That wall against which I rest my tired head The last step sitting on which I stare blankly ahead I see my dog curled for hours in his happy spot From where he barks at neighbours no matter what The soothing hum of gently falling rain Sleepy at midnights I hear it time and again All around is wild green grass I never did mow I’ll throw away those sunflower seeds I never could sow The kitchen was forever mine…
I am amazed at how many people I know who have gone on to study more than me. A Masters degree is something I never contemplated. Often people have asked me if I plan to study more. “Oh no! Am done with all the studying I could possibly want to ever do”, is my weary reaction. It’s been my reaction for many years now. The irony of life is how our responses change if you allow yourself to notice it.…
This Uber driver counselled me today on the importance of having children. With a rather disconcerting directness, he asked me whether I was married. Then went on to inquire if I had kids, planned to have kids and then explained, “Continuity of life. That’s what I tell my daughter too.” I didn’t need to know why he assumed I would have a similar outlook, as his family, to starting a family. He knew me, just as so many of my…
I have always dreaded day 2 or 3 of having house guests. I have already served them paneer or chole (substitute chicken curry if you are a non-vegetarian host), we have gone out to an expensive popular restaurant in town and we have approached what I fondly call the “home cooked food craving” day. These guests say things like, “My stomach is full” or “am feeling heavy” or “let’s have something simple“. Years of conditioning as a conscientious host doesn’t allow…
This old wizened witch sat by the window Her black pointy hat had a wide gaping hole She was busy with her spell to steal a perfect rainbow. A croaking toad disturbed her evil reverie She squashed the busy spider with the tiny insect he stole. A bat came falling right through the chimney With soot all over the witch did look terribly funny. Into the cauldron went a fat rat’s tail, The clove of garlic was nice and horribly stale. A…
Call me old fashioned, but I have always liked love stories to have a tantalizingly slow build up. From irrational distaste to ardent admiration, in inimitable Pride and Prejudice style. Or maybe, have the hero and heroine running for their life with no time for love; but end up making a vow for life? That is what makes my heartbeat race. With Romeo Juliet, apart from the fundamental problem of them dying, the fact that they fall in love, confess and…
Tired and worn Tattered and torn Swept along hapless with the winds Left alone, faded and forlorn. Wailing and weeping Sobbing and screaming Inconsequential in the grand scheme of things Damp eyes with tears streaming. Depressed and driven insane Tortured and in pain Invisible to all that good fate brings Left alone fighting in vain. Hopeless and unheeded Ignored and defeated A lone cry in the discordant dissonant string With all happiness depleted. Ever had a day when you just can’t get…
Blame it on Sooraj Barjatya. Those loud hyper happy families with beautiful decked grand halls, curving stairways, women with stone jewellery, intricate ornate lehengas and all that food! I was a Bihari (or half since my mother is a Bengali), but I longed to be a Marwari. The food was a big part of this yearning. In the movies, the heroine or mother would make gajar ka halwa (carrot dessert). But, there are so many more food options. My Marwari neighbours would call…
“Elves,” concluded Lazywiz. A man and a woman were crossing the street. They were both dressed in black overcoats, a few sizes too big. Sharp features and a frenetic energy in their movement. Both had black hair with a lock of blue; a startling shade of indigo. She had a sleek ponytail and he carried off a rather long flop of hair. It was as if their human disguise had gone wrong. Harry Potter meets Lord of the Rings. On the radio,…
I had heard these words as the title of a song on a radio channel, on Father’s day, 2 years ago. The words have stayed with me. Apparently, Sunday is Father’s Day. I tried to remember, but I don’t think I have ever wished my father on this day. I usually end up wishing him a day late on his birthday too. He isn’t the kind to mind it or even expect it. Perhaps, that is why even I don’t…