Woman anywhere…

I could have sworn

that a tear had run down

I knew she was strong

but how long could she

hold on?

A mother of two

a boy & a girl

a wife so devoted

a woman who cared.

Now,she remains all


her womb is empty

so is her heart & soul.

For is there any life left

for a widow or a mother

who loses her kids

to death?

But she is strong,

she held on…

Answer me, God!

One incident took away almost everything from my world. Aayush, my younger son was only 4 months old then; I could have never heard the word “mamma” from him  neither would I knew how well my elder son, Aryan could sing or how handsome he looks in his all white cricketing attire. It all happened little more than a year back but it is still so vivid in my mind as if it happened just a week before. I am writing this on the eve of my birthday, thanks to the saviour for he gave me an opportunity to celebrate my birthday this year with my family.

We met with a  road accident when we were coming back from Pondicherry to Chennai after spending a superb holiday. Our red car, as Aryan recalls, “Papa’s red car fell and broke into pieces so papa bought a big black car.” Our car was rammed by a xylo from behind and the world became darkness to me.

When I was back to my senses, a month had passed and I was still in the hospital with a severe head injury. The worst thing that happened during this accident was that I suffered from retrograde amnesia and lost my last one-year memory. Due to that, I even forgot my younger son, since he was only 4 months then. Still, I keep on urging everyone individually, not to disclose this to him when he grows up. He will be very hurt when he will know his mother did not remember him. Many more things happened in that one-month period when I was in the hospital, but I was simply clueless.

Finally, one day I was released from the hospital, still on a prescription to continue my high dose medicines for an indefinite time. One day I was just lying in my bed, and found my aunt’s digital camera. She came down from Kolkata during those wretched days to help us. I took the camera and started browsing the pics in it. I saw the first pic, and then the second and then as I pressed the next button, the third pic came up. I stared at the picture blankly. It was Aayush’s pic, with one of his leg wrapped with a white plaster. I immediately ran to my hubby to enquire further. He didn’t hide a bit and told me Aayush fractured his leg during the accident. If that was not all, the fracture got detected after a couple of days when the leg started to swell. Poor Aayush underwent a massive pain for those two days.  In addition, my elder son, Aryan who was only 3 and half years then, broke his left collarbone and was in trauma since he was the only one who saw the whole thing. I became numb and only my tears, which do not follow any rules, continued to roll down my cheek. He also said that every night both the kids kept on crying. The younger one tried to pronounce “mamma” and kept on crying and the elder one, kept on asking everyone when his mother will come back to him.

For better care, my hubby sent me to my mothers place to Kolkata after a few days post my return from the hospital. During that stay, I would ask my mother about all that happened when I was not in my senses. She would always start her narration with Anirban, my hubby, how he took care of me. He was badly injured too in the accident, 21 stitches in his head and with a broken shoulder, still he spent all the nights in the hospital sitting next to me. His routine was somewhat like this; he joined his office few days after the accident – he would go to his office in the morning, return by 5 pm, then feed and make Aryan sleep (He was not allowing anyone to feed him and making him sleep).  After Aryan slept, hubby would have his dinner and go to the hospital with my dinner. He would feed me and then used to sit the whole night awake next to my bed and the next day morning again the routine continued…. I always love my hubby a lot but after hearing all this from my mother, that love increased manifolds and the respect I had for him increased too. He too was badly injured and required proper rest after the accident, but due to his commitments then he did not get any rest and now he is suffering from the side effects. 6 months after the accident, he started getting tremendous back pain, for which he still have sleepless nights. After a check up from the doctor, we came to know during the accident, he badly hurt his back, if he would have taken proper rest then after the accident, now he would not suffer from the side affects. I am very lucky to have him as my best half; he showed me what life is and where happiness lies.

I had no clue what my parents went through as i am their only daughter. Few months back when I was visiting  my aunt, the topic reappeared. She disclosed that my mother kept fasting because I could not eat properly when I was in the hospital. She used to tell, “I will leave my fasting only when my daughter starts eating normal diet.” ‘Hat’s off to you maa, you have shown me what mothers are for and thanks baba for your support.I know you too went through a lot of pain !”

A year flew by but the stigma of the incidence is still crystal-clear in my mind. Very frequently, I get the memories flushing my mind and I always ask with moist eyes – ‘why it was me and my family, who had to experience such a horrible fate.’ This is the only question that I have for Him, the power known as God!

Housewife are Nation builders

On this international woman’s day I would request all men and women to pledge that the housewife be given the status of Nation builders. Please let not the census group housewives in “economically non-productive” category with prostitutes, beggars and prisoners. It is an insult to the community by referring them as non-productive community. If a mother is able to give just one conscientiously sensible son or daughter to the nation a major part of the problems are resolved. I am sure there will be innumerable numbers of great sensible sons and daughters who would agree with me and help housewife the required sensible respect and status in the society.

I have an accomplished background with great respectable achievements but just for the sake of my children I have given up my profession. Rather than giving excuses everyday in office for the sake of my family and children I would prefer to stay home to imbibe the culture and tradition I have acquired from my mother. I would dedicate my life to all those high achieving women who preferred to be an housewife and work only during their leisure by exploiting their inherent talents. I have no other way to reach the community for support rather than to sit at home and start his blog.


Mother -Nature

Oasis of love in them we find,
Ocean of differences is all she binds.
Through her every chide and simple gestures,
in all, love slowly nurtures.
An eye for beauty she gives,
A heart for the ailing is all she asks.
She caresses our feet, in dark.
One mother and nature that we have failed…..
while she endures us all….
If for her we call it duty,
isn’t it ours, to care her beauty?
saplings grow and leave….
she stays along, still more to give.
An inspiration, against the odd she survives,
while we have got on in our lives!

A mirror that reflects the past,
for chide and actions we blame,
while we forget, it is God we tried to tame.

a feeling that we failed to express……

While we run in the race of life,
it is to her we look upon in strife!

all enduring, ever embracing figure,
she ever stands…a forgotten mirror…..

to Her i bow……
in your waters I play….
in your winds i relax….
in your fire i burn ego..
to your soil i bend……
to the sky i go back…..

this for every mother, who has stood through every phase of their kids….
through every hardship of her family….who thought of her family before herself….
and yet ever remained in her poise and never changed…….

just like our nature…..
the winds which have never changed their courses since time the earth was born….
the waters which have always remained the same irrespective of where they went and came….
the fire which which burns everything…taking her kids in her own humble ways….
the sky which always looks upon us as an ever guarding guardian!!!

The Green Saree with Golden Border

She always loved wearing sarees. Saree was as though her exclusive domain- her genre; her identity she never wanted to part ways with.

Nowadays we generally see that the ladylove for sarees is kind of diminishing. It’s only for some grand occasions, that grand sarees get worn. And it’s only for some special occasions, that special sarees are worn. The rest of the time, it’s a Salwar Suit which comes in handy.

But she belongs to the former breed of saree lovers- the saree brigade so to say. And she is completely in awe of her own sarees. Sarees, which are gifted to her by friends, or by her dear husband, or which have got passed onto her from her late mother-in-law. So, needless to say, that her saree collection is mammoth. All the shades and all the materials find a loving space in her huge closet. Someone even teases her that her sarees have been with her since age eternity! She has that tendency to carefully stack up all of those. She hardly remembers any time when she had given away any of her most pricey or precious sarees to anybody. In that sense, she was dead possessive about her saree belongings.

This is not all. Her memory is so sharp- Ask her to open her wardrobe and talk about each saree- who gave it to her, or from where and when she purchased it, she’d give a complete record of every single saree—from where it was bought, or who had gifted it to her, and on what occasion. In fact, to go a step further in her saree obsession story, she’ll even have a complete account of which saree was worn by her on which special occasion! Any layman or laywoman would get totally awestruck by this, but then with her, it’s a fact.  She even remembers this. Hearing the capabilities of her awesome memory, I feel bad, as to why my memory doesn’t oblige.

Anyways, so going back to her saree story, it goes like this. So this lady was a complete saree freak. So, one day, this lady was sitting with her wardrobe open. She was cleaning up something, or so I was told. To this I reacted kind of skeptically. When a lady doesn’t even bother to give away her old sarees, and make way for new ones, what kind of cleaning must she be doing, I quietly wonder!

So as she was in the middle of cleaning her closet, she had laid down one by one, all her sarees. Her daughter was sitting right next to her. And her granddaughter (daughter’s daughter) was playing outside in the living room. She had come to visit granny for her summer vacations.

Just as this lady finished emptying her cupboard with hangers full of sarees, her six and a half year old granddaughter barged in to tell her mommy something. And what she saw in front of her eyes was like a treat to her. A kaleidoscopic spectrum of beautiful designs and shades unfolded before her! She almost forgot what she wanted to tell mom. And she rushed near granny’s treasured closet, peeping in, as to what more was in store! Then as she saw a treat already been laid out on the bed, she didn’t lose a minute to make way for herself, and perched up on the stool nearby. She looked and looked, with her little joyous eyes twinkling endlessly. She smiled at her mom, as if asking her, whether nani might be kind of interested to share one of her sarees with her.

But the fantastically diplomacy struck kids that today’s kids brains are wired; the little girl didn’t say a word to her mom directly.

But at the same time she had as if almost zeroed in on one saree in her mind, which she had liked of the entire heap, laid out there. It was a green saree with golden border, with delicate brocade work done atop, which she had already chosen for herself!  Gently she moved her fingers over that saree, and remarked in a diplomatic voice (children these days need not be taught diplomacy. It’s almost inborn!) “ Mummy, nani has such a fabulous collection of pretty sarees. Even you don’t have such an extraordinary collection, na?

And then, miracle happened. Our lady (nani) asked her “You like this saree, don’t you? Then you can keep it for yourself”.

The chirpy little girl reacted abruptly, “nani, can I make a salwar Kurta from your saree?”. To which, nani replied “Why not? Just go ahead and make whatever you want to make out of it; but be sure to use it and use it carefully”.

And so, very willingly and lovingly our lady who had so far not even been generous to her own daughters as far as distributing her sarees was concerned, in one instant, she showered her generosity on her granddaughter, and gifted her the green saree with golden border. When the kid asked how old that saree was, granny couldn’t stop blushing as she replied that it was the saree nanaji had gifted to her on her 47th birthday.

The following Diwali, when nani visited their house, the chirpy grand daughter was all decked up, looking pretty as ever, in a beautiful salwar Kurta, which was green colored with golden border. Nani was smiling end to end seeing her granddaughter carrying herself so well in that wonderful attire.

And then, as soon as she headed back home post Diwali, one day, she opened her closet and began a mop-up! – in true sense of the word. This time she was serious in her clean up act. There were many who’d line up and readily accept a precious saree as a gift from her! There were her own daughters, her sister, her nieces….the list was endless. And so, possessiveness gave way to generosity—all thanks to her granddaughter, and to the Green Saree with Golden Border.

Unshed Tears

Anu looked very tired when she returned from school. She threw herself on the bed. I just peeped into the room and asked, “What’s wrong, Anu?”
“Will you please leave me alone?” she shouted.
“The coffee and snacks are getting cold.” I said as calm as I could.
“Don’t I have any freedom in the house? Will you please leave the room?” She banged the door when I stepped out.
My parents were watching from the other room as if I had done something wrong.
These outbursts are common but still I felt bad. Why can’t she confide in me? I always tried to be her friend. It can be one of her friends who hurt her.
The front door opened and her father stepped in. I went with a smile towards him, but he ignored. He took the newspaper and made himself comfortable on the easy chair. Silently I moved to the kitchen and brought the hot cup of coffee and snacks to him. He pushed the plate aside and asked. “Can’t you make something else?”
“Isn’t this your favourite snack?” I asked. Got no answer and I was about to turn when the son stormed in, not caring to remove the muddy shoes. He snatched the plate from my hands and entered his room.
“What have you done with my room, Ma? You messed up everything. I can’t find my things.” I spent the major part of the day tidying up his room.. He entered the kitchen collected all consumable things and closed his door with a bang.
They are stressed. They are frustrated. They have friends who hurt, boss who boss around, work pressure, studies. So they come home and release their pressure. They need something alive but not reacting to get out of that pressure and feel the relief. That’s me. But who am I? What am I ?

After an hour or so the scene changes, husband gives an ‘I’m sorry” nod, children hug me. They share that day’s jokes with grandparents, watch TV.
Today I felt very tired, drained of all energy. I’m not expected to hold any grudge, I cannot have any frustration, no worries….What am I made up of? Heart heavy, with unshed tears I moved to my silent abode, my kitchen…..

The waiting….

Whenever I look out, I see her at the window. A sad and tired face with a glow of hope in her eyes. It is only those eyes which show life in her. Her eyes are fixed at the far end of the road from where anyone who comes to her house can be spotted. She has been waiting since a few months. Her son had left home and never returned. They tried all possible ways to trace him but all in vain.

There was no clue where he could be. He never gave any hint that he would be running away. There was no visible reason for that. There is no explanation to a person suddenly vanishing. He was old enough to send a message. Everyone lost hopes and started forgetting. They knew there was no use searching for him .

Mother was the only silent sufferer. She never lose hopes. Until she gets any information she will live with hopes of her son coming back. She stands there silent like a statue with her eyes fixed on the street. She might be wondering where she went wrong, why her dear son failed to confide in her whatever it was worrying him.

She still waits there, so that she could open the door for him, embrace and welcome him back. Even death of a dear one is not so torturing as this. Death is an end. Anyone would have to accept it however unbearable it is. But this waiting is the most excruciating, never ending pain.. I wish the mother would not have to wait longer for his return….

Somebody’s mother

Somebody’s mother! The poem by Mary Dow Brine brought tears to my eyes. A poor and old lady is standing on the roadside waiting to cross the road. Lost in the heavy traffic, she stands helplessly waiting for some supporting hand. “She stood at the crossing and waited long / Alone, uncared for, amid the throng / Of human beings who passed her by, / Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye” At this moment, glad of the freedom of ‘school let out’, hordes of merry children were passing by. One of them stopped, came to the old lady, helped her cross the road and went back to his friends. “Then back again to his friends he went, / His young heart happy and well content. / “She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know, / For all she’s aged and poor and slow; / And I hope some fellow will lend a hand / To help my mother, you understand, / If ever she’s poor and old and gray, / When her own dear boy is far away.” The old lady also prays at night, “God be kind to the noble boy /Who is somebody’s son and pride and joy.” If Somebody’s mother is always helped by somebody’s son then everybody’s mother and son will be happy. But it is not to be so. It is always a rare occurrence. I remember of one similar story. A lonely widow is waiting in her hut for her son’s return home. Instead, she receives the ghastly news of her son being shot dead by someone. Suddenly a youth enters her hut and asks her to hide him from the police. He tells her that unable to control his anger, he has shot someone dead and police are now after him. She hides him till the police lose the trail of the murderer. When asked as to why she gave shelter to her son’s murderer, she says that he is somebody’s son and she knows the grief of losing son. It is always a noble gesture – somebody’s son helping somebody’s mother and somebody’s mother helping somebody’s son. In India instances of mothers helping somebody’s son can be found in plenty. Rather, the concept of universal motherhood has made occurrence of such instances a common phenomenon in our country. The Sanghjanani of Ramakrishna Mission is Ma Sarada, the holy consort of Shri Ramakrishna Paramhansa. Because of their unusual relationship, which was completely on a spiritual plane, Ma Sarada’s mother once asked Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa that would not her daughter be a mother ever? Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa replied that she will be surrounded by such a large number of children calling her mother that she will have no time for anything else. And in reality also many children came to her and she also accepted each one of them and blessed them in their quest for realisation. Many of the children would behave irresponsibly, commit mistakes but she always forgave them and put them on the right path. She was not only somebody’s mother, she was everybody’s mother, so much so that her motherhood crossed the boundaries of religion. Once a poor non-Hindu rickshawpuller went to a house to give back the luggage forgotten by the traveller. As he entered the house, he exclaimed, “How do you have my mother’s photo in your house?” He was told that it was the photograph of Ma Sarada. Everybody was amazed. That poor man saw his mother in Ma Sarada’s photograph. A few days back, I had been to Delhi for some work. I was staying with some friends. We went out for shopping. There was one auntie in our group. As we were walking side by side I felt that Auntie’s feet were faltering. Instinctively I held her hand. She also gripped my hand and we walked together. Her grip on my hand made me remember how my mother used to hold my hand. My mother left this world two years back. Before that, my ill mother would walk on her unsteady steps and grip my hand for support. I remembered all this that day when I held auntie’s hand. What if she was not my mother? She was somebody’s mother!

Did I spoil you!

I met you

We fell for each other

I thought of spoiling you

then I started spoiling you

as a mother would spoil

her child

as an elder brother

would spoil his

younger Sibling

my persistent efforts

to spoil you day in

and day out

continued ceaselessly

and now I have find

that I have spoiled

you completely.


‘Mera Bapu Mahan’, the phrase came to my mind when I read an essay e mailed to by my friend. The essay was on the topic – ‘Bap’ i.e. father. Calling your father Bap is not at all a courteous action, but then how even without being courteous one can still reach to the core of the father’s existence, the essay ‘Bap’ is an excellent example.
The grievance of the writer is that while everyone talks about a mother’s affection, writers use sheets and sheets of paper to praise mother’s love, affection and sacrifice, for describing nature of God simile of mother is used, the father is ignored by all. The writer describes how a father is pillar of strength for the household, how he provides for all the necessities of the family, how he neglects himself in the process and how his mere existence is the security for the family.
While reading this essay I could not help but think about my father and all other father’s that I have come in contact with. We sometimes affectionately call our father Bapu. He used to call his father by this name and we picked it from him and sometimes instead of baba we call him Bapu. Well, this Bapu shares some of the characteristics of another Bapu – the great BAPU, the father of the nation – the Bapu of the nation. Forgiveness, being one of the foremost ones. People cheated on him, harassed him, made every possible effort to crush his self respect just because he refused to give up his morals and principles and fall in line with the corrupt ones. He forgave all of them.
When his adversaries tried to take revenge on him through his students, he backed out. Victory at cost of his student’s career was not acceptable to him. In the process he ruined his career. When I accused him of cowardice and professional suicide, he said, “Maybe, I am a coward. But if my cowardice is going to help my children then even if professionally I am finished, it is acceptable to me.” Till date he remains a recluse, but a contented one. He has no regrets.
Many fathers make sacrifices for their children. But this father made a sacrifice for those children who were not his children by birth. And I am proud of my Bapu. Mera Bapu Mahan!

The Mother

Thanks to  The God

The Great God,

The Kind God,

Who gave all of us,

every one on this earth,

a Mother,

beautiful  & lovable mother

the only mother,

who showed us this colorful

and beautiful earth

by giving birth

on this earth.

The Mother

Who loves us,

her children

by heart

Who irrigate our life

to survive

on this earth the beautiful earth.

The deep blue sea!

Water water everywhere…not a drop to drink. No one realized it more aptly than Vicky, a merchant sailor, sailing for six months continuously. Although that was his first voyage, yet he felt as if he was aboard for ages. That afternoon during his scheduled break, he decided to browse the net. It was his only way to stay in touch with his friends and relatives, back on land.

He logged onto Facebook, a social networking website and found quite a few friend requests were pending. He lazily started to approve and reject the same until the last name, which left him enthralled. The request was from Jessica. Even before adding her to his list, he quickly clicked on Jessica’s friend list to search if “she” was present there or not! The list contained 330 names and he went through each profile and pic, making sure in case “she” was using some nick name. After about 15 min of research he succeeded. He was spellbound, thinking, was she the same cute sweet girl he knew a year back? He couldn’t believe his eyes, the girl he knew was now a lady…as beautiful as always but the childish outlook has been encapsulated into a more matured cocoon.

He immediately checked her profile and as the life size of the profile pic flashed on the screen, his eyes froze. He looked straight into the eyes of the lady in the photo. Those eyes always made him crave for her; her smile made him always think that she was the sunshine of his life! All that was still the same but it was all meant for Rishav, the one Ria was married to. Instantly he felt that it was Rishav, for whom she left him alone amidst all blues!

He clicked on all the pics in her album, one by one and couldn’t stop envying Rishav for having such a beautiful wife like Ria. There were almost 50 pics, taken at different locations, all over the world and she looked gorgeous in all of them. He couldn’t control his eyes when a pic from Switzerland occupied the screen. Ria was posing alone amidst the snow and by her expression anyone could say how happy she was. Her smile made him nostalgic yet again and he could not stop the overflow of memories from the past.

Those days, he felt, were the most lovely, happening and memorable days of his life. He first saw Ria in a western dance class, which they both attended. Ria was a prolific dancer but Vicky was nothing lesser. They soon got into a pair for some of the songs. Their dance school was competing in a national level competition. Along with others both of them too represented their institute and truly speaking they made the best dancing couple amongst all the available pairs. During that period Vicky was captivated by her charm. Ria was very extrovert in nature, fun loving, good looking, out going and ofcourse not to forget good at heart. Vicky, on the other hand, could be attributed through three suitable adjectives only … smart, handsome, and genuine! As days went, Vicky’s love for her increased and by the time their programme ended he was madly  in love with this girl. The chemistry showed on stage and as a result their dance school won the second prize in the competition. It was celebration time and members from the dance class planned for a picnic.

Suddenly Vicky was back in the present and found it was time to go back to work! He needed to rush and quickly sent a friend request to Ria simply driven by reflex before moving out of the internet room.

After his scheduled duty hours, when evening was setting in, he went to the deck and stood there alone looking at the deep blue sea. It seemed as if his sorrows were submerged into the depth of the ocean. Even before he could realize, memories of Ria, flooded into his mind.

He couldn’t ever forgot the picnic congregation. It was indeed his first step towards the deep emotion that he developed for Ria. Vicky’s mom came to the dance class before they left for the picnic to give them some pakoras and paranthas to be consumed during the couple of hour’s journey. It was the first time he introduced Ria to his mom, whom he loved the most in the whole world.

Picnic was quite good too as Ria declared Vicky to be her best friend in front of all and the declaration did not please a few, needless to mention that Vicky had few competitors in his class as quite a few guys were trying their luck on the most happening gal in their group. After he was back from picnic, Vicky couldn’t stop himself from asking his mom, whether she liked Ria or not. Vicky’s mom said , “Ria is a sweet girl, but tell me something truly, Vicky… you like her, don’t you?”… Vicky was stumped but since he never lied to his mom, he said shakily “Mom, I don’t like her, but I love her”…and his mom smiled back and said “you are my son Vicky, I know what you are feeling, I too liked her, and I think you couldn’t express your feelings to her.”. He gave his mom a sheepish smile, while his mom said, “Go boy, go and propose her!”

He suddenly felt his eyes were getting clammy! This time not for Ria, but for his mom. He could feel the sea breeze brushing his face; he felt cold as he missed the warmth of his mom’s affection; he was missing his mom like hell. Six months were elapsed and he did not see her, he did not taste the delicious food she makes for him. He instantly walked away from the deck and went into the radio-room of the ship. He dialed the number … his mom picked up “hello”… Vicky tried to hide his tears and tried to speak normally… he cleared his throat and said, “Hey mom, how are you? I don’t know why but I am missing you maa!” As he uttered the last words, tears rolled down his cheeks. His mom could feel from the other end of the line that her son Vicky was very sad, she knew what pain her son went through in the last one year, her eyes instantly became moist too. She said, “Son, don’t get upset, you were my brave boy. Why are you crying? My son is in merchant navy, within couple of years, you will be the captain of the ship, and you made us proud. Distance doesn’t matter, my blessings are always with you” Vicky felt a load off his heart and said, “love you mom” and disconnected the call.

Next day during his duty hours he couldn’t stop contemplating, whether Ria had accepted his friend request or not? As soon, his schedule was over, he almost ran to the internet room, logged in and to his surprise, he saw that Ria had not only accepted his request but actually even scrapped him saying a little hi! He felt very happy from inside, almost felt like singing and dancing as if he had solved one of the unsolved mysteries of the world. He scrapped her back asking about her whereabouts and other routine stuff. As days went by, quite frequently they started scrapping each other and Vicky during his off hours either used to stay online in anticipation that Ria too would be there or he stood in the deck looking towards the deep blue sea and thought of the wonderful days they spent together.

He would stand there for hours looking at the blue sea searching for Ria’s reflections in the water. He felt the magnitude of void every time whenever he thought of her. He thought of the jokes they shared and which left both of them guffawing till the tears were out. He thought how easily she became friendly to his close ones and how everyone appreciated him for having a friend like Ria. They loved to drink the same masala chai and every time they went to a local mall, they wouldn’t miss an opportunity of have it together. How they both went for shopping and every time it was Ria who picked up the perfect shirts for him. He missed the way she use to hug him, saying he was her best friend and he missed the way she would come well dressed and would nod at him as if to ask how she was looking. It was always thumbs up from his end which made Ria smile, for which Vicky would die for. The reflections of Ria in the deep blue sea made him crave for her even more.

Two more months elapsed and although their conversation never went beyond formal scraps but something from within  made him happy. The deep blue sea became his best friend sharing the memories of his past and present. One day when he stood on the deck, there were dark clouds, he somehow saw a silver lining in that darkness too, which otherwise gave him a feeling of being engulfed by it. Deep inside he had already created a world of their own, hoping someday Ria would come back to him. Suddenly it started to drizzle, Vicky looked at the sea, it looked mesmerizingly beautiful, it seemed to be without any boundaries, it was similar to the non stop memories that he had of her. He did not bother to take a shelter and sweet memories of Ria started to pour down on him.

Around a year and half year back, one day both of them after their dance class went for shopping. They were walking side by side when suddenly it started to drizzle, they both didn’t bother to take shelter and enjoyed the first downpour of the monsoon. Both kept walking hand in hand, laughing, singing, and bopping. Vicky could not ignore Ria’s beauty, her wet hair and she was looking like the goddess of love. He tried hard to control his emotions but something in him was insisting, “hey boy…propose your girl… She will be all yours”.

He told Ria that he had to take some good CDs for his mom and they both headed towards Planet M, a leading music store located nearby. After entering the shop Ria went to the other end searching for some DVDs for herself. After a while, suddenly she heard Vicky was calling her by her name. She tried finding him through the CD racks but it was all in vain. When finally she located Vicky, she saw he was listening to something with a headphone plugged to his ears. Vicky offered her the other headphone, to listen to the song that he was listening to. Ria put it on and found it was playing the lovely track, “Nothing gonna change my love for you!”. They both enjoyed the song till the end and finally when Ria was removing her headphone, Vicky said, “Hey gal, its dedicated to you, I never thought this will ever happen to me, but I love you baby, I want to marry you!”

Ria didn’t knew how to react, tears appeared in her eyes, and soon it was rolling down the cheek. She tried to be normal and somehow said, “Hey we are best friends, I never thought you would do this! I thought at least you would be different from others! All men think alike!” She rushed out of the shop, Vicky ran behind her to explain, but she was too stubborn, too angry! She left for home, leaving him alone. Vicky tried to contact her, but she didn’t respond and within 6 months Vicky heard from Jessica, their common friend that she was married. It left Vicky’s world shattered into pieces.

He felt cold, it was still drizzling, he was totally wet by then; he came inside, went into his cabin. Next day he went to the internet room, logged in to check if there was any more scraps from Ria. He got lucky, Ria was online. They chatted for almost an hour about each other’s new lives and then suddenly Ria logged off saying she had to cook dinner for her husband! The last word tore his small world of hope into pieces and he felt Ria was very happy with her hubby, in her new world! To his surprise, he started feeling the same pain he felt two months back, before he restored contacts with Ria. He didn’t knew what to do, where to go for an explanation. He thought, the deep blue sea, his best friend, would definitely give him some solutions! He ran on to the deck, looked at the sea and started searching for Ria’s reflections, but to his surprise there were none! He stood there still, looking at the sea and as if the rumbling of the sea gave him the answer. He knew it always was only friendship from Ria’s end! It was a mirage that he was running behind and that had made his life miserable. It brought back the world of pain, sorrow, and tears!

He immediately knew what he had to do. He rushed back to the internet room, logged into facebook, went to his friend list and opened Ria’s profile. He smiled at her profile pic for one last time and then deleted her profile from his list. Suddenly he felt happy, he felt light, he thought there would be no more anchoring but just moving on like his best friend …the deep blue sea!

“Oh, Mother”

Oh, Mother you are more than a wealth,

You are always my guide.

Mother you are my light

In the path of my life.

Mother even though you suffer

Never had you hesitated

Your purpose for me

To be happy and glee.

Mother you are the brightest star

That illuminates success and hope.

Your advises are gold

That even the wealth of this world

Can never surpass your mold!

Mother you are my song

That heals the music of my sorrow,

The pain that utters in my soul

Your humming voice of loving words

Deeply swathes my breaking whole.

Mother you are faith

That helps me carry my burden

When everything is heavy and pour its weight.

Everything is light when your bountiful love is around.

Mother you are my trail!

Though it is hazy and gray

I can never lose my way

Because your everlasting path of love guides me day by day!

To all who have mother still,

Obey and reverently respect her.

Because never we can equate

The love and care that she brings.



OR                                       IMPORTANCE OF BEING A WOMAN

Behind every man there is a woman. Great men are made by their mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters.

Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler, Mahatma Gandhi, Subhash Chandra Bose, Jawaharlal Nehru, all had women who managed their affairs. The great men- Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Alexander, etc. – were driven by women. The woman has one great quality about her. She is, in a way, very contented with small things. She has a natural capacity to create children. She is a creator naturally. Her desire for creativity is fulfilled biologically.

Man cannot produce children. Only woman can. Therefore, she is more important than man. She has something to contribute to the world. She adds to the beauty of the world its power, its art and its music. She is indeed the conqueror of man both husband and son.

When a man falls in love, with a woman, he becomes important. He starts earning money. He wants to become a business executive, a commander, a minister, or a president. He feels his importance and becomes a responsible person in life, because he has to support a wife and children.

Woman has a balanced biology. Her chemistry is equally balanced. World is dominated by men because women is not interested in dominating men. Shakespeare has called her a paragon of all virtues. She possesses everybody. She is not possessed by anybody. Beauty and love are her greatest weapon of conquest. She rules with love. Her beauty is her wealth. “My face is my fortune”, rightly said a lady.

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To Cherish Hope

Was my cry of loneliness,

To Cherish Hope was the moment

When my tears had to heavily fall.

Melancholy and deep sorrow ‘til now befall.

To Cherish Hope was my grieving heart

And to say, “Goodbye to my sister


Slashed through the throbbing part of my soul!

To Cherish Hope had always been

My mother’s faithful prayer,

To grant her a baby girl was the constant beseech

To our heavenly Almighty Father.

On the 2nd day of September

Marked the moment to Cherish our Hope!

When Cherish Hope was born

Out of my mother’s faith and hope!

To Cherish Hope had all my mother’s care,

Bringing her a sweet day, a gift of happiness all day!

Just enough to surmount emptiness and care

Just a wonderful smile of her only loving daughter

Troubles in her heart flew away!

Everything was for Cherish Hope,

Each day was her new day that she often coped!

To Cherish Hope’s smiles and laughter ceased by time,

A time to leave her life and gave it back to our Father’s hand.

Such a deep weeping my Mother had to shed!

In her lonely heart she had to hurtfully admit,

That her prayer-granted gift who is my sister,

In a short span of time, Cherish Hope was laid to rest!

On the mourning day of January 28,

You had to breathe your last,

Never you escaped from death,

Our heavy hearts begin to blast!

We could never see you again.

Your heartwarming presence shall never be felt again.

Yet, we cherish the hope to meet you once more!

We cherish the hope of embracing you ever more!

We cherish the hope of longing to behold your smile!

To our Father’s land, ……. In heaven!

Soon that momentous day shall ever come!

Serpents of Corruption

Worthy of love, unbreakable togetherness, and lasting compassion would have been instilled strongly in the vessel of thirsting heart and unstable mind of a child.

But, why soup of hatred, a platter of pale love and a bowl of spoiled unloving thoughts are laid in the niche of the child’s sprouting character?

Family ties were untied by a father who neglected his pure actions and encouraging words and translated into unspoken greediness and unnoticed carelessness of expressed thoughts that form the growing character of his son.

The family bonding is disbanded by a mother who works in the scope of her comfort where eyes and mouth are only the weapons of her love and care for her curious daughter and for her wandering son.

A father who offers a well of gold and silver, a mother who clothes sparkling dress of worldly wealth to her offspring!

Their children have worn ever the brightest smile but not for a while,

The pleasures of their tongue were satisfied but not their hearts.

Corruption begins at home.

It creeps to the nerves of the heart of your son.

It envelops the innocent soul of your daughter.

For every dishonest  word that is pronounced by the indifferent father,

For every unchecked actions that mother has imposed,

Are a sure lifetime shaper to the values and character of the children.

Family brings serpents of corruption in every corner of the home.

It blows very hard like a destructive wind of the storm.

It is like a starving lion that preys on the flesh of good virtues and leaves nothing but dead soul!

Father, Mother, May I appeal to your deepest conscience and understanding!

May you be vigilant and be watchful of your actions and your ways of life!

Your most beloved children are at stake in the breaking and making of their character!

On My Mother’s Wings

On my mother’s wings I have been flying

Beyond the quest I had in my life,

On my mother’s wings that brought me to the height of seeing

What is right and what is not.

On my mother’s wings where I tried to escape to fly on my own,

To seek the paradise where I thought I belong.

On my mother’s wings where still I often find myself home sweet home!

On my mother’s wings where I took the flight to life and met the devastating wind of misunderstanding.

She never ceased flying to ever let me see the real understanding!

Til now that I learn myself to fly,

To soar my wings high and combat the torment of life,

To fully enjoy the bumps of hampering clouds of wisdom that taught me the pain and gain of life,

Til then I still long for the comfort and hug which my mother’s wings I used to have.

On my mother’s wings I eagerly look forward

To my next flight!

I will keep the light of My guiding star from shining

I could still remember the movie “Rumors of an angel”. A movie of two different parties. Who are thirsty and hungry for LOVE.

The movie depicts the love of a mother to his long lost son due to an illness and on the other hand the love of a child to his mother who was lost due to a car accident.

Sometimes, they wanna cry out their long-kept-tears but they are scared that no one will bother to show some care. So, they decided to keep it for themselves and didn’t care even if it is too hard to bear.

When the two cross their roads, they both exchanged feelings of  emptiness and learnt to patch up the loneliness they felt into whom they have lost.

What is consoling for them is when they think of the one that gives them the strength to move on. That thing was the star that twinkles every night. Whom their strength came from.

“There is no horror in death”. This is the line in the story that I pondered upon.

Yes, those whom you have lost will still be within your reach for as long as they are in your heart.

The movie was indeed great that I came to realize the importance of my mom. It made me think deeper and evaluate my relationship with my mom. Yeah, my mom was my guiding star since I was born.

She is my armor when I am in a fight,

She is my strength when I am weak,

She is my way when I am lost,

She is my bed when I need to rest,

She is my home when I need shelter.

With these, Her efforts is a magnificent job that needs recognition and commendation.

I will always keep in my heart the LIGHT of my guiding star.

5 Million per child!!!

That is the amount it is rumored that a popular rapper is paying his singer wife to have his child. I am not sure how the couple arrived at this amount or who suggested this amount but that is the rumor.

Now many persons would scream blasphemy, blue murder and all that is unholy at such an act but is this be justifiable?. The traditional order of thought is that a woman’s purpose IN PART is to listen to her husband. In addition it is God’s order is for her to multiply and fill the earth. So now the question is,”Is she violating God and man’s law by this action.”

Now to explore the issues .This singer is one of the hottest singers on the planet and she has made a lot of money doing so. Is it wrong for the rapper whom she is married to and who is a little older to ask his young loving wife to give him children which in the contract of marriage is a right he is entitled to anyway. Is she looking at the damage to her figure when she now has to give up the sex symbol status and extremely sexy figure? Or is she looking at the damage to her image, now that she will have to trade in short mini skirt for modest maternal dresses which can accommodate her bulging belly? Or is it the loss of revenue which will come from the one year break? Or is she looking at the damage to here figure which will now have on a few pounds and a possibility of sagging breasts?

What do you think is she violating God and man by this action or is she just looking to secure her future and prevent children from leading to her downfall? Or is it their business and no one else?

Mom is the word

My first encounter with kids was when my sister had hers. Each time I came back from hostel I used to irritate them (in turn my sister) by asking silly questions like why they did not call me on my b’day, why they never sent me a diwali greeting card, why they did not invite me over for their b’day party, to why they don’t write to me…And their answer always was “mom never makes…” us write/send letter, call up etc etc..

My sister would retort citing instances when she would have nagged at them to write to me or paint a silly b’day card for me…Oh how i loved those fights between the loved ones!!

But I would turn around and ask my sis that does she not feel bad when she runs around her kids all day long and they in turn put all the blame on her. When it comes to giving any credit usually the Hero Daddy take the prime place. She would just smile….and I would wonder how she can be so great

Years passed by, from my teenage hostel days I grew up into being a mother slow and steadily. And as they say the world is round….

Today anyone asks my toddler son(who is just beginning to frame sentences) ..who spilled water on the floor or who tore the page or who left the toys all scattered on the floor his answer is ..”Mumma”. Yes the answer also applies to questions like who is cute to who loves the honey pie most…

So YES it took me few years to realize MOM is the word 🙂 that can answer all the questions in the world!!

Thank you MOM for being there for me and thank you lil one for being my world!