Clinging to memories

The past came whirling to her eyes. She remembered it all.How strange life could be, it at times give you blisters which refuse to heal, she thought.

It was a mellow summer afternoon, she was fiddling with her cell phone when she heard her uncle call out her name, he wanted her to click a photo for him. Well, she was taken aback. Her uncle out of all people was someone who didn't like to pose for photographs. And he winked at her adding that it was her duty to make it a memorable one for him. Well, a decent photo got captured and she transferred it to his phone.

She stared at the same photograph today, neatly framed adorning a wall. The garland adorning it had been replaced but she could only smell despair, the scented jasmines had withered in grief. Two years, it had been two years without him by her side.

She knew she couldn't have him back, nor could she anymore click his photographs. He wanted it to be memorable, little did she know he would himself turn into a memory. But, what she could do was remember those warm memories without breaking down. She smiled at the photograph after two long years and that smile was enough to melt her frozen grief. Life had tricked her again, it finally had started healing her blisters.

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Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing

Cup of tea

Be his 'cup of tea' the world announced, My hena smeared hands decided my fate. I was a butterfly, wild, untamed. Who ran like the wind, even faster than the wind. But, my legs got shackled My run gave away to timid steps My dreams evaporated with the smoke that went curling from the hearth His 'cup of tea' was what I learning to become. I wish someone had said, it's OK to not be anyone's 'cup of tea' I wish someone had said, it's OK to be untamed I wish someone had said, it's OK to live your way But no one did, and I didn't dare I let myself die each day, each night. The veil covered by swollen heart but I felt naked within My wishes got choked in the dense kitchen air My essence got lost in time I became everything that wasn't me. I finally became his 'cup of tea' .

Swings of a rhapsodic mind

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