They say, look! she has mellowed,
Wrinkles have marked her glowing skin.
I wonder, have I?
I place myself before a mirror
I meet an odd looking person
A sigh escapes my lips which curls in the wind
The wind, chokes my wits.
So, it's begun. I have aged.
But I have wishes still in the cage
Which got subdued due to my rage
It's time I think, I turn the page.
For rhyme, rhyme as I fathom
Isn't life alone.
Life gives jolts enough to drive wits away,
Enough to curb what we used to be.
If only, I could go back in time,
If only, I knew what it meant to live,
If only, I knew what life had in store.
This, this is how we let our life pass,
Repenting on the deeds which we happily chose to rush.
Life, now has bought dismal tidings to its shore.
Isn't it time, we started living,
Isn't it time, we stop repenting,
Isn't it time, enough to make us believe
If anything that we can do is now alone.
We can write each new day, a story called life.
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
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