MellowDrama

Dear Dear Netra, I am writing this to you in the hope that it will bear witness to the immense love I feel for you but am not probably good at expressing. I don't love you like Papa does. For me you are not the perfect child as you are for him. I don't kiss you and smell you and hug you when you sleep like he does. I don't buy you everything that you put your finger on and I don't cry when you bruise your knees, arms, nose or cheeks. So what is my love all about? For beginners let me tell you that you hold the key to my soul. You are my very 'jaan', just like the 'jaan' that the magician had put in the parrot. You are my that parrot. I like any mother want you to turn out perfect. This roots from the fact that I can't and won't be able to bear anyone point a finger at you or raise their voice ever at you. This privilege lies with me exclusively. Your father also doesn't share it. This is not the perfect way to love but this is the on

Dear Netra From time to time it seems that you do not like the drawing classes that I make you take once a week. Maybe now you do after doing them for some 4-5 months but I still have my doubts. First your grandfather and now your father have also pointed out to the same fact and like I said I also do realise that you do not like it much  but I think that your thing is against homework and thwarted freedom to draw as you like. So here are some of my reasons for making you stick with the drawing class: 1.        I believe that it will give you some sort of artistic sensibility of which I and your father are bereft. And I think it is important to have a leaning rather an understanding of things beyond the mere necessities of life to be able to enjoy all that God has blessed us in the form of nature and art. 2.        I insist on these lessons because I feel that having learnt to draw will someday give a mega boost to your morale, self confidence and faith. 3.        I t

Growing up was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be the escape from all the miseries in life- school, studies, teachers, homework, rules. ...It was to be the end of the pain of the misery of teenage years of heartbreak. Growing up was supposed to liberate me. It was supposed to give me wings. It was supposed to bring happiness in wake and achievements and conquests of all kinds. While growing up I hardly knew that this was a non-stop process. That there are certain things about which you do all the growing up in a night and there are others which keep hassling you over long days and endless nights. While growing up I had not even realised that it will bring along its own pains. Its own horror shows like none other. Irreparable damages. Bitter words with lasting impacts.Massive losses. Yes. Massive losses. Losses that leave you shaken. Losses of a different nature. Losses that don't make sense and losses that shatter the sense this world made (if ever that is). Losin

What do you remember when you recall your childhood? I am assaulted by doubts when I think what my daughter will remember of me during her childhood.Will it all be evil? Full of shouting? Angry outbursts? Hurtful words? Then I decided to see what I recalled from my childhood. There are sights and there are sounds that came flooding. Often there have been episodes and incidents which crop up from nowhere, at times surprising me with the intensity and clarity with which they come on a perfectly normal day. But when I made a conscious effort of remembering the days bygone I was surprised with the warmth and fuzzy feelings that I encountered. Here is a peek. I recall changotra sessions at my naani's house. This is quite vivid. I can smell the winter sun of Palampur even now at its mere mention. The fragrance of this huge citrus fruit as it was brought out before the lunch hour from a tree in front of my naani's house.The peeling, the preparation of a special herbed salt and

Day before yesterday I connected with a school-time pal after good 16 years. I did not recognise his voice and to be very honest was quite suspicious till the end if it was the same guy as he said he was. But later on I kept thinking about this particular event. There was initially an awkwardness to talk to someone whom you have not seen of or heard from for a decade and a half but it vanished as the familiar began to make its way in to the conversation. The people who have seen us rather known as kids probably are the only people who are familiar with the essence of us, with the core from where we originate. They are probably the only people in the world who know us for who we really are. As children we are at our best. We have not been contaminated yet. We have not been touched and affected all that is good or bad with/ in the world. We are still learning the ways of the world. We might be learning the ropes but haven't perfected our stances while we are kids. These people w

Bura jo dekhan main chala, Bura na milya koi Jo  mann khojaa aapnaa, mujh se buraa na hoye Every few days I get a glimpse of how bad, shallow and scrooge-y fellow I am. And this without venturing out to see the Bura. Imperfections and all are okay but mine go beyond the permissible limit. Take my social skills for that matter. they are so negligent that I have been told recently on the face that I am lowliest of the low in this matter of great importance. Maybe, just maybe, that comment was the force behind this particular post. Hurrmmmphh!

I wasn't scared of marriage. I did not think about it could be one reason. And I did not know what all was part of the package could be another reason. But on examining it closer and having read a bit in the past few years, I realised I wasn't scared of marriage because I was not prepared, as a sacrificial goat often is, prepared for marriage. I think it largely begins and belongs with my mother as it begins, belongs and stays with other mothers. I think I wasn't scared of marriage and what all it will do to curb me as a person because I wasn't trained to be someone else after marriage. I was, since the childhood, put on a certain mental fodder that I took for granted would not change after the marriage. I am an avid reader and I was never fed the thought that I will be barred from reading when I got married. So why would marriage scare me? Brought up in such an atmosphere where I was taught by example how responsibilities of the household are meant to be share