MellowDrama

Dear Netra You have been now around for a wonderful six years. I formed this letter in my head much before we celebrated your sixth birthday this October but I could not bring myself to give it shape because I can only write when you are away and when you are away and I think of you I am overwhelmed with my feelings (which range from tenderness to mad anger depending on what I remember of you at the moment) for you. Anyhow, now that you are out of the house playing and it is all suddenly quiet in here, I am writing this to tell you how happening this year been. You now outrun some other 6 year olds in the building, out-dance even bigger kids, get praise from the yoga teacher for your enthusiasm and have been bringing merit batches for good reading skills from the school. This year you have acquainted yourself with perfect. You look for perfect in everything from a doll to a shuttle that would just be perfect for your green bats. You have added jokes to your arsenal. You have dev...

As your wedding day approaches and all the conversations steer towards it, I am thinking about the time I was in the same spot. Now I have been married for about 7 years, so I have the right to tell you a few things about this whole affair. I hope some of it you will laugh off and the bits that you will choose to remember will serve you well. I don't know your fiancé so I cant say whether you are marrying the man of your dreams or you are taking on the challenge of starting your life with a boy. Either ways I hope that in life you both will grow into a man and a woman who love, cherish and most importantly respect each other. I hope and pray that you both help each other in becoming the best version of yourselves and do not spend days rather a moment berating each other, recounting qualities you wish he had and virtues he admires in other women around. I hope in this marriage you find a friend, an ally.Someone you can reach out for solace and hugs; for holding hands; who splur...

So the good people at The New Indian Express have invited me to write another column for them . This one is for students at  high school  and beyond. This is a motivational column. I likes this as I likes to jibber jabber with the young peoples. This love was found at Dainik Bhaskar during Quest and Yo! days. Some of the kids have recognised me in the market places and at other old offices and I have felt like a star. So here is wishing more motivation to the writer and the reader!!!!!!!!!! Plenty gloating done, go read the article here .

I would like to think I am not competitive. I don't even know where and how to compete. As I begin this post I am trying to state things where competition happens but I am failing miserable as I hardly know the arenas. As a child I was least bothered about who stood first and who came second though I was a fairly good student. I don't think I ever considered myself in the queue to get nominated for the rank in the class. It did not matter who wore what and who flaunted what stationery sent by some uncle/ aunt living in States. What mattered to me was how many words could I spell and could rattle the exact dictionary definition. Also maybe the number of books I borrowed in a month. (I can imagine a few smirks here and there) The trend continued during the college and then university years. I was too laid back to be hurried in and out of classrooms and projects in the name of competing with the classmates. I am slow. I move slow. I often speak slowly and I think very very s...

Shagufta Ahmed Jawed. and I got to know each other at the YWCA in New Delhi where both of us were learning the ropes of the world after being ushered out of our respective universities. A few years my senior Shagufta worked hard at increasing and improving her educational qualifications besides holding a full time job. I did not know it then but starting her own business was her dream and all her efforts were aimed in that direction. She went on to establish herself in the field of commodity trading and after years of hard work and today is a name to reckon with. While she was at it, life gifted her two beautiful daughters and a son. She is raising them along side raising her 'first born' as she likes to call her business. Shagufta brings with her an old world charm and set of ethos that are becoming difficult to find in this fast paced world yet she believes in marching with the times and keeps herself updated on the technology front as well. She extends warmth and love t...

I am worrying.  About the chicken I have taken out of the fridge to cook, which I don't want to cook.  I don't want to cook it today being a Thursday and this piece of religious sentimentality lodged in my head about cooking and consuming meat on certain days.  I can't leave it as it has been now lying in the fridge since Monday and the husband fears it will rot. I also share the fear and so may be I will just get cooking. But I also have two submissions. There is no lunch ready for Netra if she comes home early today. So I am worrying about that too. I have not even started on one of the submissions. I have no ideas even. It is 11 already and the day is running ahead with its own plans and un-kept promises. A broken tap in the kitchen. Dinner preparation. Clothes strewn around the house. Unmade beds. Cluttered side table. Dust on the study table. Clothes that have been on the rope for the past two days I think I will just go cook the chicke...

The sound of rain drops falling on a surface, whoever captured that and the music in them must have been a genius. The song from 1942 A Love Story- Bajta hai jal tarang teen ki chaat pe jab, motiyon jaisa jal barse describes it best. The song itself gives a pristine feel, has lovely looking Manisha Koirala and an ever handsome Anil Kapoor. Though not one for getting wet and all the fun while getting wet or being wet in the rains, I am hooked to hearing and seeing the rain fall. It has happened after years of being unaware of the magic of the downpour, of years in haste, of years of hurry. Being in Kolkata and home alone in this weather, the monsoons, in all their grandeur I fixed myself in a spot near the French window of the bedroom that doesn’t look out to any garden or any such beauty but which offers a wide view of the grey skies. And I watched as it came in a rush like a hurried office goer who has to be present at the appointed hour. I caught myself humming O sajna bark...