My Dearest....

.... Daughter,

People say your life changes after you have a baby. They say that, apart from the complete change in the focal point of life, one starts to live for the baby. I wonder if that is true – I find it difficult to care about most people beyond a certain level, I can’t picture myself giving my everything up for anyone else other than my own mother. I wonder how much I will love you, whether I will be any good at it.

What is the world like when you are reading this? Right now, I hear news – the Fifty Shades of Grey trailer, Beyoncé’s song; flights being shot down, disappearing; people, societies, cultures being bombed out of existence, massive corrosion in safety to human lives…. Yes, that IS the order of our priorities. Has anything changed? Become better? ....Worse? I pray not.

Forget the world for now – we are capable of being truly ignorant of how insignificant our individual lives are in the face of the bigger picture, so let’s make use of that talent – tell me about you. What are you like? Do you look anything like me? Do you like to read? Dance? Or are you more like your Father? Do you pick out tomato peels from food like your Uncle? Do you sneeze explosively like your great Grandpa? Do you know how to ride a bike? What are your favorite subjects? Do you love English like I do? Whoever you are, remember that you are the best you, possible. It is easy to get caught in a society full of comparison, trying to be better than this person at this and that person at that. But, trust me, just like we all have unique thumb prints, we all are so very unique that trying to better someone at something will only be like pitting oranges against cows. Unless you are setting world records.

Also, always remember to say “thank you” and “please” and then smile afterward. People might laugh at you, for believing in such supposedly outdated manners, but being nice never hurt anyone and never cost anything. And keep in mind that your aukaad is shown, not in how you treat your seniors or your peers, but in how you treat those who are beneath you. Waiters are not there for your convenience, rickshaw drivers are not your personal drivers and nobody in this world is yours to order around. Humility and politeness are two forgotten traits that both your mother and your grandmother are determined to inculcate in our offspring.

By the way, little one, do you know that there is a theory that we were born of stars? That we are made of stardust? How truly awe-inspiring is that? To know that we are truly precious. The theory fascinates me to no end. But if I love you as much as I am supposed to, I’m sure I’ll think everything you are made of is better than stardust itself. 

By now, I’m sure you have heard my holier-than-thou litany about how I don’t believe in religion. And yet, we pack up and go to Church on Sundays, we walk around temples and the nav grahas, you see me fasting and whatnot. Don’t be confused. Always remember that you are but a tiny, very tiny (but cute), part of humanity and that there is always a higher power to surrender to. That the God we say resides in us is that conscience that pricks when you put a foot forward on the wrong path. Abide by that, and with our blessings, you will never go wrong.

Take care of yourself, won’t you? It is okay to go nuts once in a while. But live healthy, mind AND body. With family history of a wide spectrum of diseases, it is important that you treat the body that God has given you right. It is the only body you have and if you damage it with as much Coke and fries as your mother has, you will have to face the consequences yourself – there IS no spare.

Fall in love as many times as you want. But marriage is for life, so choose wisely. Having a boy around might be fun but unless you are independent and strong, it is easy to lose your own identity in the relationship. Respect yourself. Very important. But don’t take yourself too seriously – you should always be able to laugh at yourself. And never, ever, ever toy with anybody’s emotions. Breaking someone’s heart will hurt you more than anything else can.  

Being alive is not an easy feat, my love. Life constantly throws googlies at you to test you – there will be highs so high that euphoria will go to your head and there will be lows so low that you will just want to give up. At some points, life will be a breeze but at most points, every single day will be a struggle to just get through. But regardless of which point you are at, keep in mind this too shall pass. It’s gotten me through some tough times. And never forget that I will always, always be there – you can come to me for anything without fear of judgment or consequences. We will ride the storm out together, if that’s what you want.

And whatever you do, however you live, you must always be able to do two things:
1)    Look yourself in the eye in the mirror and sleep a good night’s sleep.
2)    Never be ashamed of owning up to who you really are, in front of anybody. 

I promise I will try and give you the very best of everything I possibly can. Promise me you will be the best you, you can possibly be.

So much to say, so little time… I now realize that a lifetime is not enough to prepare you for life.

Lots of love,
Your Mother, when she was 24.

Lack of Lustre

I washed the clothes. I did the dishes. I scrubbed the kitchen floor to a shine.

And I picked up the groceries.
Then I sat down and riffled through the stack of congratulatory cards on the side table,
All of them wishing us a very happy married life.
 

The shine had faded from our eyes, but the cards hadn't seemed to notice.

Y - You

You.

I picture you by my side, wrapped up in a blanket together so that your warmth keeps me cozy even as my nose is nipped by the chill of the night. I get comfortable on the bench and pass on the mug of hot chocolate after taking a sip. While you look at my face and laugh at the milk moustache I have given myself. I scowl at you, making you laugh harder. Sundarikutty, you say. And we unpause The Red Wedding and watch with rapt attention. Together.

I picture you pulling a T-shirt on to go fetch milk to make me some tea on a lazy Sunday morning. I slide onto the kitchen counter and cross my legs while you wash the vessels I used last night and potter around the stove to get the tea just right, just the way I like it. You entertain me with your constant chatter till it’s time to hand me my mug and then wait quietly for me to pronounce the verdict. When I don’t, you say chai kaise bani hai and I say bohot acchi hai in between slurps and then you start sipping your own between torrents of words that I’m only half-listening to.

I picture you standing at the altar, grinning from ear to ear with happiness, with your brother by your side and your parents at the pew. You turn around to look at me, your smile falters just a bit and your eyes widen just a bit. I take my place by your side and think if it is weird that I know everything that you want to say but are not saying it because Father is standing right in front of us. Especially the thoughts about the cut of my neckline. I’m just glad I’m the focus of your attention today.

I picture you sitting on the rocking chair with the child on your lap, your wrinkled hands tapping the screen impatiently as the child stops you and teaches you how to tap it right. You sigh with frustration and remember a time when I used to frustrate you with my know-it-all-ness – about how I have always been the one who’s good with the gadgets. When I walk in with your evening dose of medicines, you take it from me and give my hand a squeeze to let me know that you are thinking of me.

I picture you standing by my grave. I want to tell you not to waste money on the elaborate flowers you have brought for me and you suddenly smile through tears as if you can hear me. You stand by my side long after everyone else is gone, just like you always have.

You. My life.
Everything started with you. And everything ends in you. 

I dedicate this to K and her G, my wedding present :*

P.S: This is the kind of love I want for myself. Sigh.
P.P.S: I'm allowed to be sappy once in a while. I am. I AM. Hmph. 

R - Romance

She coughed and coughed and coughed some more till she could taste blood – when the bout passed, she fell back onto the bare mattress. She was at her very worst – unkempt hair, water had not touched her skin for days on end, three-day-old clothes and crusty eyes. Make-up was a thing that had been left behind in the past. She called out for him, he didn’t seem to be around. The measly medication that they were able to afford was not helping, except to make her woozy and tired all the time and she floated back into a state that was suspended between sleep and consciousness, unbidden tears slipping out of her eyes because of sheer helplessness – the chemotherapy might be working but it was also sapping the quality of her life. When she came to, she could see him sitting on the floor through hazy eyes. Maybe the medicines were working after all, she passed out again.

After a while, she felt the shaking, she opened her eyes. He was looking at her face. Her first thoughts were of how tired he looked. He was asking her to sit up and she did. He brought a plate of freshly-cut fruits, all her favorite ones, toward her and asked her to eat up. She smiled at finally having the appetite for something and she ate. She smiled more at the thought of him having cut the fruits, he who have never lifted a finger in his rich, comfortable life.

When she was done, he scooped her up onto his lap and she automatically curled up against him with her face right next to his scruffy chin. She was about to close her eyes when he pulled out a rose from behind and said, “I love you.” She smiled yet again, this time way wider. He thought this was the most she has smiled in weeks. Perhaps even since her diagnosis.

They curled up together and talked about their days, lives, work, family, home and their dreams. They didn’t know how long they would be able to keep having such moments but… They were content. They were happy in that moment.

 
***
And that’s all the romance you really need.

G - Gay

I have never yet taken a stand on the blog, have I? It sure as hell wasn’t because I didn’t have an opinion. It is mostly because I don’t understand. 

I don’t understand why it is up to the law – why the law has the power to decide which two people can or cannot be together?

I don’t understand why people are so judgmental about something that they don’t even really understand?

I don’t understand why being called gay is an insult? (Closest of friends do this and it pisses me off immensely though I have learnt to keep my cool and choose my battles).

I don’t understand why it is considered to be less than manly to love another man?

I don’t understand why a lesbian is considered an easy lay? That she will most certainly be into threesomes as well? (Not even in a funny way)

I don’t understand why people can’t question their own sexuality without being either ostracized or called unstable?

I don’t understand why some men have such a big problem with other men being gay?

I don’t understand why you wouldn’t take being hit on a sign that you are attractive and not disgusting (men-hitting-on-men, women-hitting-on-women-context)?

I don’t understand how you can be so modern in your thinking and still whisper, “oh, you know what, I think he is gay” in that holier-than-thou tone?

I don’t understand why two people can’t just fall in love with each other regardless of caste, religion, nationality and sex? 

I don’t understand why you have to hate something that you don’t even understand?

 How can you not love this?

or this?

And if you can't accept it, then it just means that you don't really understand what love is.
As simple as that.

C - Capsicum

Now I shall proceed to explain why C stands for such a weird thing in my book.

So it seems to me that I spend my entire life questioning myself, I often wonder if I am shallow.

Okay, so capsicum never has been a vegetable that was an active ingredient in anything at home during my formative years. But my first year in Bangalore, I met a crazy roommate (do you remember the one who head bangs?) who was/is a very VERY good cook. So much so that she and I planned to start a catering business to make some money on the side. The definition of mouth-watering Punjabi khana has a small picture of her standing with her hands on her hips next to it.

She used to make these amazing parathas of all sorts. My favorite became the ajwainwala paratha. And to go with it, she used to make a lot of curries, typically Punjabi, but what really had me on my knees was the alu ki sabzi. Big fat chunks of alu mixed up with fresh green capsicum and stirfried lightly in ghee with that typically North Indian masala - crunchy and melt in the mouth at the same time. In those moments when she was serving me that sabzi, she could asked me for my life aur main de bhi deti.

And guess what, it wasn't the alu that was the attraction, it was the capsicum. Needless to say, I was hooked to the vegetable.

And these days where I have to jhaelofy my own expertise in the culinary department which extends only to the occasional hit-or-miss pulao or the pray-that-it's-not-burnt suji ka halwa on special occasions when it comes to Indian cuisine, I often find myself missing her, despite the fact that we hate each other's guts and the last time we saw each other, we had to be pulled off of each other lest one kills the other. I actually miss her. And the capsicum. More the capsicum actually. Most, rather.

Now you see why I wonder if I'm delusional or just plain shallow. Sigh.

Of Temptations, Of Lure.

Prateek~
 
She was, by far, the most beautiful thing I had ever set my eyes on. The waist-length pitch black hair that had specks of brown when she turned against the sunlight, the denims hugging her curvy hips just right. And when she moved her hands around to illustrate a point of her animated conversation, a bit of creamy skin came into view as her flimsy top rose just a little. The rose bud lips which always sparkled with neon colored gloss were distracting to say the least, my proximity to them on an everyday basis was dangerous to my own sanity. And her long legs competed with a generous bust for attention – needless to say, she was a siren, a siren who held the heart of every man within a five mile radius captive.
 
But the eyes drew me to them – pitch black with flecks of grey, flecks that spoke of myriad emotions but always closely guarded. In those random moments that I would catch her absently staring into space in the cafeteria, I wondered what she was thinking, what she guarded so closely that those angelic black eyes did not reflect a soul.
 
I did not find it hard to believe that my brother had fallen head over heels for this bewitching creature.  

***
 
Poulami~
 
I looked at him longingly, he was just…so handsome, so smart and so much fun to be around. I don’t know if it was the fact that he was intelligent AND good-looking that kept drawing my gaze back to him or if it was that he was friendly to me and never anything more, despite my best efforts, that I wanted his undivided attention even more.
 
Yet, there was something mysterious about him, something a tad bit dangerous, a glint that indicated there was something more to the popular all-rounder that he was. Once, I’d caught sight of that look, just a shade of the devil, but it was gone before I could even register it was there. And right after, the dimpled smile would take over the chiseled features and my cause was lost.

***
 
Poulami~
 
It was the coldest, rainiest night in a really long while and Bangalore didn’t really feel like her own self. I’d spent the evening with cups of steaming masala chai and a Danielle Steele, curled comfortably on the wicker chair by the window. Occasionally, I looked out at the dimming light and traced droplet patterns on the misted up window, my thoughts straying to the past, the present and him. I wondered if anything would ever come to a head. 

I wasn’t the kind of a girl who sat back and watched things pass her by – I took charge and reached out for what I wanted. But asking him out, dropping hints, finding my way into his circle…. Nothing had worked. I wondered if I wanted to take things one step further and bed him – no man in his right senses would ever deny me that. But is that what I really wanted?
 
I started to feel like he was becoming an obsession.

***
 
She uncurled herself from the chair and went into the bedroom, the floor length mirror drew her to its beautiful reflection as she contemplated her own virtues. Well, if she could break someone’s heart just to better her own prospects, couldn’t she sleep with someone to make him hers? And it wasn’t like she would be settling for anything below her standards… he was hot. She sank into the bathtub, immersed in lukewarm water that smelt of lavender and thoughts of him.  
 
The doorbell rang at 12 in the night and her first thought was of imminent danger. She checked her phone to see if someone had messaged or called, but nothing… She ignored the bell and went back to toweling off. But it rang again.
 
She went to the door and peeped out through the hole – that is when her heart skipped a beat and her stomach knotted itself; she opened the bolts. There he was, six full feet of pure male, dripping wet from the incessant rains, radiating heat and intent clear in his darkened eyes.
 
Even Adonis couldn’t hold a candle to this specimen, she thought, as her breathing became a little difficult. 
 
***
 
Prateek~
 
Long legs dripping with water and the towel that barely covered anything looked like it was going to fall any second - she had probably been taking a shower. I couldn’t control myself anymore, she had been wreaking havoc in my life for far too long and I could care two hoots about the consequences.

***
 
Poulami~
 
Is he drunk? He has to be. Is he really here? I should go change into something more appropriate? But wait, isn’t this exactly what I wanted? I can’t believe he is here. Am I reading this wrong? Will he say something already? I could stand like this forever.
 
***
 

He caught her lithe body up in one swift motion and brought his lips down to meet hers with frenzied need, his minty breath obliterating whatever was left of her thought process. There was no surprise in her compliance but her breath caught…. And stayed there. She felt like a rag doll in his strong arms, her frailty struck him suddenly. 
 
He pushed her up against the wall next to the door and ravished the rose bud lips that had been occupying his thoughts. Her breath came in short gasps as she decided to take charge – her hands snaked into his thick, dark hair as she pulled closer and she was rewarded by the widening of his eyes.
 
The door was banged shut.  

Should I stop?
No…..!!
 
They tripped and twisted their way to the bed, they barely made it there. The perfect curves that he had spent a long time watching now became putty in his hands as she sighed and surrendered to his iron will. His strong, broad chest crushed her under its weight as they tripped and fell onto the white sheets, a tangle of arms and legs and promise-laden breaths.
 
He was not an obsession. She had finally found someone worth falling in love with.  
She couldn’t wait. Neither could he.
There were no games played, no plays made, no coyness, no explanations. 
Just plain, raw need.  

She started seeing stars under his expert ministrations and her whole world exploded into a million galaxies of stardust.  

That was the moment he chose to drive the knife straight to her heart, that black heart. He took it out and drove it in again. And again.
 
The stars that she had been seeing turned a bloody, bloody red as her orgasm turned into painful surprise. And then shock.  

You broke my brother.
You drove him to the grave.
All on a whim?
You don’t deserve to live.
You don’t even deserve a decent death.

He spat, wiped his tear-streaked face and left. 

***
 
No one went to her funeral. No one ever found him again.  

Smitten....

You know you are a greedy child. You want all the love and all the warmth and you know you don’t want to share.

You can hear him humming in the washroom, almost picture him dancing in the shower with the shampoo bottle for a mike and you smile even when you are half asleep. When he comes out, he tells you to wake up and plays “All of me, loves all of you”. Not that you specifically love the song but you like how he gets to the ‘all your curves and edges…” bit and looks at your face with feeling. You smile dismissively and cuddle into the covers till it’s a tangle of fair arms, dark legs, stubble and pink-tipped nails but…

… You know you are a greedy child, a greedy child who wants a few more moments of the quiet and cozy and John Legend crooning voice even when running late. 

You are chattering away, in the middle of animated conversation about your favorite topic and all your friends laughing at your jokes but you still want his undivided attention when you are around. And you throw a make-believe fit. And he knows that it’s a make-believe fit. He puts up with all the teasing that your friends put him through with that smile on his face, all because of the undivided attention that he gives you, and mouths ‘I love you’ secretly right before leaving. You don’t reply because you want your friends to think you are the cool one, the one who doesn’t obsess over the boyfriend but….

… You know you are a greedy child, a greedy child who loves that he loves you and secretly prays that he never becomes un-smitten. 

You bang on the door when he’s busy with something else, demanding that he deem your new dress pretty.  He ‘hmmms’ you first and then quickly snaps out of his reverie knowing that you’ll pout at his distractedness. He feels the silken hem and runs his hands over the fitted waist all the way to the lace trim at the shoulder, conveying how sexy he thinks you look without words, without even glances. He finds the perfect balance to deal with your constant switches between the child you want to be and the woman you really are. You never make a big deal out of how much he spoils you, you tell him it’s his duty, that it is the price he pays to be with the awesomeness that is you but..

…  You are secretly doing the happy dance because you are a greedy child, a greedy child who is glad to have someone do all the things you have always wanted Prince Charming to do but is too independent and grown-up to actually say it out loud. 

You know you are a greedy child. You want all the love and all the warmth and all the attention but you know you don’t want to share. And here he is giving you all that you wanted. And then some.

Enough to make even you want to share.

P.S: Inspired by this gem.