MellowDrama

What do you write when you want to write? When there are precious moments of solitude And no distractions When there is a story bubbling inside of you And the ending lures you into reading those of others When days have passed without having had a conversation Though there are plenty of subjects But there is a dearth of subjects that  matter What do you write when your memory fails And you can't recall exactly whether it was the month of June or July The 20th or the 22nd The tale of which you want to relate What do you write when you want to write About the burning desires And glorious goals Of which you have little knowledge left What do you write when there is stillness all around you But you yearn for some noise

Whenever people, especially us north Indians and those not from the IT industry, think of moving up in the work ladder and look at cities we might have to relocate you can be sure that it would either be Delhi or Mumbai. I could have even forgotten that there was a city named Kolkata. And while we were leading a comfortable life in the country's most planned city, the city of gardens aka Chandigarh, Calcutta made way in to our lives and today after four years I wonder if it would be wrong to say that all hell broke lose. So it happened and within fifteen days we went from living in the most planned city to probably the most chaotic city. Relocation is a real bummer. You are more alone than you could have bargained for, for many reasons. Initially when the stuff is in transit and there is no house to clean, co-ordinate and run, you are wowed but the wow soon turns in to a painful aoowwww. The spouse is busy, more busy than usual in getting acquainted with the work place and tak

There is no structure to the days. Was there one ever, I ask myself? I have never been the one for structure, a time table, a way of doing things. This has been a source of joy and distress at one and the same time.

Dard. Pain. This word in English language doesn't probably deliver the force which a parent feels when the child is hurt. Moving on. Physical pain goes away but the memory of many such physical episodes lingers. There are times when this memory hits you with a surprising ferocity like the way I just now remembered Netra's ear incident wherein the lock part of her earring had lodged itself in the pierced part of the ear, stretching the skin and how she screamed when the doctor had to make an incision and took it out with tweezers.

Dard. Pain. This word in English language doesn't probably deliver the force which a parent feels when the child is hurt. Moving on. Physical pain goes away but the memory of many such physical episodes lingers. There are times when this memory hits you with a surprising ferocity like the way I just now remembered Netra's ear incident wherein the lock part of her earring had lodged itself in the pierced part of the ear, stretching the skin and how she screamed when the doctor had to make an incision and took it out with tweezers.

To begin to like your own cooking is also a way of evolving. You are your own best judge and you are very well conversant with your graph. The ups and the downs. The highs and the burnt lows. Acceptance from family members is definitely a bonus but not an assured one. So I cook for myself now and the others in the house have to go along with it. I am liking what I am making more and more (like yesterday night's paneer paranthas) and that is quite a happy place to be in. ******* I went to the loo. Before I sat down on the pot Abir followed me in with 2 Peppa Pig books and sat down on the floor. Rather settled down comfortably in his striped pajamas. Then he gave me one book and asked me to read it to him. He never tires of these. So again we did Peppa's family loves different things. And we did them again in the morning when he was following me incessantly with those two again while I had to do Netra's tiffin and lunch and breakfast related cooking. 

Death is a stranger to me. I haven't really had much to do with it. But now at the age of 34 I realise that soon enough we will be seeing more of each other. In the past three years or so I have lost a younger cousin brother, a dear uncle and my grandfather- Bauji. Perhaps his is the only death that can be called timely i.e. if there is a thing like that, calling a death 'timely'. He hadn't been keeping well for years now the past couple of years being the worst. he had lost his hearing and appetite. In the last year or so I think he even lost the will to live. It was I think my nani's efforts that managed to keep his body function to the best of its abilities as much as it could. I think all of us in the family were waiting to hear the news of his death. When Shaurya passed away in a car mishap, and my father called me up about his death, I couldn't hear his name in that one sentence that my father had to repeat over and over again. I think he became exasp