"The Feather under the hat" #1

The new addition. A meticulous day-wise separation of the never ending, yet inspiring thoughts (inspiring for atleast one person in the world, no guesses), produced everyday in abundance, strictly for leisure reading.

27 July 2012:

"Making up my mind, has been a waste of time.

       ...With each disappointment, I realise, I should have gone ahead with the very first thought"


Any similarity to already published work/works is purely coincidental. Any words/sentences causing hurt to any individual are completely unintended.

"Metaphorical"

You got me the bat and the ball, to play what has been my favorite game. I'd always fight with you to bat first, because I knew that you weren't interested in the game anyway. You liked my company. I would bat, you would hit the wicket before I complete the run and then... I would bat again.

That day when the ball hit the tubewell and went inside, the usual me created such a nuisance. It was my ball, and it was so important to me. You tried consoling, but does that ever work on me? I pushed the blame on you for having lost my ball, and you started feeling guilty too. It was a pleasure to see you working around making me happy, that's what you always did.

You gave in and jumped to get my ball back to me. The well was deep, the ball had disappeared in the darkness. I had promised I would hold the rope and pull you outside when you find it. You did find it soon enough and then you were climbing up as I held the rope. It took you a lot of time. You had my ball in one hand and you tried climbing up holding it in your underarms. It was difficult.

I was looking down, but the pit was dark and I couldn't see you. And then for a minute, holding the rope in my hands, I looked up where I stood. The backyard of my house, the beautiful trees and our other friends coming from a distance. The dusk, the calling of my mother from the window, and my tired hands, all were making me give up holding the rope.
I seemed to forget my old games, my old ball.
How easy was it to get distracted.

I turned around and the rope slipped a bit. It continuously slipped from my hands and the slip caused a cut on my palm. That, along with your scream from inside the well had shook me I guess. And before it was too late, I turned back around to the well and held the rope back again.

It's disappointing that you had no way to go and I had let the rope go. You would have fallen somewhere, and I would have had no way to know. Yes, the realisation wasn't automatic, it was induced, but it was destined, like all other things in the world.

Now you say you wouldn't come up because you don't trust me with the rope. But my grip is stronger. You feel I would get distracted, but I'm trying to focus now. You tell me it would be difficult to get the ball now, do I care.

I won't turn around now. We have an unfinished game to play, and you'd bat this time :)

Mid-life crisis

One of those long and dark nights, the headache had returned,

Lying on the bed, with the dim yellow lights on the side table turned on,

Staring at the intentionally muted cell phone, in search of a hope that it’ll ring,

But it doesn’t, like it didn’t all day long.

The mirror at 12 o’clock, reflecting a usually tired, morose, complicated woman,

Age making no difference, the thirties or the fifties,

The mirror image defying all left-over youth and the zest,

The shadow over the boundless walls, blocks the light, adamant on letting the darkness stay.

The endless wait was on,

Interrupted by a sweet baritone, a familiar face,

The emotions tickled, the compassion goes warm,              

And completely inadvertent, the arms widened and the horizons flourished,

Like the grays of dusk transforming into the oranges and the yellows of the dawn,

The wrinkles vanish, the maturity repealed, giving way to adolescence for a second time,

The contaminated mind miraculously recovers, from the age long illness of the unwanted seclusion,

When the hand was held strongly, and the lips were kissed, it all seemed to end and begin at the same time,

What ended was self-mortification, what began was self-worship, love unparalleled,

A two way relationship, a bond sealed by promises and togetherness,

Moving forward, leaving behind the compelling, common background of coercion and relentless criticism,

What ended was the constant waste of life, what began was its realization,

Loyalty is for dogs, she’s a human, everyday, more so a woman,

Not greedy for the flesh and the bones, but thirsty for that soulful and ample hug,

Doesn’t need a break from what she ought to do, but from the un-appreciativeness and lack of response,

What ended was the inertia of groundless custom, what began was a revolution, and denial of mute acceptance,

It’s not coming from the way she’s built, it takes birth from the thinking she does, in her mind,

Self made, only second in the physical aptitude, strong hearted and strong headed, resolute and firm, unlike you,

Her mind has stepped out from the bolted doors, she’s in love again, and don’t be surprised, that’s not you,

The constant ringing of the cell phone, don’t matter now, your calling won’t help,

What has ended is the longing for you, what has begun is the thought of someone new,

Don’t matter now, how close or available you are, she’s found her own proximities,

She’s found solace, she’s known the real now.

Free motivational advice - Seriously non-chargeable

These quotes can't promise you a better life ahead, but can certainly let you know that the "Possibility" never dies. It's still alive somewhere in the form of  "hope". 

And "Hope" is a very beautiful thing!

So here I am again, for the mass benefit. 

- Winners lose much more often than losers. So if you keep losing but you're still trying, keep it up! You're right on track.

- The sun shines and warms and lights us and we have no curiosity to know why this is so; but we ask the reason of all evil, of pain, and hunger, and mosquitoes and silly people.

- I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times, the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right.

- Where the willingness is great, the difficulties cannot be great.

- The best way out is always through.

- Success is a state of mind. If you want success, start thinking of yourself as a success.

- Setting an example is not the main means of influencing others; it is the only means.

- Desire is the starting point of all achievement, not a hope, not a wish, but a keen pulsating desire which transcends everything.

- Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.

- Positive anything is better than negative thinking.

- I know for sure that what we dwell on is who we become.

- Success consists of doing the common things of life uncommonly well.

- Adversity introduces a man to himself.

- Many great ideas go unexecuted, and many great executioners are without ideas. One without the other is worthless.

- Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavour.

- An idea can turn to dust or magic, depending on the talent that rubs against it.

- The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.

- Those who wish to sing, always find a song.

- There are only two rules for being successful. One, figure out exactly what you want to do, and two, do it.

- Attitudes are contagious. Make yours worth catching.

- Act or accept.

- By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day

- Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.

- Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.

- Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.

- If you're going through hell, keep going.

- I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.

- Sooner or later, those who win are those who think they can.

- Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it's time to pause and reflect.

- If you worry about yesterday's failures, then today's successes will be few.

and the best one!

- Anyone can do something when they WANT to do it. Really successful people do things when they don't want to do it.

Hope the fallen have stood up, the crying has stopped and the journey has once again begun !!

(The quotes are downloaded from web)

The "Stench"

“25^th of the February, 2010”. She had nervously walked into our mammoth sized work bay, with a confused look on her face and bunch of bags in her hands, apparently one for a different purpose. Someone should have told her that her very obvious looking degree/certificates folder was not required anymore by anyone. She had got the job already, the same position that I had, Assistant Manager – Sales.

(How, is what I had found myself guessing?)

I didn’t mean to notice her for more than a minute. I mean “what the heck”, it looked like she wouldn’t be able to survive on the floor full of monsters in the name of colleagues, not the ones who drink blood, but ones who strangle your existence, steal away your well deserved glories and devour your opportunities. I’d been here for a while, and though I refused to become one of them, I knew their stench and recognise it well enough by now. That day in the office, I felt sympathetic towards this chic, the newly-wed to the AVG Bank’s corporate office – Sales division. She looked like a funny, confused and simple looking small town girl. I saw her settling on a seat alternate to mine, I looked closely, managing to escape her attention. She didn’t stink.

I was popular among my co-workers. Little did I do to outshine others, but I think I just mingled well and I was pretty to look at. Bosses liked me, men wanted to take me out for dinner and drinks, women always were sweet to me (though I’d come to know some of the most ridiculous rumours about me from here and there, which I obviously had laughed off). 90% of the time I failed my sales target, but I was good at the customer service, pretty good actually. I’d got to the bank the maximum number of home loan customers, back from the public sector banks through my cross selling skills. I knew I had a future here, and my bosses believed in it. Nothing could go wrong!

“Hi”, someone whispered from my back. I turned around to see the same stupid faced new chic. “Hi back”, I gave her an uninterested look and turned around, back to my computer screen (I don’t want to be associated with this girl, she looks so vernacular!). She handed over my pen to me from behind, which had fallen down and she had picked up. She was looking at me smilingly (and quite eagerly), which appeared to me as if she was hoping that I would talk to her, introduce her to people, or may be just hang around with her. “Thanks”, I said. That was the moment when I felt instantly protective for her for the first time and I felt she really needed my help.

Next morning at work, I thought of catching up with her. She was early, like me. I went up to her and said “Coffee”? She lit up! Wearing an old frame of glasses, with a broad unattractive smile, she was wearing a pair of brown trousers and grey shirt. (Old fashioned!) At the coffee table, I found her little overexcited and shit scared about the AVG atmosphere. The feeling of being protective for her grew inside me. I took her out and started doing that almost every day. Gradually I realised that she was indeed very sweet and hardworking girl. I had begun to feel that though it’s been difficult for people to get through the real me, include themselves in my highly niche list of friends and get to a level where I can give my ears to them (aside the time when I’m not talking about myself), this one was getting into the interior of me.

“One classic milds please”, like every other day I’d gone down with her to catch a fag. She was a non smoker and had never said anything to me for my vices until then. Evidently with a lot of courage, she took away the lit cigarette from my hand and threw it on the ground. “Never do that again Romila, it’s injurious to health. And you’re important to me”, she said. “Sorry?”, while I was still coming out of the shock, I had let her do that! In a normal routine, had someone dared do that with me, I would have brushed that person off me for trying to be and act like “a friend”. But I felt like giving in, for this stupid faced innocent girl, who had now become my friend. She didn’t stop and took a promise that I wouldn’t smoke again, holding my hand in hers. “Okay”, I promised, and I had meant it.

We discussed everything almost every day. From work, to bosses, to colleagues, career aspirations gradually drifting to relationships, love, sexuality, boyfriends, girlfriends, life as such. I remember time used to fly with Sarika. And one day, when the work was long over and we were sitting on the bench outside the gates, she whispered “I love you Romila”. Her hand went into my hair and we kissed under the moonlight. I had never pondered too much about my sexual orientation till then. Like a normal girl, I had boyfriends and I had had physically intimate relationships with them. It never occurred to me that I could be attracted to a girl. Quite frankly, Sarika was not just another girl for me. She was my partner, the one I shared everything with. The one who had suddenly become my source of letting out, my best friend, and I loved her. It had made absolute sense for me to kiss her that night.

It was almost a year to that day. It was a very special day, the day when our promotions were being announced. Everyone knew that I was moving to the next level and I was very excited about it. Sarika wished me luck in the morning but had just disappeared after that. It was almost decided that the next Manager – Retail sales division was Romila Kapoor, me! Like every year, we all got together in the staff auditorium. The board had taken the seat and the names of the promotees from different divisions were being announced. The next in line was the “Retail sales division”. My eyes were searching for Sarika. “Where is she?” I thought to myself. I was getting the advance congratulations wishes from my colleagues and my co-workers from different departments.

The chairperson announced “The next Manager – Retail sales division is

Ms Sarika Bhattacharya”

Did I hear correctly?

“Ms Sarika Bhattacharya please come on the stage”, the chairperson announced again,

I sat there. There was some confusion. But I could not think. My mind stopped working. I knew people’s defamatory gaze was at me now. It wanted to rip me off from my skin and I sat there terrified to see what was happening.

There she came. All dressed in white, the same white dress that I had given her for the delegates meet which she went to last week. I was supposed to go, but she said she had never seen Mumbai. And I willingly had given my opportunity to her. I had felt a little uncomfortable, but I could have done anything for her.

So did she know?

She took away the token and came down the stairs, with a look of achievement. I tore the crowd apart to reach where she was. She seemed to have seen me. But I think there were too many people around so she was managing her way through. I shouted “Sarika!” She looked away. It was when I ran to stand in front of her, she stopped.

I stared at her in disbelief, and before I could say anything, my breath caught a familiar stench.

It was the same monstrous stench. 


..................

"Jagjit"

I’ve been thinking for quite some time on writing a tribute to my favorite Ghazal Singer, Jagjit Singh. Well not really a tribute I can write. It is just one of those days when I listened to his deep, comforting melodies, especially the ones beautifully written by Gulzar or Kaifi Azmi, and felt glad about the few mercies that the technology has been able to endow upon us. I feel remorseful about the fact that I never got a chance to listen to him on any of his live shows, probably because I wasn’t anticipating his sudden demise at all.

It only makes me realize the importance of putting one’s intentions into actions, as the time never comes back, especially when people depart in such an unexpected way.

I will take the liberty of expressing on behalf of all his fans that all sorts of emotions run down us through his eternal music. Being a keen listener (and also having a bit of understanding) of Ghazal music, I would say that it might have been difficult otherwise to sing it exactly the way had he not felt the sadness in the words so written. Commenting on his personal life tragedies would be an offense to the legend, and I would still give all the credit to his art of really going into the profound meaning of the songs, of the poet, so it reverberates like a tangible emotion, a feeling that I can touch.

He reminds me of Dad, for no reason apparently. May be because I had a 20 year old relationship with him, from the first ever song of his, that I listened to when I was a child. I had taken it in a stride, but the voice had touched me even then, the meaning sank in later.

“Mohalle ki sabse kahani purani, who budhiya jise bachhe kehte the nani,
  Woh nani ki baaton mein pariyon ka dera, woh chehre ki jhhuriyon mein sadiyon ka phera,
  Bhulaye nahi bhool sakta hai koi, woh chhoti si raatein, woh lambi kahaani”

His every song reminds me of a moment in my own life. The youngsters today wouldn’t be able to remotely connect to him I guess, and more so because the legendary singer is not alive to be reviewed by them. I have a score of his collection, but the fact that he will never sing those songs again, is disturbing indeed.

It’s been sometime that he’s left for his heavenly journey abode, and in an eventful life, I might not get an opportunity to pen down my love for his music. Ending on a disconcerting note, with two lines of a personal favorite;

“Tu apne dil ki jawaan dhadkanon ko, gin ke bata,
  Meri tarah tera dil, beqaraar hai ke nahin”

"Hello"

Say that "Hello" to me, wake me up from the sleep,

I had been sleeping for a long, long night,

the night has passed by, and the dawn is here

I looked around, but you're not there.

My angel, someone from the history,

I see you through my shut eyes, everyday,

that faint image of you in my thoughts, melts me,
takes me to other side,

Would you care telling me, 'cause this remains a mystery, 

Why the "Hello" sounded so familiar,
Is that why I knew you're someone from the past,

Now when I can't find you in the present, we are halves,

the destiny awaits, we're still not there,

Hey, there, did I see you, yes it's you,

Don't make me run, don't you hide now,

I'll follow you, till the end of time,

And then I'll make you mine,
You'll always be near.

A few of my favorite quotes/dialogues from a movie very close to my heart

Patricia: You know the worst thing for a parent... second after losing a child? Watching your child head for the same life you had. You can't stop it. It's a terrible, helpless feeling. Makes you angry all the time. And I've been angry. For a very long time. I'm exhausted. 
Holly Kennedy: Do you think we'll ever see dad again? 
Patricia: No sweetheart, never. So you have to stop waiting. 


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“Finding someone you love and who loves you back is a wonderful, wonderful feeling. But finding a true soul mate is an even better feeling. A soul mate is someone who understands you like no other, loves you like no other, will be there for you forever, no matter what. They say that nothing lasts forever, but I am a firm believer in the fact that for some, love lives on even after we're gone.” 
― Cecelia Ahern, P.S. I Love You


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Holly Kennedy: All I know is, if you don't figure out this something, you'll just stay ordinary, and it doesnt matter if its a work of art or a taco, or a pair of socks! Just create something... new, and there it is, and its you, out in the world, out side of you and you can look at it, or hear it, or read it, or feel it... and you know a little more about... you. A little bit more than anyone else does... Does that make any sense at all?
Gerry Kennedy: Yeah... you're saying you want to paint socks.
Holly Kennedy: Maybe!


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Holly Kennedy: That's a real honest to goodness couple right there. They've probably been together since the flood. 
Daniel Connelly: We're so arrogant, aren't we? So afraid of age, we do everything we can to prevent it. We don't realize what a privilege it is to grow old with someone. Someone who doesn't drive you to commit murder or doesn't humiliate you beyond repair. 


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“What a luxury it was for people to hold their loved ones whenever they wanted” 
― Cecelia Ahern, P.S. I Love You


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Sharon McCarthy: You gotta be rich to be insane, Hol. Losing your mind is not a luxury for the middle class.


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“She had been given a wonderful gift: life. Sometimes it was cruelly taken away too soon, but it's what you did with it that counted, not how long it lasted.” 
― Cecelia Ahern, P.S. I Love You


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“On the other hand, she was a women with a million happy memories, who knew what it was like to experience true love and who was ready to experience more life, more love and make new memories. Whether it happened in ten months or ten years, Holly would obey Gerry's final message. Whatever lay ahead, she knew she would open her heart and follow where it led. 
In the meantime, she would just live.” 
― Cecelia Ahern, P.S. I Love You


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Gerry's last letter to Holly
Dear Holly, I don’t have much time. I don’t mean literally, I mean, you’re out buying icecream and you’ll be home soon. I have a feeling this is gonna be the last letter, because there is only one thing left to tell you. It isn’t to go down memory lane or make you buy a lamp, you can take care of yourself without any help from me. It’s to tell you how much you move me, how you’ve changed me. You made me a man, by loving me Holly. And for that, I am eternally grateful, literally. If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you’re sad, or unsure, or you lose complete faith, that you’ll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of being my wife. I’m a man with no regrets. How lucky am I. You made my life, Holly. But I’m just a chapter in yours. There’ll be more. I promise. So here it comes, the big one: Don’t be afraid to fall in love again. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends. 


P.S. I will always love you. 


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Patricia: So now, all alone or not, you gotta walk ahead. Thing to remember is if were all alone, then were all together in that too.


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Holly's thoughts at the end of the movie
Dear Gerry, you said you wanted me to fall in love again, and maybe one day I will. But there are all kinds of love out there. This is my one and only life, And its a great and terrible and short and endless thing, and none of us come out of it alive. I don't have a plan... except, it's time my mom laughed again. She has never seen the world... she has never seen Ireland. So, I'm taking her back where we started... Maybe now she'll understand. I don't know how you did it, but you brought me back from the dead. I'll write to you again soon. 


P.S... Guess what? 

"From the past"

The three days old flowers on the bedside had started to dry. Even though I kept telling the nurse everyday to water them properly, and she did, I continued to contemplate if had she been a little more careful about the time and the quantity of water, they could last one more day. The day was coming to an end and there was no sign of him today as well.

I tried to pull the curtains from the window and saw that the moon was rising and sun was setting at the same time. The sky was patched, orange, blue and bright red, all mixed up to create as if the colour of gloom, the colour of my empty heart. My eyes were stuck at the door, I almost imagined him knocking at the door and startling me with another white rose bouquet in his hands, hiding his angelic wrinkled face under the disappearing grey hair mound. In the last two days and today, every time someone opens the door, I trace the corridor outside to look for him, find him somewhere, but the door gradually shuts leaving me feel more paralytic than ever. My longing to stand up on my feet and run down the hospital stairs in my gown grows humungous, but I know that I can’t get up, and all I can do is to wait., wait endlessly till he really does come and knocks me out of my heart, sweep me off my feet and love me like no one does.

“Aunty, it’s time for your physiotherapy, the physiotherapist is here.” the nurse said to me. It was a good hospital, and the caretakers were good too. But they did not belong to me. There were many patients in the hospital, and quite a few in its Neuro ward. The nurses and the wardboys worked like machines with no tangible emotions, their faces made of stone, expressionless even at the sight of blood and they react in the most inhuman way when they see someone in pain. I asked the nurse about him yet another time to get the same answer and I bit my pillow cover to vent my frustration and misery.

“May be he has forgotten me, or he had some work. Didn’t he tell me he would be travelling this whole week?” I was trying to remember my last conversation with him. He had come three days earlier with the usual white rose bouquet. He sat with me the whole day and we talked about life, my disease and the treatment. We even joked about the MS (Medical Superintendent) and his long white beard. He told me how he was doing all his housework by himself because his wife wasn’t keeping too well health-wise and his housemaid had ditched him. “May be there was too much work today, and he is too tired to come. After all he is an old man too, like me and age gets on to you no matter how fit you try to keep yourself.”

I didn’t know his name, neither what he did nor how he knew me. As far as I can sketch my whole existence, I become more conscious of the fact that he existed much before me and he was there by my side from the very beginning. I remember last week we talked about love. I don’t remember falling in love with anyone in my life. I have always been lonely and ill. He told me how love can make you a weak and strong person at the same time. “Meera”, he had said calling out my name aloud that day. “There is a trade off between loving someone and loving yourself. The heart has only this much love to give, and your mind gets to decide who you want to love more.” Today when I was trying to get up from the bed, I knew it would hurt my whole body but I was trying to lift myself so that I could see outside the window for his sign. “Is this love?” I wondered. We talked about promises. He told me “Meera, when you make a promise to someone, make sure you say it loud enough so that it resounds in your head for a long time. I have promised to love my wife till death do us apart and it resounds in my head all the time.” He had asked me if I had ever been in love and I had said no. I think I lied.

It was 10 pm now and was quite late by hospital standards. The nurse had arrived to give me the sedative. I asked her once more, “just in case”, to get the same answer yet again. “Let him be, he doesn’t deserve so much of a thought” I decided. The nurse had put out the light and it was dark again. Nothing close to how dark I felt. I was angry, upset, helpless, and had succumbed to the feeling of love that I had for him in my heart. “He lied when he said love makes you stronger, it makes you weak and so fragile.” In all this time in the hospital, lying on the same bed, feeling powerless, depending on other people for even my basic needs, I have never felt as feeble as my heart was making me feel that moment.  “I DON’T LOVE HIM”, I said it aloud for it to resound in my ears, just like he had told me. I don’t remember when I slept.

....

The sleep was quick. The night passed by earlier than I thought it would. There were people outside my door talking about someone. Yet another old patient, who had succumbed to his senile weakness, may be. The nurse wasn’t around so I shouted out to a young guy outside my door and called him inside. He seemed to be a new face in the hospital, possibly an intern.

“An old man was admitted two days ago when his cancer was diagnosed at a very late stage. There was no way he could be saved. ” He told me. “The sad part is that his wife is admitted in the same hospital. She is suffering from Alzheimer’s.”

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The "Light" at the end

“Ah, it has been a long time, hasn’t it?” I was thinking to myself. With a glass of chilled beer on my table amongst the beautiful ambience of the Italian restaurant I had come out to spend a solitary evening, I felt at peace. It was a strangely quiet and peaceful evening, one that is a rare opportunity for a busy working woman like me, to notice something as insignificant as the people walking outside the glass door of the restaurant. Some doing their chores, a few young colourful kids laughing away with friends, these women wearing fancy suits clinging on to their husband’s arms, a romancing couple in the corner along the escalator, a gang of geeks wearing old fashioned jeans and simple tees, perhaps celebrating the end of a flurry of exams. They all looked bizarrely familiar. “Oh we all live in the same city, it’s a small city isn’t it?” I dispensed these thoughts.

“Madam, your Farfalle Paprika, do you want me to serve?” The waiter disrupted my thoughts. I nodded. I wanted these guys to leave me alone with my solitude. I am not a cynic, or a schizophrenic alcoholic woman, but I like my lone time, my space outside the madness of the crowd, the responsibilities, the race for accumulating luxuries of life, the betrayals of friends and colleagues, the undue favouritism of the seniors, the expectations of elders, the demands of my grown up kids and my own pessimistic mindset.

Still looking outside the door, I noticed the blue t shirt boy among the geek gang. It was Avi! Wasn’t he supposed to be gone for his engineering coaching class? I wore back my glasses to confirm. Yes it was him. “Disgusting”, I spend 25 grand for his class every quarter and he skips it without even thinking once that it’s his mother’s hard earned money.  I cleared the cheque and rushed outside, only to be stopped by another familiar face. “Mrs Kumar! What are you doing here?” it was Mrs Gupta, our nosy neighbour. “Waiting to be bugged by you, 10kms away from our society, for a nice change”, I thought to myself annoyingly. She was blabbering continuously. There are some people who keep hitting on to your shoulders to grab your attention, she was one of them and she did it very, very often, like every 10 seconds. As far as I can remember, the number of household items that she had borrowed from me in the last 10 years ranging from sugar, milk, tea leaves, talcum powder, moisturizer, steam iron, gas cylinder and even upholstery, I almost felt like running two homes as a single mother instead of one.

My eyes gave her a tiny glance and started tracing Avi again. I noticed that he hadn’t come alone; Neeru my daughter was with him. As soon as Mrs Gupta left, I rushed to the other side of the mall. Out of the blue, I saw my mother on the wheel chair coming towards me from the opposite side. “She must have come with Avi”, I thought. She didn’t notice me I think, but I got a chance to look at her morose face. She wasn’t happy being alone, living in our old house, the one that my father built for us. Though both my brother Ishaan and I had made sure that she has enough servants, all kinds of them, a nurse, a caretaker, a cleaner and a cook, but I think she didn’t want all of that. Her expectations were too high, she expected love which we didn’t have, she expected time, which is a luxury and then I saw her servant Govind pushing her wheelchair away.

Someone abruptly kept a hand on my shoulder from behind. It was Ishaan and his wife Aabha. “Didi, how are you”. I was surprised to see all of my family here in the mall, but there was no such look on his face. He seemed unperturbed and peaceful. As far as I can remember, he always took care of me as an elder brother. His wife Aabha was as gentle as him. I remember that I was in a constant denial of accepting my sister-in-law as my family member, not sure for which particular reason. After one failed marriage I think I always thought too much and it has been difficult for me to trust people.  He was saying something to me, but I was still lingering in my thoughts. 

Suddenly I heard a sound of a loud thud in my ears. A chill ran down my spine as I thought it could be Avi or Neeru. Without saying a word to Ishaan, I started moving towards the sound. I realised that it was followed by a siren, that of an ambulance I think. I took the escalator going to the ground floor which was I think two floors down. As I was going down, the crowd was diminishing. There was lesser number of people there. The loudness of the siren was increasing. I reached two floors below but it wasn’t the ground floor. I took another escalator down, and just next to my escalator was another one going up. I looked at the other escalator only to see Avi and Neeru staring at me smilingly. They were all there, Ishaan, Abha, Mrs Gupta, Mom, and to my surprise, I saw Dad and Vinod too, my husband. Everyone was on the escalator going up and there was no way I could catch up with them, or stop them. There was a peculiar feeling of helplessness and I felt that there could be no way that I would see them again. The siren finally grew really loud now I think I fainted.

........

I woke up with too much light falling on my eye lids and realised it was a dream. I had been sleeping for really long I guess. I got up from the bed to go to the other room where Avi and Neeru were sleeping peacefully. They were all still around, everyone that I love and still had a chance to say the unsaid and reach out to. The fears were all gone and there was no helplessness remaining. The sunshine seemed bright and the morning was  beautiful. It was indeed the light at the end, after all the darkness of the night.

Releasing all my barriers, dismissing all the negativity, approaching everyone and opening my heart to the world is the real way to live. Not for time gone by and not for the uncertainty the future will bring, this very moment I am alive, and I will live it.