Friday, December 16, 2016

Time Heals!

‘Antara, why don’t you clean your room today, beta,’ said her mother. ‘Diwali is in a few days anyway.’

‘What? Don’t tell me you haven’t cleaned my room for the past 3 Diwalis!’ exclaimed Antara acting shocked.

 ‘Hahaha, no, no, your room is being cleaned every day, but I haven’t touched your bookshelf. Check what you need and whatever you don’t put it in this carton, I’ll give it away,’ said her mother handing her a carton.

Antara was home for Diwali after a long time and just seeing the preparations - the cleaning, the decorations and sweets and savory being prepared made her realise how much she had missed home. She walked to her bookshelf and smiled. She ran a happy finger over the books, bent over and took a deep long breath, inhaling the dusky smell of her books. It brought back so many memories!

‘Looks like you are going to stand here all day without getting anything done,’ chided her mother.

‘Hahaha, no ma, I’m getting on the job right away!’ she said taking out the first stack of books. ‘College books first,’ she told herself. At the top of the stack was the familiar ink blue cover staring at her. ‘Mr. Kotler! How I’ve missed you!’ she said fondly picking up the marketing management book by Philip Kotler and blowing off the dust on the top. ‘I can’t possibly part with you!’ she said holding it close to her body. One by one she looked at the books and by the time she had finished with the stack, very few books were in the carton to be thrown away.

Suddenly, her eyes caught something at the end of the stack. ‘You are here!’ she exclaimed, ‘I thought I had lost you!’ she picked up a diary with a warm brown leather cover and the year 2013 inscribed on it.  She opened the diary and flipped through the pages. Farewell messages from her friends occupied the pages, some neatly written, some hastily scribbled but all of them exuding the love and affection they shared. She read them one after the other, letting nostalgia flood her again.

 ‘I still remember that lucky shoulder of mine that gave you support when you fell asleep during our field trip to Mumbai’, Nishanth had scribbled. She laughed at the memory. The Mumbai-Goa trip! What fun!

 ‘You were my right hand (literally!) when I suffered a fracture’, her best friend Saanch had written. She had filled in three complete pages before signing off, ‘You are the best! I’ll miss you!’  She kissed the page and hugged the diary, ‘You are the best too, Saanch!’

Then her eyes fell on a folded piece of paper neatly tucked into one of the pages. She instantly knew what it was. She held in her hand for some time debating if she should open it. ‘One last time,’ she promised herself. She opened the folds spreading the A4 sheet of paper and proceeded to read it contents. She had not addressed it to anyone, but she knew whom it was for.

“That evening is so vividly etched in my mind. It seems like yesterday, but almost a year has passed. Nothing about the evening seems farce to me. Everything was as true as truth can be. The feelings, the emotions and the words. They came out in a torrent as if they had been waiting for years for that momentous evening and when it finally came, it washed us away and drenched us in love. I would like to believe that every word was said as it was meant. I hope no one tells me otherwise or it will leave me heartbroken and I will never be able to place my trust on anyone ever again. I trust every word that you said. It stirred feelings within me like never before. It took me to heights I had never climbed before. It was dizzying but I trusted that you will hold me if I were to fall. You did not see me explode with joy when you said the three magical words nor did you see my hands shake and tremble as I said them to you. It seemed wrong but felt so right.

When I think about it, nothing has ever felt more right. Never have I expressed myself more languidly before. Never have I felt so free as I gave wings to my feelings. Yes, I have loved you wholly and completely. I have put my trust in you. You have been in my thoughts every waking hour. You have been in the songs that I listen to. You have been in the books that I read and in the words that I write. It feels like you silently crept inside me and became a part of me.

Sometimes, I wonder why that moment was fleeting. Why did it not last? It got over before it even began. Why then am I still in that girdle? Why cannot I lift myself out of it? Were your words not true? Did you not speak your mind? Were you not as much in love? If you were, then why did you let go of me? Why did you tell me how much I mean to you if I did not?

I refuse to believe you lied. I refuse to believe that was fake. Tell me that everything about that evening was true. Tell me that whatever is holding you back is not me. Tell me that you love me as much as I do. I secretly pray that you love me as much as you said you do. I pray that someday you'd say it again. Just like you did that evening. And this time you'd not run away.

Why are you running away? From whom are you trying to escape? Is it from me? Or from yourself? Maybe from circumstances? Or maybe from destiny? Maybe we were not meant to be. Maybe we will never be too. But does that take away from us the right to love? I want nothing more than for you to tell me that you love me too. This is my wish that I send out to the universe. I hope it is listening and I hope it will come true someday.

I will wait...even if it takes forever. I cannot describe how much I miss talking to you. I miss the way you made me feel. I miss the wit, the humour, the jokes. I miss the way you cared, I miss the tenderness. I miss your words, your voice, your love. I miss you. I do.

She folded the piece of paper and placed it where it was. She smiled. That surprised her because she remembered the day she had written this. Tears wouldn’t stop flooding her face even as she tried to put her feelings on paper. And she had cried on the innumerable occasions she had read it after that. But today, she could smile. She wondered why she had never posted the letter. But today she realised that she had done the right thing not posting it. It was surprising, that today those emotions were gone. It was hard to believe that she could have felt such an intense emotion for someone. She remembered what a nervous wreck she was those days. If someone had told her that three years down the line all this would look so distant and would not matter anymore, she could have strangled them. But it was true. Those memories were indeed distant and they didn’t matter to her anymore. They were only memories now and she had been able to make peace with them. 

Whoever said ‘time heals’ was right.

She opened her purse and looked at the picture of her husband Abhishek smiling at her. It took her three years to realise that it was the right decision choosing not to wait. That forever would have been truly forever! For the first time, she was glad the universe had not listened to her!     

Wednesday, December 7, 2016


I was speaking to a friend of many years, over 15 years to be precise. Jakes and I had worked together for 8 years and kept in touch for 7 years thereafter. After a longish conversation as always, he said, ‘Over the years, people have come, and people have gone, some stayed friends even after they were gone, but somehow, you are one person I am most comfortable conversing and being with and enjoy talking to.’  

Needless to say, I was touched.

While I was ruminating over the feeling of warmth he had left me with, I went a couple of years down memory lane.

During my last visit to Nagpur, I met my best friend’s Pavi’s father whom I hadn’t met for more than 12 years, ever since I left the city and migrated to Bangalore. I have known him from ever since I was in kindergarten; Pavi and I have grown up together. ‘You have forgotten me, Ambi uncle,’ I chided him, not having heard from him for long. To that, he smiled, and nodded his head. ‘Every morning when I pray, apart from my own family members, I pray for the well-being and happiness of 5 other people; a couple of my friends, one of Raghu’s (his son) friend, and two of Pavi’s friends. You are one of those few people who are in my prayers every day,’ he said.  

I have no words to describe how I felt. To know there is someone who keeps you in their prayers every day, is a feeling like no other, isn’t it?

A week ago, my dearest friend Aj, told me that when he was watching the movie, Dear Zindagi, there was this scene where Alia is asked to count her top five friends. And then, he told me that 'I' was in his top three. You can bet, I was deeply humbled and touched!

These three incidents brought me to the realisation that it is not very often that we let our loved ones know that we love them, be they our friends or family. While we are quick to let people know through our actions or words that we hate them or dislike them, we don’t think that love needs to be shown. What a silly notion!

This brought to mind a book I had read some time ago. Titled, ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ by Mitch Albom, it has a scene where the old man Morrie holds a living funeral for himself. He is on his deathbed, and so he invites friends over so that he can listen to all the nice things they have to say about him. What good would it be if people said all these lovely things about him after he were dead, he reasons.  He wouldn’t be around to hear them out anyway. 

Very deep, and funnily true, don’t you think?

And that, is the reason for this post.

Imagine, if I were dead and gone and then at my funeral, Jakes were to tell my kin how he enjoyed talking to me, how would I even know? How would I be able to enjoy that feeling of being loved? And what difference would it make to my kin?

Imagine if Ambi uncle had never told me that he prayed for my well-being every day, how would I have the opportunity to be grateful for his love. Just knowing that I am in someone’s prayers, gives me immense strength during my days of despair.  

How would I ever know, if he hadn't told me, that Aj held me in such high regard? 

So, beginning today, remember to express how much someone means to you, how much you love someone, and what an amazing difference they make to your life. No one is going to be around forever, neither you nor them. Don’t deprive each other of this feeling of warmth and happiness.

Stay Loved!

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Pain enough?

He tortured her, beat her black and blue
They called it abuse; she had wounds to prove,
She was the victim, he’d have to redeem,
The crime he committed by destroying her dream
Swollen and bruised, limb and pride
Scars don’t lie, though the tears have dried.


She tortured him, took his peace away,
For the inflicted agony, she’d have to pay.
Mutilating his cocoon, stripped him bare
The spite, the venom, she spewed, all there
They’ve heard her peel his guts away,
Words don’t lie, they don't, do they?

 Alone she sits, staring into vacuum,
Wishing he’d notice, wishing he’d come
There are no words that inflict pain,
None tumble out, but then again,
It engulfs her, ties her in knots,
It’s the silence that unplugs the clot. 

There’s no wound, except those on the heart
Invisible to the eye, it rips her apart,
The stab of loneliness that he inflicts,
Bleeds her to death and yet she lives
There’s no proof, she’s been driven insane,
It isn’t pain enough, what’s to complain?

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The other side of the story.

As a child, Dusshera was special. Not just for the fun and food that accompanied it, but also for the “Raavana Dahan” or the burning of the effigy of the demon king Raavana at the Gandhi Maidan on Vijayadashami day. While we watched in awe, someone dressed as Lord Rama would shoot an arrow at the larger than life, ten headed effigy of the cacodemon, stuffed with crackers, and it would splutter his ten heads, setting him on fire. I remember cheering and clapping with the crowd, feeling what everyone felt- no matter how evil someone is, goodness will ultimately prevail and engulf it in the flames of righteousness.

I am no stranger to the Ramayana, I have read and re-read dozens of different versions of the epic. The approach to the narration might be different, but all of them propound the same theme - Raavana was evil, he deserved to die.

I grew up thinking that the world hates Raavana. 

But it is now that I know I wasn't entirely right. Because not all do.

There are versions quite contrary to what we have been reading all along! And here, Raavana is definitely not the evil one!

Noted 17th century French writer and noble, Francois de La Rochefoucauld, says it best,

                           “There are heroes in evil as well as villains in good”.

We can’t really define the world in black and white, can we? There’s so much hiding amongst the grays! Perhaps, that is the thought behind the many temples dedicated to Raavana. While the whole world (or rather, most of it!) hates the demon king, there is a perceptible population in the country that worships him!

Was Raavana a Gond king?
A few hours from the place where I have spent my childhood watching Raavana being consigned to flames every year, is a tiny village called Gond. Its tribal population venerates the demon king and ascribes godly status to him. While the rest of the country revels in the celebration of Dusshera, the Gonds celebrate the ‘Raavan Mahotsav’. They call themselves descendants of Raavana–the ‘Raavanvanshis’ and have their own version of the story of Ramayana which is nowhere near to the story we have heard so far! To them, Raavana was a Gond king and Lanka does not refer to Srilanka but to a ‘hilly place’ in their local dialect, Gondi. He was apparently slain by Aryan invaders.

They say Raavana was born here!
The Bisrakh village in Greater Noida, Uttar Pradesh is believed to be the birth place of Raavana. A 5.5 feet idol of the demon stands alongside a 42 feet Shivalinga. 

They claim Raavana is their son-in-law!
There are many such temples all over the country. Ravangram in Madhya Pradesh’s Vidisha district has a temple dedicated to Raavana. Constructed somewhere between the 9th and 14th century, the temple has a 10 feet reclining idol of Raavana, which has been worshipped as a symbol of prosperity for over 600 years now. The demon king is regarded as the son-in-law of the village as his wife Mandodari is said to belong to this village.

And here’s where the wedding supposedly took place.
Speaking of Mandodari, there is also a village called Mandor named after her near Jodhpur, in Rajasthan, the place where she is supposed to have wed Raavana. The people of this village also worship Raavana and observe his death anniversary on Vijaydashami day, offering “pinddaan” or obeisance to the departed soul.

Here, he is regarded as a learned man.
Vijayadashami is also the day when some people in Kanpur, worship Raavana at his ‘Dashanana Raavana’ temple that opens only once a year. These people believe Raavana to be a highly learned individual who had immense knowledge of the scriptures, especially of the SamaVeda and was a great exponent of music. 

Similar sentiments echo at the Kakinada Raavana temple in Andhra Pradesh and Koteshwar Temple in Gujarat.

Are we prepared to see the other side of the story?
This Dusshera, when I look back on those times, and remember the symbolic slaying of Raavana year after year, it makes me wonder if he was indeed so evil and if he deserves to be punished thus! Especially, when there are alternative versions of the story to look into. Especially, when I look at the savagery happening in the world around me.

The brave and learned Raavana, was among Lord Shiva’s greatest devotees. On a particular day when the combined grey matter of all his heads were in resting stage, he unceremoniously kidnapped a married woman and whisked her off to his exotic land.

He regretted his decision pretty soon. For he paid for it with all his heads rolled off his proud and arrogant neck.

What a dreadful thing to do! With just one act of immorality, he drew a cloak over all the goodness that he could have stood for.

He sure did have a glad eye for Lord Rama’s wife, but no one disputes the fact that he never misbehaved with Devi Sita, neither did he force her to marry him. He waited. Waited for her to consent. It irked him that she never did consent, and he probably knew that she never would, but that didn’t turn him into a monster.

Most men these days wouldn’t have half the patience, quarter humility and one-tenth the respect for women! Where’s the respect for women these days, anyway?

The once mighty Raavana is paying for it every year since. Thousands of years later, people still find it entertaining to see his head blasted off with crackers…amidst festivities and distribution of sweets.

In the very same place as the festivities, thousands of women are being whisked off unceremoniously every day. Putting even the mighty Raavava to shame! Unabashedly displaying ten times the barbarianism, with a single head over their shoulders than Raavana managed with his ten heads together! But the modern Raavana walks tall with his proud and arrogant head still intact on his head, the wails of the outraged women notwithstanding. 

No. I don’t intend to glorify Raavana.

I just wish we could punish the Raavanas of the modern times - the “rakshasas”who are ten times guiltier, ten times more demonic, and ten times more fiendish than the original was.  If Raavana deserves to be burned every year, so do they, who defile and degrade women every day, everywhere. Don’t you think so?

Sunday, October 9, 2016

Book Review: This Love that feels Right! by Ravinder Singh

The Plot:
Finding love has never been easy. Especially if you have been brought up in a conservative family and your mind has been conditioned to think in a certain conservative way. But sometimes you do find love in the most unlikely of places even if you haven’t been looking for it. But what if it seems wrong but feels right? That’s what the story is all about.

The story:
The book explores the journey of Naina Singhania, a girl from a well to do family married to an ambitious businessman Sid, who has no time for her. She joins a gym to get in shape for her anniversary and ends up making two very close friends – a TV journalist Manvika and her personal trainer Aarav. Love blossoms between Aarav and Naina but both know that their relationship has no future. What happens when a neglected wife finds love outside her marriage? Will Aarav fall in love with some's else's wife? Does Naina have the courage to find her voice amidst an orthodox family who does not expect women to give voice to their feelings? Do Aarav and Naina find the courage to admit their love to each other or does their love perish? What is Manvika’s role in the story? Saying too much will reveal the plot, so all I’d say is it is nothing like you imagine it to be! It is not a regular story with a regular ending, and will have you hooked till the very end.

What I liked:
The story has several plusses. The narration is a delight to read; especially the roller coaster of emotions that Naina goes through is very well described. There is this ‘moment’ that Naina and Aarav have in the BMI room; the narrative is sweetly sensuous and beautiful. The narration is so vivid that you can actually imagine the bead of sweat trickle and drop into Naina’s navel!
Then there’s this conversation that keeps happening between Naina and Manvika; Manvika’s views may come across as too progressive to some and they may completely disagree with her while others might find it resonating with their beliefs. But irrespective of whether you agree with her or disagree, it might still force you to spare some thought to her words. As for me, call me old school, but I might not necessarily agree with Manvika.
There aren’t too many characters, which is again a huge plus; you don’t have to keep remembering who is who! The existing characters have a well-defined personality and that is significant. Their roles are pretty prominent and exciting.     

What I would have liked:
There are no visible faults in the storyline, except the fact that Naina and Aarav have a pretty tight leash on their emotions for each other for most part of the story. I wonder if it is really possible. It is like holding this cup of your favourite ice cream in your hand and not eating it because, well, you think the ice cream doesn’t want to be eaten. On second thoughts, maybe there are people who do have the will power to exhibit such restraint!  But I would have liked a few more ‘moments’ like the one in the BMI room. 

Final words:
The story is a first person narrative, but what’s interesting is that a male writer has effortless penned the story in the voice of the female protagonist. The emotions flow so beautifully in the story that at no point does it cross one’s mind that the writer is not female. So kudos to Ravinder for that!  The story is not really new but the handling of the story definitely is. I loved reading the book. It brought me some tears, some smiles and some gush-worthy moments. This is a fun read, go for it if you are a diehard romantic. This book definitely feels right!

The Blurb:
Life would have been easier had it been possible for us to plan falling in love; more importantly, avoid falling in love . . .
‘Love is not for you,’ she told herself. Inside—just like any girl—she desired to be loved. She had accepted her life the way it was, till one day love showed up unannounced, uninvited! That's the thing with love. It doesn't take permission. It's in its very nature to gatecrash into our lives. Standing face-to-face with love, she finds herself asking, ‘Is this love right?’ The answer is not simple. It never was . . .
This intense love story will shake every belief you've ever had about love.

Title: This love that feels right!
Author: Ravinder Singh
No of pages: 230
Genre: Romance

Friday, September 30, 2016

Book Review : The Smitten Husband

Looks like we have our very own Mills and Boons series now! The queen of contemporary romance, Sundari Venkatraman, is back with yet another romantic novel – The Smitten Husband. The good news for lovers of romantic novels is that this novella is the first in a five book series called ‘Marriages Made in India’. Marriages in India are anything but ordinary and the series holds a lot of promise. I can’t wait to read all the books in this series!

The Smitten Husband is the story of love blossoming between a couple tied together in an arranged marriage. The protagonist and the smitten husband is Ram, the eldest son of the Maheshwari family, who falls in love with the feisty Sapna at first sight. It is an arranged match brought together by the two families and while Ram has no qualms about the marriage and is more than happy to wed Sapna, she fails to see her prince charming in Ram.  She puts forth a condition to stay in the marriage. What is that condition? Does Ram accept it? And does he manage to win over Sapna? Does she finally accept him as a part of her life? To know, you will have to grab your copy of the Smitten Husband and find out how the drama unfolds.

Sundari’s previous novel, The Runaway Bridegroom, features the love story of Ram’s sister Chanda. With this story, Sundari brings forth yet another shade of love. The Smitten Husband is a delightfully breezy read. That the story is set in an Indian background, makes the rituals and customs associated with arranged marriages relatable and fun to read. It is commendable how Sundari’s female characters are always so strong and independent. Take Sapna for instance, though financially poor, she is still an independent girl with a mind of her own. She is a no-nonsense girl who will not compromise with her ideals. Another feature of Sundari’s novels are male characters like Ram, who are sensitive, caring and loving and make you wish that all men were like him. You almost always end up falling in love with the hero!

While the story unfolds at a steady and smooth pace, my only grouse was that the novella got over too soon. I wished it had gone on a little longer. That, and the fact that the story was a little straightforward. Perhaps a little twist in the plot like we got to read in An autograph for Anjali or some terse moments like we read in The Madras Affair, would have been welcome.

 But having said that, The Smitten Husband, is quite a delightful read. If you are a fan of romantic novels, and the Mills and Boons kind of romances make you go all mushy and weak in the knees, do grab this one! 


Ram Maheshwari is a successful jewelry designer who has a huge showroom on MI Road, Jaipur. He’s tall, dark, handsome and a billionaire to boot. He’s twenty-nine and falls in with his parents’ wishes when they try to arrange his marriage.

The lovely, stormy-eyed Sapna Purohit is from Pushkar. She’s managed to finish school and makes a living by doing mehendi designs during weddings. She’s always dreamt of a Prince on a white horse, sweeping her off her feet.

One look into Sapna’s grey eyes and Ram is lost. Only, Sapna’s unable to see her Prince in Ram. Being from a poor family, she has no choice but to go along with the tide when the Maheshwaris offer to bear all expenses of the wedding. 

Does that mean that the feisty Sapna is all set to accept Ram as her husband? She puts forth a condition, after the wedding. Will The Smitten Husband agree to it?

Title : The Smitten Husband
Author : Sundari Venkatraman
Number of pages : 104

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Book Review: The Guest by Mitali Meelan

The Blurb:
Eighteen-year-old Neha Ranade is perfectly content with her life—a singer boyfriend, a group of loyal friends and with the college annual festival around the corner, her days are full and exciting. But when her father’s Canadian colleague arrives home, Neha’s grand plans are uprooted. What could be the intentions of this curious guest’s sudden visit—for better or for worse?
My review:
What breezy read this one was! I finished the book in one go. The story moved at such a fast pace that I just couldn't put it down! The language is fluid and impeccable, and the story flows smoothly. The emotions of the protagonists especially that of the central character Neha, are so beautifully depicted, that the reader can feel her anguish, dilemma, and fears. 
I usually prefer a second person narrative, but reading the story as a first-person account was also surprisingly delightful. What I also found adorable is that there is no attempt to glorify the main character or project her as a 'holier-than-thou' kind of person. She is a hero in her own might, despite the flaws in her character. She could be anyone of, with all those little imperfections that make us human - the way we are quick to judge, quick to own and disown people, act a little selfishly at times, and yet manage to hold unadulterated love for the people who matter to us the most. 
If the debut novel is so wonderful, I can't wait to read more from Mitali! 
No of Pages: 237
Genre: Young Adult Contemporary
ISBN: 9788192982229
My rating : 4/5

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

The Little Princess is 5 today!

For once, I remembered The Little Princess' birthday!

I have forgotten almost all milestones of TLP that could have caused me to add and deduct a few more pounds, the former to my waist and the latter from my purse. Blame it on my ant-like memory, but unless someone points it out, I am wont to forget milestones and to celebrate! Not this time, though!

The Little Princess is all of five today, and what a long way we've come together! She took in my ramblings and stories with equal ease. She brought me friends, who read what I wrote, praised and critiqued, but most importantly held me when I faltered. For all this and more, I remain eternally thankful - you know who you all are!

These 5 years have taught me a lot. It taught me the importance of good content, it made me realise the strength of effective networking, and most of all, it helped me realise that my greatest joy is in writing. TLP happened without a thought, I had not paid much attention to the naming of this blog, nor to the content that I'd be featuring here. As a result, I have been rambling about everything I can think of here - dabbling in poetry and fiction with as much flourish as in parenting and relationship topics. But I guess, most of have been in the exact same spot and we need a nudge in the right direction to help us know where we should be heading.

An inspiring post from a fellow blogger, Sid, made me question if TLP is a brand yet, and also made me realise that I do not have a niche. I had to push myself to introspect, but the Eureka moment occurred when a friend happened to accidentally reveal to me what it was!

Armed with a new thought, I wondered how I could revamp TLP without taking away the essence of the blog. Over the years TLP had developed a character of her own and I was not sure I wanted to tear down everything to start from scratch and develop this into a niche blog. So TLP stays till she wants to! So I went on to the next best thing...

On her birthday, TLP announces the birth of her little sister, "Ground Coffee Bean". The 'About' page tells you the idea behind Ground Coffee Bean.

Do hop over and say hello to TLP's little sister! She needs all your love!  Let me know what you think.

P.S. I'm experimenting with WordPress for the first time, and hence I'm still trying to get used to it. The site is still in its infancy. Blogger definitely seems like a more user-friendly interface.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Wishful Thinking!


If I could buy a ticket to travel
Where would I want to go?
To the hills, to the oceans, or forests,
Or to the mountains capped with snow?
These places I've been to before,
And they've thrilled me to bits each time,
But that's not where this ride will be,
Oh,where do I put my dime?

Perhaps, I know a better place,
 I'd travel down my memory lane,
Just the place I wish I could go,
To re-live my childhood again.
I'd like to find the stop where I,
Left my innocent self behind,
I'd like to know when I really grew up,
Enmeshed in the daily grind.

I want to know the station where,
My chirpy-self got away,
I've since searched high and low for her,
I've missed her every single day!
I want the little 'Me' back again,
That is where this ticket is to,
I wish I could find her again one day, 
And bid this strange-self adieu!

Written for the prompt "Wishful Thinking" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.
I'm with #Team Crimson Rush!

Friday, August 5, 2016

Tiny Shoes

I look at the pair of tiny shoes,
Warm and fluffy and yellow,
And think of the times when it adorned the feet, 
Of a sweet little fellow.
These are my little one's shoes!!

I trace the tiger’s face on them, 
And feel the glow in its eyes,
It reminds me of the scare he had, 
And thereafter, his incessant cries!

I measure his tiny shoes, 
Against the palm of my hand,
And then I look at him and realise, 
How tall he now stands.

It is in these shoes that he learnt to walk,
After falling a hundred times,
In them, he learnt to kick the ball,
And dance to melodious rhymes. 

He’d wear these shoes, play music, 
And do a cute little jig,
But time has run so quickly away, 
And my baby’s grown so big.

No matter how large his shoes become, 
No matter they take him wherever,
I know I’ll love him and hold him close,
In my heart forever.


Written for the prompt "Tiny Shoes" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.
I'm with #Team Crimson Rush!

Thursday, August 4, 2016

Caught Red-handed..

Maya sifted through the contents of the drawer, muttering something under her breath.

‘We are getting late. Hurry up, Maya. You know how bad the traffic is.’

‘Two minutes, Ravi, I can’t find my pink lipstick,’ she said now shuffling through her purse.

‘C’mon, put on something else.’

‘It’s strange Ravi, but in the past couple of months a lot of my things have been disappearing – lipsticks, earrings, even some clothes.’

‘Who can steal these things? You must have misplaced them somewhere,’ he said picking up the car keys and heading out. ‘In the car, 5 minutes, be quick.’

‘Ravi, could it be Nakku? I mean, who else is there in the house?’

 ‘’You must be out of your mind, Nakku Bai is 70 yrs old, and she’s been a trusted servant of this house for the past 3 generations. My mom never had a complaint against her. And have you ever seen her put on lipstick? She wouldn’t even fit into your clothes. C’mon hurry up now, can’t we do this later?’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll think about it in the evening. Let’s go.’

Ravi was about to start his car, when she stopped him. ‘Hey, wait, Kiran’s college fees are due today, I’ll quickly go and give him the cheque.’

Ravi made a face. ‘Quick.’

She nodded and ran into the house. ‘Nakku Maushi,’ she called out, ‘Has Kiran left for college?’

‘He was sitting here watching TV,’ said Nakku. 'I think I saw him go to his room after you went out.'

This boy, she thought, he can sit all day watch TV but not remember to collect the cheque for his fees. When will he grow up? 

Maya hurriedly wrote a cheque and scampered to Kiran’s room. Kiran was not in the room. Maya sighed. Let me ask Nakku to give this to him, she thought. Just as she turned to leave, she heard the creak of the door.

Emerging from the closet believing his parents to have left for work, was Kiran, the pink lipstick on his lips, and her blue earrings dangling from his ear. 


Written for the prompt "Caught Red-handed" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.
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