were keeping her spirits so pumped up for such a small thing.
Nevertheless, she waited.
And she waited.
Waited some more.
And fell asleep. On the table itself, with her head gently resting on the back of her palms.
Every second of a wait for someone loved seems to last a lifetime—the worst test of one's patience, but the best test for love. 'Coz the heart still knows, one glance of the person is worth the apparently infinite longing. In the end, it's love which will make it all seem so finite.
Khushi woke up to loud irking rings of the telephone. Getting up from the table, as she gently rubbed her eyes, the wall clock came into sight. It was 12 A.M, and mom definitely still wasn't there. The tea lay there, untouched, now turned poison. The snack, cold and un-eatable. But obviously the question was, "Still not home, is mom okay?!"
"Hello?"
"Yeah, this is her daughter. May I know who am I talking to?"
"WHAT! look, whoever you are, this is no joke! God will punish you for this!!" some more shouts, howls, cries and questions later, the phone receiver lay hanging by the table.
And Khushi—expressionless, clueless, sat on the floor. Crouched in one corner. Her hands covering her mouth, left open in disbelief. Slightly shivering.
She was lost.
She had lost herself.
She had lost the one the tea and snack had turned cold while waiting for.
She had lost her mother.
She had lost... her world.
Pages of her memories flipped over again and again—deepening wounds that had come up suddenly, from nowhere, marring her soul, scarring her life.
Scenes from the past were passing by with the speed of light, in front of her bewildered eyes.
The hug that had always welcomed her at the door, on coming back from school.
And the questioning eyes that would stare so badly if she got late.
The worried scoldings when she had scored her lowest ever, in Maths, in 6th standard.
And the sense of pride that gleamed bright, on seeing the trophies Khushi had been awarded, for topping in the board exams in her school, both the times.
The tears that had rolled by day and night, as she lay in one room of the house, isolated—suffering from the worst form of Chicken Pox, worried for her present and her future.
And the NO JUNK FOOD instructions.
The unasked-for homemade remedies and tips on how to look prettier.
And the 'pay more attention to studies, than fashion!' lectures.
The anger. And the hugs.
The kisses. And the tears.
The care. And the worries.
The lectures. And the stories.
How many such instances could she dig out from heaps of dusted, faded memories, that she had never cared for, before?
How could she find out the weight of her mother's love, NOW, that she was no longer there with her?
How could she thank god for giving her the most priceless possession of her life, when she no longer possessed it?
Questions came flooding. Answers were nowhere to be seen.
Tears wash away fears, and sorrows. But an eternal loss is eternal. It cannot be washed away. There is only a finite level of despair that can make us cry. Beyond it, there's stark loneliness, grief. And no tears. Yeah, she couldn't cry more.
___________________________________
*************************************************
Baffled, she woke up with near teary eyes and a gravely tense look. The blanket went flying off to the floor and Khushi ran for her life, till she was standing besides her mother in her room, offering countless prayers of gratefulness to the almighty. Her eyes refused to look elsewhere, they were searching for an assurance which only that calm face could offer.
"I love you mom," Khushi whispered. Old eyes do not sleep the sleep of a baby. Mom woke up and was about to raise her questions, but Khushi interrupted.
"Mom, can I sleep with you tonight?"
"Of course baby, come. But what happened, you woke up to some nightmare?"
"I love you mummy. You mean the world to me. Please never leave me alone. Never ever," Khushi murmured with almost teary, closed eyes and a pale smile.
"No my child, I won't leave you ever. You are my world beta!" She was puzzled, but still knew, all that her daughter needed then was assurance. And the sudden splurge of love had only heartened her more.
"You know baby, you're such a kid. An innocent kid."
"I'll always be so for you mommy. Even when I become a granny".
She grinned naughtily and slept the most peaceful sleep, in the world's safest place.
- Her mother's arms.
PS- Love is a feeling, an emotion. Expressing it won't add anything to it, nor would not expressing it take anything from it. But, no one is going to stay with us forever. So leave no chance to tell the ones you love, how much you value them. Time waits for none, you being no exception. So love the loved as much as you can, lest you have to repent later. For even as we continue to pray for some-ONE, some others continue to care for us, ignored yet uncomplaining.
It takes just a few words, a hug, a kiss or a simple gesture to show to someone priceless, their value in your life. Love is simple and priceless. You just need to love it.
-Dedicated to the one I love the most. The person who is easiest to make happy. A hug is all that it takes. :)
By,
Labels:
love,
Stories,
teenage stuff
It's pain......
It's hard to bear
It's hard to share
When it's killing you within,
it's hard to not let it appear.
It's pain.
Lost love
or a grudge against the almighty above
Whatever be the cause,
it's hard to get rid of.
It's pain.
Tears roll down endlessly
Swelling the eyes pathetically
But all this in a locked room,
'coz the fact remains, it's yours only.
It's pain.
Words can't say
Nothing seems okay
No one's cheering would help
'coz afterall, a joke or smile won't take it away.
It's pain.
Darkness has surrounded
The door to light looks bolted
Perplexed, helpless, restless, you look around,
but life it makes, seem so halted.
It's pain.
Wrings within
Suffocates breathing
But can't let it show up goddammit!!
Lest you look a baby crying!
That's pain!
Not that nothing can be done
Not that this 'night' won't be ripped apart by the 'sun'
Not that it's gonna stay forever,
but right now, it's something you can't shun.
Yes, it's pain.
You're confused, you're hurt.
You're frustrated, with no comfort.
But alas! Life is life, 'coz this is there
To set you right, when you tend to divert.
Yes, it is really pain!!
Either bounce back or fall down forever
But this isn't the last time, forget this never
Time and again, it'll always come back,
to test, if you're a dud. Or the real winner.
Sigh.......yes yes, that's pain.
Labels:
philosophical,
poetry
hahahaha !!! :P
If you want everyone to laugh with you, laugh ON you.
Absolutely no one will mind it! :D
Says,
thanks for reading...
DO NOT COPY! ;)
Money vs. Love...
Money can't buy you love
But love won't leave you with any money either!
Says,
thanks for reading...
DO NOT COPY! ;)
'Beating' an opponent. Literally.
To beat an opponent in an argument, try to defeat him.
But if it doesn't work, just BEAT him!
;)
Says,
thanks for reading...
DO NOT COPY! ;)
Stepping into others' shoes
Never ever, should one try to step into someone else's shoes. Because,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
it's not hygienic.
By,
thanks for reading...
DO NOT COPY! ;)
Can you do it?
can do, do it.
by these morons!
thanks for reading...
DO NOT COPY! ;)
Bending towards atheism...
"Sometimes, the mystical beauty around me makes me wonder, something so divine and pious must be venting out from a source truly sacrosanct ", and that is when I am compelled to believe in the existence of an almighty power."That was an extract from my own article, written a long time back, titled, GOD, SPIRITUALITY AND RELIGION .... (the real one)
I've always been slightly confused about my religious and spiritual beliefs, though, that I'm spiritual but not religious, is a stance that I've forever maintained and perhaps, still do. No matter how rational I try to be, I just can't let myself ignore all that is divine, cosmic, explicitly or implicitly beautiful in and around the universe we live in. The enigma of nature, of music or anything else that touches my soul and heart wrings me within, as if compelling me to believe in the existence of the so-called 'god'. But my own statement quoted above, "something so so divine MUST be venting out from a source utterly sacrosanct," looks LAME to me, right now.
Why now? I do not know. Maybe 'coz we grow, with each day, each new acquaintance, each experience, each observation, each new thought, each envision and so on. And of course, there's no reason why it won't be this way for me too.
Frankly, I feel that my constant telling myself and others that there 'must' be something godly, for whatever reasons, is a way of self satisfaction, or to make it sound better, a thin ray of hope, of optimism. Something similar to what Aamir Khan a.k.a Rancho preached in most of ours' favorite, 3 Idiots—Place your hand close to your heart and say 'al iz well...al iz well..", fooling our heart in tougher times by telling it, "everything's alright! Yeah, all is fine!” Can you sense the striking similarity in the two situations, the way I can? Isn't that what we, alright, let's say 'I', too am doing, in trying to convince myself, there ‘has’ to be a god, his highness, yeah!
Do you sense my beliefs bending towards atheism? I do. It's not optimism turning into pessimism; it's like clearing the mist in front of one’s eyes to be able to see things clearer, as they actually are. It's like asking your heart to shut up, sit in one corner and let the brain do it's job. (Quoting myself here—"The brain is way too intelligent and infallible. But dammit, it always falls for the heart and gets defeated!")
Let me share with you, all those thoughts over god-related perceptions that stand as the reason for this gradual but continuous transition. A closer look at all that actually matters, here:
1. The practice of 'praying': Why do we have to pray? In times of good to thank or in worse ones, to plead for help, why at all do we need to pray? Is it to please god? Would he punish me if I don't? Or will I not be allowed to have a life as happy as those who do, if I do not pray regularly or sometimes or at whatever frequency?
Well, if the answer is yes, then I'm afraid to say, how is god 'god' and not human? I don't find it wrong to expect the universe's caretaker to be at every 'child' of his' beck and call, in times of dire need, without waiting for him to fall on his knees in prayer or without checking his records, how many times a day does he call his name.
An ordinary human being too, no matter how nice, pure hearted and selfless, would be pleased if he's 'worshiped'. No? Like the ones who have 'the seat(s)'? The people in power? Unscrupulous, irresponsible, worthless, tactical, cheap, shameless and the list goes on... the list of adjectives almost all of us use for these 'powerful' people. But then, ultimately they are the ones run after, appeased, showered with presents and stuff like that, to get some work done. Is or isn't the practice of praying on the same lines? I wonder.
2. Dukh mein sumiran sab karein, sukh mein kare na koi..? (A popular Hindi doublet that says everybody remembers god during the hard times, but no one does in the happy ones)
Even an ordinary human being wouldn't let someone forget a favor he did to him. He may or may not bring it up again and again, but somewhere, he expects that person to just NOT FORGET a good deed of his and if he dares to, he'll be reminded of it, directly or indirectly, at some time or the other. Maybe even punished, given a chance, we call it 'revenge', isn't it?
So? Does god take revenge, if I do not pray to him? Or if I dare to forget the last time he had been generous to me? If I forgot to thank him for my last blessing, will I be reminded of his might, through something tougher coming BANG on my head? As if mincing with a smirk, "Now you know who I am? B-|".
I do not say, that it is justified to remember your supreme's name in the needy times and not give a damn to anyone else in the better of them. But yes, that's still evil, selfish, immature; in short, human. And 'god' surely, isn't human! So, to expect a difference between the two, is that wrong on my part? I don't think so.
3. Those suffering are paying for their deeds of previous birth? Eh?
Well, 'forgiveness' was one of the few lessons I got as a child, every one of us did, isn't it? So, is god an exception for it?
Nowhere do I tend to mean that one should be allowed to live the way he used to, after committing a hideous crime, but, with a 'god' always keeping an eye on my actions, why at all would he let me tread on the wrong path? While I'm committing a sin, is he resting in his place calmly, saying, "When the time comes, she'll repent for this. My punishment would take care of that." Well, if that is how it is, I'd like to mention that even my parents, who're human beings, won't let me go on with it if they're seeing or noticing me going the wrong way. They won't think that 'let's let her do it, then we can punish her and make her repent for it.' So, aren't our parents, ordinary beings of flesh and bones and emotions, more 'godly' than 'god' himself?
4. God please make this happen, I'll do this and that...!!
"Bribing" is the word for this, no matter how rude. I know this is a practice on the part of humans only but to be honest, I see it working many a time. Umm... shouldn't 'god' try and bring an end to it rather than encourage the trend even more? I feel so.
5. Why do the superstitious ones seem happier to me?
Now this is a personal, heart felt opinion. It's not about blaming god 'coz of some difficulty that has popped up in my life (I myself made a sarcastic statement some time back- "one should believe in god, for that gives us a name to blame, for anything that goes amiss") but in general, the people who visit the temple daily, maybe black hearted inside but big god-fearing for the outer world, taking cash and kind from under the table and then donating a part of it in religious places, or okay, among the poor and things like that, seem to be only prospering and flourishing more with time, while millions of people—women and kids, in particular, seem to be literally suffering for no fault of theirs, in a hell lot of ways.
For my parents, all three of their kids are the same and that is how it is, for all parents, right? Then why is god's approach to life not even comparable to that of his own 'creation'— human beings? Talk about double standards or what?
I do not know, how sane or insane I sound. The best of philosophy comes in the worst of times: so I believe. And somewhere, that alone has led me to a change of mind and heart. How fair or unfair it is, I do not know. All that I know is, even if 'god' exists, if THIS is what he is like, then I, couldn't care less.
I see myself turning into a complete atheist, some years down the line. Till then, contemplation continues...
PS: Needless to say, the thoughts expressed hereby are totally my own, bearing no intention to hurt anyone. But I do not believe in the concept of saying all that you want and then ending it with a 'no offence meant', to avoid bringing up any sort of controversy. I'd be rather obliged if I get to hear back your views on the same, as harsh or as sweet, you'd want them to be.
Labels:
Articles,
philosophical,
religion,
spirituality
Soul Sister
A soul sister, is all that I have longed for
That I can never get one, is too a fact I abhor.
Coz it needs great trust and greater understanding
And given my nature, that too seems a longing.
Wonder if it's over-expectation, or my own lack of hope
But a confidant is really needed, in times difficult to cope.
Can there be someone, who will hear me moan
While my face, a plastic smile would adorn?
Can there be someone, who will know am hurt
While my attention I'd pretend to divert?
Can there be someone, who will read my silence
And know if it's bad health or an after-storm trance?
Can there be someone, my tempers who'll understand
But when treading the wrong path, would take a strong stand?
Can there be someone, my mirror image who will be
Neither lover, nor just a friend, yet unclassifiable as a 'he' or 'she'?
So much like me, yet so much different
Sigh... I know, it's mean to be so stringent.
For neither am I so great, nor so fortunate
To have that 'one', the yearning of most's fate.
But with so many friends around, when not one can get you right
What else can you do, than bemoan the same plight.
And pen down a 'poem', feelings being the same
Though as it may sound, no matter how lame.
Alas! 'Words' alone have the power to convey
All that I may not otherwise, be able to say.
And hence for now, I award them the title of this so-called poem
For they never hurt or expect, yet accept me, the way I totally am.
So that was it, a rather 'not my way' of expressing it all
Coz am poetic at heart, though not a poet that 'tall'.
NOTE: The phrase "soul sister" can be seen to be having multifarious interpretations everywhere, I'd like to mention, here, for me, it refers to a rather hypothetical picture of a 'somebody' not really a lover, but not just a friend too. Not specifically a boy or a girl, but someone way beyond these classifications. Someone you can totally relate to, a mirror image, but maybe minus all of your own negatives, hence the perfect guide, friend, companion, the hand to hold in times of distress, the shoulder to cry on when depressed, the teacher to be scolded by when wrong.......and so on!!!!! Sure, all that I've written above, should say it all. Words are good, but too many of them, can spoil it all.
Happy reading. :)
Labels:
personal,
philosophical,
poetry,
teenage stuff
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