Posts

That thing about being at home

You know it when the air in the rooms has a warmth to it. The light is just a shade mellower for you soul to feel comfortable in. The music that drifts around is of the song that plays in your head and heart. The comfort is not in the depth of the mattresses or the breadth of the sofa but an embrace. The high ceiling does not bar your ambition Instead that is where you hang your dreams to be picked and worked upon the next morn. The ordinary is my routine yet I find a newness to it Every time I walk back from the world in to my home

must dos

i need to bring so many changes about myself. i keep making mental notes of tings to do and keep forgetting them. i must start my day with prayers and meditation. i must drive else i wil forget. i must wear those lenses. i must sit down with myself. i must seek help to heal and give myself a new coat of paint. i mustlearn to control my temper and tongue and facial expressions. i must plaster a smile on to my face for ever. i must not raise my voice with chunnu.

shared times

are there times when there is noithing to say? the happiest times that i can think of are the times that i have spent in the company of people but not chit chatting or in serious discussions but looking out of the window, reading my book, listening to music on the headphones....not shattering silence. in the comfort of the knowledge that when my trance breaks and i smile to share the peace within i will be met with a smile conveying the same sentiment.

worrisome worries

i worry a lot these days. about sub, chun, myself...actually everyone. i have always been sensitive but these days i hv gone two extra miles and worry like a maniac. that is to say everyday iam thinking of something to worry about the whole day. my fav topic these days is sub in hyderabad. two days back it was chun's potty but changing her multivits has done the trick. on nov 26 last week when mumbai was terrorised, i was suffering in chandigarh. i, for the first time understood, why those men are called terrorists. they had not terrorised that city but had struck terror and frightened me here, so many kilometers away. i latched all my doors, dropped curtains, locked myself in a room along with my daughter and clutched my phone. i wonder why i did not arm myself with some weapon. i think i was out of my wits. i have always wanted to write like ruskin bond, i mean the stuff that he writes about, the mundane, the daily activities but now i think that won't happen because those sw
lost and found has been the case of my days. lost a baby but found immense joy in the second one. lost my job but found i had some skills as a homemaker. was beginning to loose myself. haven't written in days, don't read very often and when i do it is magazines like good house keeping. found the fear of loosing loved ones very close to my heart, lost the fear of spending time in the kitchen cooking meals.