Unburdening in a Dream.

Our kids and us were standing on the road, a bus came and stopped in front of us. There got down a family of 7 and a little girl with the face of an angel, the little girl was fascinated by the tire of the bus. She walked up to it and held on to it. The bus started moving and the girl was crushed under one of those tyres, just one circle and a life was lost. No one to be blamed, no one did this on purpose, not even the bus.

After a while, the five of us are travelling in our car, my husband was sitting behind me and had his feet up my seat. I tell him, “please remove your feet from my back, you are hurting me and causing me pain”. He does that and just then we see a huge mountain and then it turns into a valley. We see a river crisscrossing across the valley, flowers in bloom and we hear laughter.

Not the shrieking kind, but a soft laughter and then it becomes from one to two to three to ten. We look around us and I see we are surrounded by the little girl and her friends. They look like fairies, they look so radiant, that I start crying and that is when I hear someone say “forgive”. I turned around to see where the voice came from, my family was missing and the car,Β  after a while there was just silence…

I stood there on top of a hill and screamed as loud as I can “I forgive you, I forgive you, I……forgive myself too”.

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Broken,but Alive

I remember like it was yesterday, my trust broke in a tiny bathroom.

I was cornered to the wall, with the tap hurting my back.

I remember like it was yesterday, my trust broke when I believed in that smile.

I was asked to touch his penis, and he was touching my vagina.

I remember like It was yesterday, my trust broke when the 7 year old me could not run.

I was numb and could not scream, his mouth and moustache were covering mine.

I remember like it was yesterday,my trust broke when another put his hands in my underwear.

I was trying to wriggle and he held me down. Like I was a worm and he was a giant foot.

I remember like it was yesterday, my trust broke on the road. 

I was riding my Honda and he was riding his manhood next to me. 

By then trust was lost somewhere and maybe even felt  isolated. There were many times it wanted to come back and stay put.

I remember like it was yesterday…… I promised myself that no one shall cross the wall, the wall I named trust.

Food and Memories

Have you ever closed your eyes and got that aroma of garlic or tamarind pulp that you used to get in that childhood kitchen of yours.Or that taste of certain samosa or chutney that still lingers on your palate.

I still remember that curry we ate on the Pune highway,the rich curry,mixed with hot rice and those tiny potatoes.Oh my mouth waters and i am just taken back to that night,in the dhaba and eating that delicious food.

I was talking to my chamak challo’s today and was telling them how it feels to go back to that grandmothers land. My bamma(fathers mother),has this thing for tomatoes,anything she makes has to have tomatoes in it…cabbage with tomato, potato with tomato,cauliflower with tomato,tomato with tomato.My mother does not like it a bit,she says “tomato is tomato,why mix it with other veggies and loose it’s great flavor”?.however my father got that or rather inherited that flavor and guess what happens at home :).Now,if you excuse me,i have to make fenu greek and tomato:P.

It is crazy how even our kitchen sometimes resembles our grand mothers or mothers.think of it,don’t you wash your milk packet before you cut open the cover? does not your salt always stay in tupper ware and has a small steel spoon in it? don’t you always make dal with the tadka like your mom did? i do almost everything like her…amma you are virtually ruling my kitchen πŸ˜€

Then again there is the famous podi’s or powders that are made in the kitchen.yesterday I made curry leaf podi and I so wanted it to smell and taste like amma’s.the whole experience took me back to my childhood and i had to immediately mix it with hot rice,ghee and eat it…slurp….

I so wish my elder one takes up cooking.he loves it and I am waiting to see that gleam in his eyes and that joy he gets when he licks the hell out of that tomato curry!

letter to 15 year old me

yo wassup D,

that was how your friends would call you right? you in torn jeans and loose tee’s.you always wanted to be a part of the yo crowd and in some way managed to be part of none.you know why D? cause you had a mind of your own even then.come on now,you had written your own personality when you were born.

that guy you like,thank the lord you did not go froward with it.one look at him now and you will go “hamaya”.he is fat, obsessed with money and lives in a gaudy house with his wife and kids”.i know you are going through a lot,rebelling,partying and wondering why you were not born in an ultra rich family.But,wait till the end with patience and you will know what a mother you have.she might not let you go out and hang out in the pubs like the other kids do,you are only 15! she has her reasons.

those guys you used to hang out with thinking they are you life support will not even be a part of your life when you are 30.in fact,those people are a part of the 15th year that is it.

the things that you do will not be with you for life.Please concentrate more on writing and don’t think it is just in your genes.try and concentrate more on the relationship with your bro,he will not be there for you in the year 2004 and you will miss him like crazy.

remember that kinetic Honda you had,keep that.you will need it in Bangalore in future.there is not much i would want you to change.however please give education 100%,i know it sounds bullshit to you.but,missy it will help you a lot.

and yes,please don’t give away anything like you are a fairy godmother.keep few things that are a must,like that horse shoe watch your bro bought for you or that pink tee that you bought with the first salary.they will mean a lot to you.alas last thing don’t be hard on yourself girl.all will work out in the end.you need a bit of love and care and that you are getting in abundance from your parents.

love you and will look forward to meet you again in 40’s

legacy

I was reading a book today and the thought that came to my mind “would this be well-preserved for my grandchildren?” I am 32 and grand kids are somewhere far.in fact my younger one is only 18 months and the elder 8.So,that thought was quite far stretched.However,i want my books,my little writings,to be there forever.imagine someone picks up the book after 50 years and goes “wow,my old woman sure had taste of i got that reading skills definitely from her.”

My grandparents left legacies that are unique in their own way..i don’t remember having a proper conversation with my dad’s father.however,my amma’s father left behind a huge legacy.he taught us how to be good to others and also how to be brute when required.he never owned anyone anything and if he did,he did not sleep till he returned that thing or favor.

but,the fascinating women are my grandmothers,my bamma(dad’s mom) is a very polished lady.she was born in a very poor family.however,had big dreams and she waited patiently for them to come true and they did.she groomed her sons to become what they want and not what she wanted them to be.but,the poverty is far behind her now and she lives like a queen.she is the best person for P.R anywhere.where ever she goes she carries a black book with the numbers of friends in that area.she is 83 today and she has more than 60 friends who are there to wish her.she loves attention and is not shy of it.she makes sure that she is well taken care of and the legacy that she would leave is ,no matter what your status in the world is,live like you are a born queen and live it up til the end.

my ammaamma(mom’s mom) is a women who has been protected from birth till now.she lived under her grandmothers eye for most of her teens and then got married.my grandpa got everything for her.right from the flowers in her hair to the chappal for her feet.she misses him so much,he made sure there was no dearth of anything around her.he also made her cripple that way and she never got to do anything for herself.she is also 83.but,zero friends and seven kids later she is living a silent life and i really don’t know what she thinks sitting in that rocking chair,she answers to my questions in one word and stared at the wall.maybe she sees her past there and maybe that past was wonderful than her present.but what i learnt from her is that you need to be independent and you need to love life and not live it regretting the past.

as for my grand kids,i will write a letter to them tomorrow or soon and tell them what i was like.i want them to be proud of me and i want to leave a legacy behind…one that speaks for itself and the one which is filled with adventure,love,lust,life,hate,sorrow and much more.something that comes natural to me is writing and i will write for the future generation and wait for them to open that chest filled with another world!

My city,My lane

Vyas is screaming for attention and calls out for me more than often.His little ugoo’s are catching my heart everyday and i just cannot say how happy i feel when i see him give his toothless smile πŸ™‚

Aku started reading to vyas and he read from his “magic Stories” book and keeps asking vyas all the questions i used to ask aku after i read a story and poor vyas,just looks at his brother and smiles πŸ™‚

Feel good to and looking forward for those 10 days at amma’s home in hyderabad.As a teenager my brother and i used to hate our area or those little lanes where we live.It is in the old part of secundrabad.We used to scream and yell at our parents,asking them to get to the hip side of the city.Most of the time or say always,we kept out friends away from home,thinking freak what will they think? and also spent most time in the happening areas at that time,like banjara,jubilee or sainikpuri.However i just realized that,those tiny lanes have so much activity in them.When i come out to my balcony in the post gates community in Bangalore,i miss noise around me.I mis kids screaming and playing gulli cricket.I miss neighbours sitting out and gossiping.I miss aunties bringing over savouries and snacks.i miss sitting in the front yard when it is hot and drinking juice or butter milk and chatting with relatives and friends.I miss not having t knock to go to any house there and miss the way we celebrate functions and festivals.

I am gad I belong to Seethphalmandi and am proud to be a citizen there πŸ™‚

Paris, je t’aime (2006)

V and I were watching this movie called Paris,Je t’aime,the other day.One of my all time favorite movies till day. It give true meaning to story telling.

there is one story in it (segment “Loin du 16e”).Oh it is heart touching,it is about a mother who leaves her kid in the crehce and goes to work in another house to take care of another kid (there the story is said) and that is what is is all about.it is acted,directed so beautifully.

It takes just one minute to tell a story through lens and this ones takes that cake.Actually all the stories are too good to be rated bad.I mean each story tells you something new about life and emotions around it.There is another one by Gurinder Chadda (segment “Quais de Seine”),oh that one is too good.It is all said in about 5 minutes and the old man at the end makes it all.

If you have time please go and grab a DVD and watch it!