Being five

Dear Mom and Dad,
As you have probably forgotten, it is my birthday today. I am five years old now. Please donot think that I'm angry with you or anything. After the really horrible (Sharon uses that word, she says it means 'really bad') fight you both had last night, I didn't think you would remember.
Teacher Susie says five is a big age, so I'm a big girl now. So I figured that I should be able to understand what you always said, 'You're too small to understand this'.
I asked my new best friend Jenny (she's really sweet, she gave me her pink ballet shoes for a day!) why you both fight so much. She said you were under 'divorce'. I didn't understand what she meant by that word, so I Googled it up. Divorce means 'final termination of a marrage..'.
I didn't know what termination meant, and then I got bored, so I left that and went to Sharon's house to play dress up. But now, I wanna ask you both, are you under divorce?
Please tell me, so that I can tell Jenny what the truth is.

This time, I don't want any pink skirt or shoes. I want a puppy. I've even found out the breed I want, so that you don't have to waste time doing that. I know you both are very busy. I want a cute little Labrador. A golden one. Did you know that Sharon just got one for herself, and named him Shadow? He's so cute, I want one too!
I've completed my Math homework, and I'm finishing up this letter too.
I've not even made any spelling mistakes this year, unlike the last year, when I spelled understand as 'unerstand'.
I love you both, so please donot fight on my birthday.
Love, Kelly.

Maid Of Honour

My alarm sounded at its usual time that morning. I woke up hastily, and lulled my young one into slumber, satisfied that he had done his job of waking me up by howling his heart out.

It was dawn.
An urban alarm clock was something beyond my understanding. My two year old was assigned the duty of waking me up every morning. As I walked towards the slum bore well, I felt happy that my son was already a responsible lad, even when he couldn’t speak properly. I hurriedly washed myself and made my way back to my shack. My breadwinner lay there deeply engrossed in his dreams of fairyland, as I prepared myself for the drudgery that was about to begin. I changed my sari with the only other one I had, that was hanging on the wire in my shack, from one corner to another. I quickly shook my elder daughter out of her sleep, and pushed her out of the hut, so she could freshen up. In the meanwhile, I kneaded some dough and baked some rotis for my husband, who slept in undisturbed peace. I carelessly kept some milk in a tiny glass, for my two year old when he would be awake. With that done, I rushed outside and stole a pair of slippers from my neighbor’s house, and walked away. I knew there would be a long battle of words over the same when I would come back, but I had no other way to save myself from blisters in the scorching heat. On my way, I saw my ten year old daughter chatting up with a friend of hers, and I went up to her and deposited a tight slap on her face. I chided her for wasting time when we had none, and ordered her to immediately accompany me to work. When she tried to reason, I pulled her by the arm and walked away with no further explanations. The last thing I wanted my daughter to do was spend her day gossiping her heart out.
Work was just a ten minute walk away for me, but light years away from my life. It consisted of towering buildings and mansion like houses, something that I don't even dare to dream about. As I reached my workplace and rang the doorbell, my daughter begged to be left alone. My motherly pangs of affection were just about to let her walk away from this torture, when the door opened and my employer stared at me with angry eyes. I forgot all about being a mother, and stepped in with my daughter cowering behind me. The day of drudgery had begun.
‘You have decided to come late every day, and you think I’ll tolerate this kind of behavior?’ my employer barked, as she peered at my daughter’s tiny figure hiding behind my thin frame.
I mentally wondered how I had run late when my alarm had rung correctly, and I had done every activity after that with a quick pace. I confidently told my employer that I couldn’t be late.
‘Oh, so the clock in my house is lying? Don't give me such weird excuses, and get to work right now!’
I mumbled a curse under my breath, and turned to look at my daughter who seemed frightened. I whispered something into her miniature ear, and advanced towards the kitchen to do my job. Wash the utensils.
From the corner of my eye, I saw my daughter pick up the broom and make her way to the farthest room of the big house. The delicacy of her tiny hands contrasted very well with the rashness of the broom. As I picked up the first glass and applied soap on it, my daughter was stopped by my employer and told to keep down the broom.
I rushed to her defense and held her hand in full support as the lady spoke in a surly tone, her bespectacled glare making her look like a tyrannous monster.
‘How can you make her work? NO. She’s not going to do your share of work. If you can’t do your job, then leave it. But nobody else is going to do it for you!’
I stared at her face for some time in utter disappointment, and realized it wouldn’t be of any use arguing with her. The monster probably derived pleasure out of watching me slog in her house, and couldn’t tolerate the fact that I could use some help.
I patted my burden on her back and told her to wait outside the house till I finished the work. She stared at me with innocent eyes, and walked away.
I resumed washing the utensils as I recalled the day my daughter was born. My husband couldn’t be found and so my neighbors helped me give birth to her. They had to arrange for a dai at the last minute, because my husband vanished just two days before the delivery. My in-laws had expressed sheer disappointment upon giving birth to a girl, and had left me weak and unattended because of the same. Seema was born malnourished, and weighed quite less. As she grew up, I came to realize that she was a weak child, and couldn’t lift the burden of going to school and studying. Studying, after all, is a very tough task and she wouldn’t be able to do it at all. So it was decided that Seema would help me in my work, till she turned sixteen and then she would be married off to a nice household. Till then Seema was a burden I had to bear. But what my employer did was an act of pure insanity and meanness. She probably doesn’t realize that not allowing my daughter to work meant lesser money, which means I can’t save up for my son’s education.
Rich people can never understand.
I went on to sweep the floors of the lady’s house where she lived a lavish life with her two daughters. Apparently her husband worked elsewhere. As I swept one of the daughters’ rooms, I was rebuked by the lady for not doing my work properly. I argued with her for five minutes trying to tell her that I was doing my best, but then kept quiet lest she fired me. I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
Soon I was out of one monster’s house and was walking towards another monster’s house. Unfortunately, there was a hoard of guests at their house, which meant a million utensils for me to wash. As I washed glasses and spoons and cookers and crockery, I wondered if my son would be awake by now. He was a darling, but I never had the opportunity of spending quality time with him. He was probably sipping the milk I had kept for him, now. My thoughts were broken as a glass plate fell from hands and broke into pieces. Monster Two barged into the kitchen with fuming red eyes, and blazed at me for having committed the gravest crime of all times. As I tried to apologize for my mistake, she threatened to deduct money from my salary. I whined in front of her like a baby, and she excused my mistake after showering me with choicest abuses and walked away. I sadly continued working, and left the house with dejection being the prime emotion on my face.
It was lunchtime. I walked back to my house with quick steps, as my daughter tried to keep pace with me. She kept asking me irrelevant questions about this and that, which I answered mindlessly. My heart was actually longing for my beloved son, whom I cuddled to death when I saw him trotting on the road with that tiny shirt on him.
I fed him some boiled pulses, and kissed him a million times before I left for work again.
I told Seema to look after him, and even serve my husband if he came home for lunch. That drunkard.
Work was the same old song again. Monster number three reprimanded me for trying to break the handle of her cooker, as she thought that would make her give the cooker to me, which she said was my real aim. God!
Monster number four hinted that she thought I was being paid a tad too much and she should probably pay me a little less.
I smiled to everything and made my way to the last monster. Nothing mattered to me more than finishing my work and going back home.
But monster number five was probably disapproving of my intentions, and so she created the worst ruckus she could have.
As I swept her room with undeterred honesty and sincerity, she came up to me and demanded to frisk me. I suddenly froze, and demanded to know the reason for such disrespect.
‘Disrespect? What happened to your respect when you stole my clip and took away my hairbrush home with you yesterday? You think I don't know anything? You greedy and selfish people will never learn to be honest! Stupid thieves!’

A sense of self-esteem suddenly came over me. It was as if my soul was crying its heart out at being accused of thievery. I shouted at my employer with anger in my bloodshot eyes, and told her in plain words that I hadn’t done it.
‘That’s it! I won’t take in anymore! I haven’t stolen anything from your house, and how much ever you might want to blame it on me, I will NOT admit to this! And I won’t work in a place where people think I’m a thief! I’m leaving!’
With those words of pride and self respect, I left the house turning a deaf ear to all that Monster number five said to me after that. For a nanosecond, the realization of losing a house’s work pricked me, but it was soon overpowered by my need to be respected for who I was.
My steps quickened as I began to near my house. Tears started welling up in my eyes, as I turned across a bend and entered my house. My son clung onto me immediately, and I sobbed as I hugged him. I wept at what life was doing to me.
Thievery? Was that what people thought I did?
I wept even more when Seema asked me if I was okay. I nodded to make her feel fine, but deep down I wanted to cling onto someone and cry my heart out. I wiped my tears and pasted a plastic smile on my face, so that my children would smile. They smiled, and Seema told me very casually that the neighbors had shouted at her for having stolen their slippers, and that her father hadn’t been home since afternoon.
I swallowed that bit of news and stared into the falling night. I needed him, and he wasn’t there like always.
As I put my children to bed after feeding them on leftover pulses and rotis, I sighed at my life. When they went off to sleep, I went to my neighbors’ house and left their slippers there. Then I walked to the roadside bench, with sore eyes and a sullen face.
I stared at the tiny stars in the sky, and wondered if I mattered even that much to anyone.

Was anyone bothered?
Did anyone care about what had happened today? Any day?
When there came no answer, I walked back to my shack and lay down.
I forced my eyelids into sleep.
My kids still needed to be fed, after all.
Tomorrow still had four monsters in the waiting, after all.

The Love Of My Life

Note: This is the ugliest thing I've ever written, not literarily but emotionally. I have hated myself for writing it. But still, I'm posting it for some reason. Please don't hate me after reading it. It's unethical, it's wrong, and I know it. And lastly, nothing about it is true.
Please forget it if you hate it.

‘Papa, hurry up! I don't want to miss the bus again!’ my son cried from the doorway, as I rushed to grab a muffler for myself.
My wife hurriedly handed over his tiffin box to me, and leaned forward from the kitchen door for a peck. The love of my life she was.
I backed off, unusually startled, and scurried off to the door without looking back. I heard her chuckle, and was relieved she didn’t take it too seriously.
Rohan made a grumpy face, as I clutched his hand and we began to walk toward his bus stop. I ruffled his hair with affection, as he skipped along, gripping with excitement. His school was taking him for a picnic to Lodhi Garden.
I could die for that smile on his tiny face. Priceless.
As his bus stop came closer, my pace quickened. I wanted to reach there fast. I kept touching my muffler again and again; making sure it wasn’t looking shabby.
I was glad Rohan wasn’t asking me his usual silly questions. Like why do dogs look down, and why do ditches stink and why does winter feel cold.
Of late they had begun to irritate me, instead of amusing me.
I shrugged as I wondered why.
We reached the bus stop fifteen minutes earlier than the scheduled time, because apparently, I had made Rohan miss his bus yesterday, dilly dallying at home. Rohan had used these words.
I felt like an idiot standing there with my dreamy son, when nobody was to be seen on the roads. We had no companions, but even the other school kids weren’t to be seen.
Not even her.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, than I saw her tiny figure appear from the bend down the road.
It would take her about five minutes to reach here.
Five minutes, twenty three seconds, to be precise.
As I looked on, numb; Rohan caught hold of my hand, all of a sudden. I shook, as if I’d been snapped out of a dream. A stray dog, probably on its morning walk, had scared my son.
My son.
I held him closer to myself, to reassure myself, more than him.
I had a kid.
Nevertheless, I looked up.
I could see her face very clearly now. From the last few days I’d spent thinking of her, I’d concluded that she was probably in her last year of schooling,
That sway in her walk, that emptiness of her bag, that blue kajal that was so intoxicatingly magnetic, those lanky footsteps, and those dirty shoes – they explained a lot of things.
She came nearer with every passing second.
And she looked straight into my eyes.
I missed a beat, as she walked past me.
I still had my eyes closed, and was still overcoming the effect of her presence, when I heard her say, ‘Good morning!’
I turned around. So did Rohan.
Her smile froze me. I searched for words, but they wouldn’t come out. And I meekly wished her back. I then drew my son closer.
She smiled again, and then made her way to her bus stop, five meters away from mine.
I mean, from Rohan’s.
Rohan.
He looked at me puzzled. He then glanced at her, and then back at me. Then he promptly asked, ‘Do you know her?’
I ruffled his hair once again and said, ‘No. But when someone says good morning, always wish back. It is good manners. Only bad boys don't wish back.’
He contemplated on what I said, as I did too, and then enquired, ‘But why did she say good morning?’
I went speechless for a minute.
I next heard a screeching of brakes, and my son hurried away to board his school bus, that stood in front of me. I waved a mechanical bye to him.
My five year old asked difficult questions.

I sighed as I turned to go back home. Time for office.
Then I stopped, and turned to look at her.
She was looking at me intently.
She blushed pink and turned away, and pretended to take out some notebook from her bag.
I turned away too.

I jogged my way back to the house, perspiring in the bitter cold.
My wife was ready to leave for work. She gave me an alluring smile from the sofa, where she sat and sipped that wonderful coffee that she makes.
I smiled back wryly.
The love of my life she was.

Five days couldn’t wreck these blissful five years.
They wouldn’t.

I went up to her, and planted a kiss on her lips.
I love you, I said to her, more for me to listen.

She hugged me, and a serene smile swept across my face.
Yes, they wouldn’t.

P.S. : Told you. Please don't hate me like I did when I wrote it.

Unfolded

Part VII

I scared you to your wits’ end,
I acted violent, mad, insane…
I pulled your hair and slapped you hard,
Thankfully, my sin didn't go in vain.

The next morning, when I returned,
I hoped not to see you there,
And I was the happiest when it happened,
You had gone, no matter where…

My life, now just had one purpose,
To wait for your return…
I gave up everything for just this day,
What life meant, I had to learn.

At times I felt you’d never come back,
And my sins would never be washed away,
But perhaps He has forgiven me,
As you turned up, today.

I needn’t ask for forgiveness,
As now I know, I’m forgiven,
I see a self made human in front of me…
Why should I weep and cry, then?

I shook with fear once again,
As he looked at me intensely,
My life, my existence, I owed to someone,
Someone, who’d also, marred my destiny.

I looked away, thoroughly taken aback,
The harsh truth had left me numb,
A decision, I had to make right now,
To emotional conflicts, I wouldn’t succumb.

P.S: Gosh! Just one more to go... :)

Unfolded

Part VI

It was a photograph, in black and white,
Him and my father in their best smiles,
It was one of the friendliest poses,
And completely shook my understanding of life…

‘You were perhaps too small to know,
That your father had a best friend…
A best friend who had been to jail thrice,
In the world of crime, his life he had spent.’

‘Your parents had to pay the price,
For all the sins that I had committed,
As my enemies stabbed them both that night,
The night after which they never returned.’

‘I couldn’t save them, they lay dead,
As I repented being a criminal;
I spent the two days just like you did,
Sobbing, hungry, tired and feeble…’

‘When I finally mustered up the courage,
To go and see you, and tell you the truth,
I saw you begging, and being kicked out,
And the helpless sight sealed my mouth.’

I stood in one corner and thought,
What I could do for you,
And then realized that my world of crime,
Didn’t leave space for adopting kids like you…

Moreover, you were a girl,
And my world was full of animals and beasts,
You wouldn’t be spared even for a fortnight,
My mind’s working completely ceased.

And then for the only time in my life,
I looked at the sky and said a prayer,
I begged Him to show me the way,
Your life, your future – I did care…

And then, something struck my mind,
It seemed to be the only way out…
It was also the biggest crime of my life,
But the only solution, the only way out…

P.S :To be continued...

Unfolded

Part IV

I ran as fast as my legs could,
Not once did I look back,
The fear gave me strength to run…
Away from my home, my slum, my shack…

When I finally stopped myself,
I had come a long way from home,
And here, in the city, I carved myself,
From pavements and shops…to a bed of foam…

People were nice, god was finally kind,
I made myself a new person forever,
But deep down, I still yearned to know…
Who turned that day of my life into a terror…?

My steps would want to go to that house,
And my heart would want to follow in line,
But the thought of meeting that man again,
Sent a shudder down my spine…

But thirty years later, I finally conceded,
And gave up everything, and walked…
I was fed up of that ‘why’ in my life,
I wanted answers, doors unlocked…

There wasn't any need to ask for the way,
As everyday, I saw it in my dreams,
And there, I landed in the past,
My eyes didn't shine, my eyes didn't gleam…

The toy gun fell from my hands.
And I came back, eyes moist,
I noticed now, that the slum was empty,
Not a single sound, except mine.

I tried to look for a breathing soul,
Someone who could give me my answers,
And then, I felt a hand on my shoulder,
It was the same hand, the same fingers…

P.S: To be continued...
P.S: Umm...I just discovered, there are 8 (not 6) parts to the poem. I duly apologise for such torture...which by the way, DOES NOT mean I'm not going to post them all.. :P

Unfolded

Part III

A six year old, I must have been,
Unaware of what destiny meant,
How a regular market walk would turn into a disappearance,
Is something, I had never even dreamt.

I touched the broken thing with a shiver,
As I recalled that scary night…
Three days had passed; I was hungry and tired,
And I begged my neighbors for a bite…

I whined and sobbed and cried and wept,
As they drove me away one by one,
I begged from one house to another,
And tried to distract myself with my toy gun.

After long, I felt a hand on my shoulder
I rejoiced; they had come back, returned!
But then, I felt someone pull my locks,
And a huge slap, I earned.

He snatched my toy gun, and held me tight,
He dragged me through the way,
I shrieked with fear and utmost disgust,
As he got me home, and walked away.

Puzzled, I ran after him,
And held him by the hand,
He threw me to one side of my room,
I saw the toy gun, now broken, beside me land…

He latched the door, and went away,
As I sat there nursing my wounded hand,
I knew I couldn’t live here anymore,
His coming back, I couldn’t stand…

I looked around nervously,
And saw the window, open, free…
Not once thinking of what I was doing,
I made my life’s biggest leap…

P.S : To be continued...

Unfolded

Part II

As I tried to open that brown and broken door,
A whiff of smells gathered about me,
The smell of the creeper that grew there long ago,
And the smell of mother-cooked food that I relished with glee…

Cobwebs covered the hinges now,
No more did it seem welcoming enough,
Apprehensively, I pushed it apart,
My home, my house – overcoming nostalgia is tough…

I saw a tiny me over there,
Sitting on the floor and uttering gibberish,
Across me, sat she, my creator…
Listening to me – no matter however childish…

I felt like standing there forever,
But I had come with a purpose here…
I ventured into the house like a stranger,
When I knew its every nook and corner.

My father’s study table still stood there,
And there he was - his bespectacled face…
He called to me, with loving hands,
As I stood there, shocked, amazed…

I blinked my eyes rapidly,
As I reached the final room,
This was what I never wanted to do,
This room, held everything responsible for my gloom…

Bravely, I opened that last door,
Bracing myself for the ultimate breakdown…
It seemed as if I was thirty years back,
When this room was my world, my country, my town…

Everything lay as it is, no tampering whatsoever,
My Barbie doll, my car, my book,
Each thing seemed so completely mine,
Except one thing, which I saw, and shook…


P.S : To be continued...

Unfolded

Part I

A feeble step in the dingy lanes,
A scared look at the filth around me,
I was as nervous as a new born child,
That night – it was as scary as could be…

It was a search in vain – I knew,
But my last try to rebuild my past.
In these dark slums and dirty shacks,
Memories of my childhood would forever last.

The innocence of my goofy smile,
Had been lost in this hut I stood before,
The day my parents just never returned,
And the last time I saw that shapeless door.

Thirty years, and I decided to return,
Looking for a familiar face, thing, place…
The life I had lived wasn't gratifying enough,
My parents’ existence, I had to trace.

My past was better than the present
And I wanted it back at any cost,
I had to dig up lots of buried truths now,
No matter, if my identity would be lost…

It was enlightenment, salvation perhaps,
This was what life had decided for me,
My life, an unsolved mystery till today,
Would be revealed, after years – so many…


P.S: To be continued...
P.P.S : I'm sorry for my long absence from the blog world. I just got bored of life. Thankfully I'm back.

That unlikely father...

He played with me.
He tied my laces for me.
He helped me get over with my leg pains.
He told me stories at bed time.


My father was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

Being a victim of a metropolitan city life, I expected parents who had full time jobs, and practically no time for their little kid. And here I was, a father beside me…always willing to answer my weirdest questions, at any hour in the night.
I was a lost, dreamy kid who got the wildest dreams in the whole universe. But of course, my father was always there, when I used to suddenly wake up at odd hours, and cry out to him. He was interested in knowing what had troubled me, and then I would blurt it out to him, about how a cow had threatened me to snatch away my food and force me to gulp down its dry bread crumbs in exchange.
It didn't really bother me how he reacted to my tantrums, but the fact that he used to bear with them all, was enough.


He used to buy me chips whenever I asked for them. And of course, our outings were incomplete without a snack or two…
Life seemed perfect with my father.

I felt proud when other sissy girls of my age cribbed about their snoring dads and their weird ways…MY dad wasn’t in the least like them…

Mom was there obviously, but that was different. With dad, it was always, all about me. What I like, what I love, who I like, who I adore.

I grew up, and stuff changed.

Dad was never the same again. Or let me put it the other way; WE were never the same again. My friends changed, my life changed, my priorities changed.

His presence in my life lessened, as the year went by.
Obviously his stories weren’t required anymore.
His games didn't really excite me.
I could overcome my leg pains on my own.
And I preferred sleeping alone, than listen to his bed time stories.

However, we still adored each other. He was THE most important part of my life. He was all that mattered to me.

And one day, he just vanished.

Schizophrenia, said the doctors.

And since they had practically no better way to sort out stuff, they tagged me as a mental patient.

The irony being that this wasn’t a figment of a child’s imagination.

Who I considered father all these years…existed…lived…breathed…

The only difference being, that he existed just for me.