I Miss You, Ma

जो भी हूँ 
तेरा बच्चा हूँ माँ।
तेरा हाथ सुकून की डाली है
पतझड़ में छत
नींद वाली थपकी।
वो तेरा
गाल खींचकर प्यार जताना।

तुम नहीं हो यॅहा 
पर आदत से मजबूर हूँ?
काश तुम से लिपटकर 
तुम्हारे चले जाने पर रो पाती
थोड़ी इमोशनल हूँ ।
जो भी हूँ 
तेरा ही तो बच्चा हूँ, माँ।

From HOUSE to HOME:The Journey without Her

There is something so welcoming about coming back to your home after a long tiring day at the office or a vacation. Going out seems fun and exciting, but coming back home is something that we long for. The comfort of those four walls is irreplaceable. However, coming back to that very house caused ache in my heart now. Every turn that we took on the roads of Delhi, inching closer to the house, my breath got choked within.

My hands seemed painfully heavy even though I had immersed the ashes of my late mother into the Holy Ganges at the Tulsi Ghat in Varanasi. It was perhaps the absence that stung more. There, the last turn and we were there at the entrance of the house.

I was asked to wait outside the gate for yet another ritual. As I stood, I looked at the black iron door that had begun to rust from the sides. The rustic redness of her lips appeared into my vision and the familiarity threatened to choke me again. She’d pestered me to make a name plate for the house and I’d procrastinated so much that eventually the matter was simply forgotten. The blank space on the door mocked me now.

The rituals were done with and finally, we entered.

I was greeted by the wall in our drawing room, yellow and bright smeared by a huge collage of my parent’s recent trip to Holland. The 49yr old lady seemed blossoming. Who would believe that she wasn’t alive? I’d never see her smile and giggle like a child, or touch her baby cheeks.

Tears stung my eyes.

I went to her room and closed the door behind me. My family understood the message clearly and did not interfere. And there it was, “her space”. I saw it and only then believed it. Until then, I always thought that a house becomes home willingly. That you could befriend a house and any space could be your space.

But then, there are some spaces that are exclusive. That smell of you, reflect your tastes, introduce you to the world and make others realise of your absence when you’re not there.

I keep going back to her space. Looking at that space makes me happy and sad both. Happy because it reminded me of her, her hugs, her smile, the way she’d half-lie, half-sit… the manner in which she’d call out my name from there.. Sad because all of it would never be real again but only become fragments of memories we’d made.

However, I am grateful. Grateful for this space, this house which she turned into a home. For her husband, her kids. To keep her alive among us, to live laugh and cry together. With her and without her.

I wish to thank Housing for the prompt .

Pre-Marital Sex: Love Lust or Luck? Who decides

Sex

  S.e.x

     S  e  x

Sex.. Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s talk about it. Oh, not so loud? In hushed tones, discreet coded words and whispers?

Why?

Because it is something we are ashamed of doing..thinking..imagining..talking?

And if talking of sex isn’t bad enough, I happen to be too young to talk of it? Not married, but crossed puberty! Ah! Like the “khuli tijori” , “ghodi bina lagaam”, “kali kawari” tags that the society entails upon us, we’re utterly vulnerable, on the verge of tearing the hymen at any pretext, we love having chowmein and listening to songs sung by hot guys and chicks ..

Well… wake up!

No, seriously?! At an era when a girl reaches puberty at even 10 or 11years of age, we can tell her what menstruation is but not tell her why it happens? What is the process of conception of human beings and that we do not fall from the sky or that angels don’t fly us down from the Heaven! Moreover, we expect that in this day and age where internet is our biggest saviour, children won’t know what is porn, chatting, or won’t enrol into social networking sites? Is that even possible?

Even doctors tell us that sexual thought and sexual consciousness is an inevitable part of growing up. Our body develops and certain changes take place that heighten our inquisitiveness about them. It is a natural phenomenon!

These feelings are further stressed upon by factors such as internet, peers, media, films etc. However, the important point here is that “sex” is not just a social construct but rather a biological one that is innate to a human.

When all of this is so clear to us then what fails to make sense to me is that why this emphasis on “virginity”? Post the advent of globalisation, liberalisation phenomena, men and women have come together to build a strong global economy which includes a lot of hard work, dedication and commitment. Hence, it is understandable that career has taken a step ahead in the list of priorities for both men and women.

In such circumstances, as a consequence marriage has taken a back seat. People have started marrying late and focus on being stable before getting married. However this does not mean that they don’t think of sex, or don’t feel the need for love, intimacy and companionship! Like I mentioned earlier, it is a biological process. Then what is it that we want when we say that “pre-marital sex is a sin/taboo” or that “pre-marital sex is all about the body and not the heart and thus only lust”?

Such a mentality only reflects how we have moved on with developments while we have kept one foot still at the crease. How will we move ahead in that case? Let us not forget that it is pre-marital sex and not pre-martial sex. Blowing things out of proportion only leads to its bursting off loud, right?

I understand the complexities of pre-marital sex. I am also aware of how hot this topic is; one mention of it and the world comes running to you with an opinion. The point is that irrespective of who think what and in spite of who thinks whether premarital sex comes within the ambit of moral and ethical conduct of the society or not, it is and it should be entirely up to two adult individuals to agree on whether to have a sexual intercourse or not.

And no, a sexual intercourse does not necessarily have to lead to marriage and kids and old age. It can just be an expression of love between two consenting individuals and that’s that!

I threw this topic up to a bunch of my girlfriends- over texts, whatsapp, and even when I met some of them. Almost 80% of them had not had sexual intercourse yet. However, about 90% of them had had making out sessions, most of them had embarrassing ones or quickies and they wished they had felt more comfortable during them. Out of fifteen of them, only 5 admitted to masturbation while some others had doubts regarding it. A common question to them was..

If they were given a comfortable environment, say a room minus the hassles of the inquiry in hotels or interference of parents or their attitude towards an unmarried couple in a closed room, would they have had sex with their partner?

Almost all of them agreed, and the ones who said no, said so because they didn’t trust their partner that much, which is totally ok and in fact, good. One of my older friends in fact retorted, “One must be open for sex. In fact, if you fall in love with a guy and end up sleeping with him, don’t end up marrying him please!” That was an interesting analysis coming from her because she is herself married. She explained, “See, after you sleep with a man, he thinks, if you have slept with him, there are chances that you may have done so before as well; as if you’ve always been open to it!”
I asked how that was a problem. She may have been in love before! Even he could have, right?
“Hahaha, for a boy it doesn’t matter whether he sleeps with one woman or a hundred. But a woman can’t. It then affects her character. He may end up marrying her, but he won’t respect her like before. He’ll doubt her somewhere in his mind. And no, there are no exceptions!”

Well, that’s some food for thought, ladies and gentlemen! I do not know how true or false this perspective is! If you have an opinion regarding it, let me know..!

Sex is part of our palette of things..along with the basic necessities of life..roti ..kapda and makaan..

While I am all for it, I do think that is a very important decision. One must be fully aware of the physical and emotional circumstances and must know how to deal with them. They should go ahead only when they want to and trust their partner enough. Also, all precautions must be taken with great care and knowledge about the repercussions.

While the society should not judge people on the basis of their sexual virginity (virginity of the mind , well yes, now that must be explored further! J), even we as responsible adults should make decisions that do not cause us problems later on. Whatever we do in life, regret must not be one of them! Love is a beautiful feeling and there is nothing wrong with sex, premarital or otherwise. It should not be forced, it should not insult, hurt or degrade others (by that I do not mean don’t make love because Mr.Sharma doesn't want you to have sex and you having sex may hurt his sentiments.. That’s just crass!) Jeeyo and Jeene do, is the clear funda. And yes, please spare us from the weirdest forms of embarrassing PDAs(Public Display of Affection) and seriously guys, GO GET A ROOM ! J

This post has been written for the prompt “Pre-marital sex- Yes or No” hosted by Indiblogger in association with Poonaam Uppal, who has written a book regarding the same theme, A Passionate Gospel of True Love-A true Love Story . Do check the book out and if you liked this post, leave in a comment! J Thank you!
If you are an Indi-Blogger then please do vote for my post HERE . You're awesome! J

Happy Kids make Happy Homes!

When two people get married, a family is born.

When a child is born, a family is complete.

The child is that one last brick in the wall that constitutes home.. family.. relations. A mother is born, so is  a father. Her tears, sorrows, rashes, sleepless nights, hunger pangs, fevers, injections, first Barbie, calling teddy bears with different names—her experiences become ours!

She is that one bout of happiness that bursts into our mundane existence and we then realise, what we were missing. When my little sister (well, she isn’t that little anymore, but she will always be my little one for me!) was born, God forbid..I hated her!

I had seen my mother go through so much pain for her..the swollen feet, her intense mood swings and nausea, the insulin injections my mother had to inject into her stomach directly for three times every day for months! But then there was that one moment when she was carefully put into my arms, as my grandmother feared I’d drop her for my vengeance!

Well, I do not blame her. I almost felt like doing it. And just then, my sister feebly settled herself into my hands and yawned like she was in the most comfortable and warm bed ever. Perhaps it was that moment that I fell in love with my sister.

When a child entrusts his/her well-being in your hands, it can boost your confidence and happiness to a new zing-level! From that moment on, I did all of what I could have for her. I did try my best to do so. And it has been almost 13 years of doing just that and a little more..

Last week, I got to know that a friend of mine died of a brain haemorrhage. He was in the hospital for quite some time now. However, it left a crappy feeling within me..That guy was my childhood friend. What I felt was not grief entirely, it was the realisation that he was of my age..just 23!

Then I got to know how he was into drugs and alcohol.

I have no qualms against alcohol consumption though I desist drugs of any kind. Occasional drinks are fine, but when a child enters college, he tends to overdo such habits what his peers may call “cool” or the “in” thing. This is where parents, friends-his support system comes to the picture. I’ll always wonder whether Sanjay would have been alive today if I’d kept in touch with him and perhaps stopped him from the over-indulgence. We’ll never know if Aunty’s ignorance regarding his drinking habits had cost them this loss! Or Uncle's indulgence by giving him money, car, etc dug the grave deeper..!

The “what if’s” and the “maybe’s”  always haunt us. Regardless, we must with hope and concern be there for our family and even though the young ones need to flock out of home towards new horizons, it is imperative for the family to be the air beneath their wings.

I came back home with a bottle of olive oil, Dabur Chyawanprash and her favorite pack of kitkat; and saw  my sister gurgling with laughter watching some cartoon programme. She saw me, and ran to me and gave me a big hug. And then, as if to calm me down, she petted me as if I were a kid. Understanding the turmoil that I had been seething with. And in that moment, I found my calm.

The kids are much more aware of things than we were. We've got to move step in step with them.

It is important to be friends with the youth than to question their faith. It is a process towards the natural evolution of humankind.

This post has been written for the Indiblogger write-up on :

"A healthy child makes a happy home"

By Dabur Chyawanprash

POETRY: Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Tangerine Trees and Marmalade Skies Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The marks we human leave

are too often scars,

like the creases on the sheets

where our skins spoke.

Making babies to memories

we never believed we could fly!

Tangerine trees and marmalade skies

whoever believed in goodbyes?

You staring at me, how can I forget the sight

the moment I thought, you'd say the words

I had longed to hear, you grunted, "I need a cigarette."

And never came back that night.

Sickly deranged, I do find that one blissful moment

when I wake up, first thing in the morning

I feel nothing, a sense of calm; it is

relieving to become a blank slate, innocent like a child-

All at once.

"I look so fat", "I am so vain"

learning lessons of self-worth by every strike.

Whoever said you only love once,

never tasted his own tears of pride.

Why can we not hold each other, without defining

who we are, how we belong; why do

us holding hands, make no sense when we say we're friends still?

It all makes me wonder if the sun is ever sad.

Are.Were.Will Be..

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I told him he wasn't a part of my life. But he was.


That he didn't matter and wasn't my problem. And yet he continued to be so.


When he had me, he used me. When he didn't, he craved for me.


I was like the most prized possession and yet a thing, but a thing?


Some say, I made him the man he is. But it has been a while I went away.


Why would he be this way, when I am only but a memory to him, or not 

even that?

He got into love of a new kind, I never let him back, even as a friend.

There was too much to not speak of, not hear, not feel in between.

I am asked, sometimes with angry eyes of friends mutual or exclusive,

Do I still miss him? Does he still cross my mind?

Of course he does, I did love him once and love never dies.

Unless it is throttled done, but which still survives.

I am listening to his voice tonight, crackling in between as he sips his scotch.

The telephone slips from my hand, the effort to hold on is too prune for our minds.

I still wait in earnest hope, to hear the voice of a gentle boy I once knew

But what I hear are the cries of a man, who built himself up and got wasted too soon.

Maa and I

I was getting late. The bus driver had scowled and told me to be on time. Maa, had been taking a longer time than usual. 


Me: Maa, deri hocche! (Maa, it's getting late!)


Maa: Dara shona, dui minute! (Wait my dear, coming in two minutes)


I snarled. When will Maa understand the deliquescent nature of my work! I am not her darling little girl anymore. I have a boss to answer. She just does not understand! 
This is not the first time! She always keeps calling me from the back, making me sip coconut water or chai, eating marie biscuits or toasts.
If I am hungry, I'll eat! Why does she have to make a scene all the time!


I begin to leave, just like every other day. But it wasn't like any other ordinary day.


I sighed, as I came back to my senses. Maa had passed away two days back, peacefully in her sleep.I'd been out for work, while she'd probably expected me to be there, holding her hand. She'd always taken care of me, but I could not. Now she won't be running behind me to grab a bite before I leave or come scurrying down the stairs when I come back. 


As I lock the door,  I miss the scent of the incense sticks she light early morning and her sweet humming. You were right Maa, I never grew up. I wish I never grew up, for I remembered being everything; everything else except your little daughter. Will she ever forgive me?
She will, I think, for she had a heart of gold. A mother's heart.

















PLEASE NOTE:
This work is purely fictional and has no relation to the author's or anyone else's life. This must be treated as a work of fiction.

Color-blind

The hues of a certain misty blue

paint my mind, as I begin to think of you

The crevasses of a shade too gray

now hang loosely across my window-pane.

I can feel you around, like the painted sky

You blow like the breeze, kissing my lips

I let my hair loose, as you sprinkle some dew drops

as the moon dances on my shadowy fingertips.

I cannot sleep, amidst this cacophonous veneration

desires crawl unto me, like frozen snow bites

as I stare into the heavens, eyes search for your halo,

and All of a sudden, I see a shimmering light.

You caress my neck, and I let out,

gentle sighs off my heavy bosom

To have this taste of fulfilment

do all the Chrysanthemums blossom?

My eyes now close, as the sighs dim into twilight

As your satyric arms clench my bequeathed mind,

I know you'll be gone soon, and yet for tonight,

Let me be yours,

Let me be Colorblind.

You Didn't Love Her.

So much in love,
you were blinded by her sight
But you whipped off her memories in a go
as you bade everyone Goodbye.


I'd heard too much, too long
of how madly you loved her
that a day without her, would go astray
to see her once, each day you'd pray!




You called her, your God-your faith
so much trust you had in her
then where did it all go,
in the prophecy of the Judgement Day?


Love is selfless, as selfish it can be
To make is to take,
To Lie and to fake
and yet,we love, we hurt, we love again.


But to call your love, Love
would not be so right
You didn't love her.
You don't destroy people you love.

Betrayal

Hungry eyes, beseech

The moist tenderness of the night

The moonlit sky, a torture

for the distanced Beloved of the act.

Blood shot eyes, lurk here and there

Once in a while, they sting of humor

the bewilderment of a sense of wandering

while the soul rests with the Beloved in her covet.

Lips parted, souls hung low

they have miles and miles to go

Before they fall into pieces

of a thousand winter days and one summer night

The quench of the thirstless heart

cannot be imagined, but simply felt

The venegance of an everlasting trade

Fulfilled thereafter, in a Moment's grace.

And they still chant as they go,

To their early shrine of desired Abode..

"Too many miles before I sleep..

Too many nights before you weep.."

in oblivion...

Left undone is the solemn pledge,
To see myself with you, wither with time.
And live one day,
the dreams that we wove,
With your hands in mine.
Left undone, is my home
Even before it lived its first breath,
To stand under this blue sky,
With a solitary mortal to survive
Left undone is me, to stand alone
And live this life in parallel,
Yet being far from you,
for a lifetime,
When you let go of my hand,
into oblivion....

in oblivion...

Left undone is the solemn pledge,
To see myself with you, wither with time.
And live one day,
the dreams that we wove,
With your hands in mine.
Left undone, is my home
Even before it lived its first breath,
To stand under this blue sky,
With a solitary mortal to survive
Left undone is me, to stand alone
And live this life in parallel,
Yet being far from you,
for a lifetime,
When you let go of my hand,
into oblivion....