(This is purely a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any person living or dead)
It turned out to be a cold rainy morning. The rain was coming down, roads were wet, dark cloudy skies did not add much to the mood which was already apprehensive, a silent nagging fear, since the outcome of the verdict today would decide the fate of an innocent 10 year old. A life changing event would occur in a couple of hours from now.
I choked on my coffee as I recalled the scene revealing itself before my eyes. Four painful years had passed. Nina was a beautiful six year old girl, long waist length brown hair, big beautiful eyes, dimpled cheeks and a cherubic round face, an innocent expression in those fluid eyes, a smile always playing on her lips. She had waved to me that evening, a happy tinkling laugh signalling to me, that she was out for her evening games. I waved back in a quick reflex action. Her smile was too contagious to ignore. That was the last day I ever saw her smile.
An hour later I took the longer route by the woods on my evening walk, though it was nearing sunset, some intuition told me to move ahead faster, I almost started running when I heard muffled screams inside the thickly shrubbed groves. I stopped in my tracks, not knowing whether to continue walking or invade the thick growth and figure out who it was. What if it turned out to be a couple, how awkward that would be. I almost walked ahead when I heard muffled cries of "Help"..I decided to rush in, found a tall 6 footer, black cloak around him, denim jeans, a mask on his face ruthlessly pinning Nina to the ground . I stood rooted to the spot. on seeing me, he picked her up right over his head, took out a knife and slashed her across the face and threw her down. She lay unconscious, bleeding profusely. I expected him to attack me, but he turned on his heels, let out a loud sadistic guffaw and vanished into the twilight. I panicked but had to do something. I picked up Nina in my arms, rushed for help and got her to a hospital.Repeated calls to her home yielded no response. I had to give my statement as sole withness to the proceedings. This was a trauma I would never wish even on my sworn enemy.
Medical reports confirmed that Nina was raped repeatedly. She was in a state of shock and her life was hanging in a balance. She lived in my neighbourhood with her step mother, having lost her father just the previous year. Her step mom was a reckless, irresponsible woman, arrested a couple of times for drug abuse. Despite this background, Nina was an intelligent student, good at sports and always shone in extra curricular activities. She was the ideal teacher's pet in school and very popular too.
I was running from pillar to post trying to sort out innumerable police enquiries,lawyers, her hospitalisation,Bills, her school, calls from friends, relatives, putting my own life on hold. I had to do it, not because I was the only witness, but because I loved Nina as my own and if I didn't help her, I knew no one would. Not even her mother who remained indifferent, almost as if it was my entire responsibility for having rescued her daughter that night! After weeks of building up immense pressure, media coverage, political involvement and continous visits to the police, I found a ray of hope. The culprit was arrested 3 months after the crime. Then came the trial. Visits to the court, interrogations, cross examination and half way through the proceedings, the case took a dramatic turn, the defense counsel almost trying to prove the culprit innocent.
The last three years had taken a toll on me. My personal life was in shambles. I had broken off my engagement because my fiancee had failed to understand the extent of my involvement. He asked me to help out but not to get involved. Help out? Whom? A six year old who was violated and put to shame for no fault of hers? How could she handle the future with an indifferent mother who was high on liquor and drugs all the time, a woman who changed her boyfriends faster than her clothes, men who eyed this little girl after knowing what happened with her? As if she was prey to their merciless lust? I could stand it no longer. I put my foot down and told Nina's mother to either allow her to live with me till the verdict was through or put her into foster care. Somehow, I had expected moral support from my fiancee, not indifference. His decision to break off helped me view the entire relationship with open eyes. His utter selfishness and chauvinism would perhaps have surfaced later in my life, when it was too late?
Nina's mother reluctantly agreed for Nina to live with me. This brought fresh problems. The men in her mother's life began hounding me. Something told me that the culprit was one among them. I was proved right, though it took a long time for Nina to confirm this and record it in court. All this while, Nina transformed from child to a grown up girl. From the innocent child she was growing into a recluse, her wistful eyes welling up in tears often. She stopped schooling, did not want to meet any friends, felt ashamed, started blaming herself for everything. Her only happiness revolved around me. She felt secure and comforted in my presence. I tried to spend every evening with her, counselling, listening to music, reading, watching movies, anything to take her mind away from her past. But, I have never seen her smile. Not even once in these last four years. I see only pain, a lost vacant look most of the time. Any simple outing that we have is in fear. Always looking over our shoulders to see if some disguised enemy is behind us. How long can this go on? I did have my sister help me for a year and a half, but Nina's dependence on me is scary. She simply refuses to let me out of her sight. My personal life has gone downhill. I no longer meet friends, socialise or go out on holidays. Whose fault is it? My destiny for being dragged into this situation or her step mom's fault for being irresponsible? Or the fact that they have no other relatives or friends wanting to pitch in with moral support? I dont know.
All that I now want is justice. Corporal punishment for the animal who did this to us. I say us, because Nina and I are one now. Inseparable. They say that blood is thicker than water. I dont think so. My bond with Nina is built on a foundation of shared pain and sorrow, an understanding deeper and stronger than the umblical cord. No one can severe it! What hurts her, kills me and what troubles me puts fear into her.
What will the Judge's verdict be? Will justice prevail? Will it replace innocence lost? Will she regain her lost childhood? Have a joyous youth? Are wishes granted? Prayers answered? Do miracles happen? Will I live long enough to comfort, protect, soothe and love her? Will I be able to forget this trauma and pick up the threads of my own life? Or will Nina and I remain the lone survivors who lived but merely continued to exist for each other?
I have no answers to any of these questions!If any of you find any answers, please pray, not for me, but for the innocent Nina!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
When egos clash
It was a quarter past ten. Sid was yet to return. Another cold dinner, late night, early morning schedule leaving me to cope with lonliness. The rains were coming down fast and furious, the dark night seemed like a deja Vu; though I loathed rewinding my memory, circumstances compelled the clock backwards by a quarter of a century.
It was a similar scenario I had been in, waiting for Avinash to return, just to share a few moments of togetherness. That fateful night when the skies had opened the flood gates, torrents came down as if they would swallow the earth, I had rushed to the front door to let a dripping wet Avinash in, surprised to find his friend Jay with him. The three of us sat through a silent dinner, Avinash preoccupied with his office files and papers whilst eating. Poor Jay! Tried to make light of a heavily pregnant silent situation, little knowing it was almost a ritual in our so called home. Jay’s attempts to laugh, joke, tease, cajole and eventually praise me for whatever culinary skills he found fascinating seemed to have evoked the monster in Avinash. To this day, I cannot recall how the conversation steered to a friendly battle of wit & humour between Jay and me, an innocent banter which laid the foundation for an insecure couple’s battle . All I remember is the loud crashing of the glass water jug on the dining table, accusations, a violent hatred towards a childhood pal and sickening insinuations at me. No amount of explanations helped. Avinash was like an unleashed tiger on the prowl, determined to tear his prey to pieces that night.
A three hour argument yielded no results. Jay left. A shattered man bruised by words which stung, embarrassed by the turn of events and silently regretting his decision to share a meal with us. I was exhausted and found no reason to justify or defend myself. The door barely shut behind Jay, when Avinash yelled at me to leave the house. We had innumerable arguments in the past, spent weeks of silence living under the same roof, with Avinash always waiting for me to apologise and beg forgiveness, even though the fault most often was his, yet, never had either of us asked the other to leave nor had we ever spoken about a split. I looked at him incredulously, didn’t answer for fear of provoking another argument and walked up to our room. He yelled at me again like a mad man, threatening to throw me out if I did not quit with dignity. The tone in his voice made me decide my fate. He meant what he said. I picked up 3 yr old Sid who was fast asleep, packed a few baby essentials, struggling with my emotions almost tempted to seek pardon, while common sense warned me not to. I left. He slammed the door shut, insensitive to his own son’s predicament. I had been forced to walk out of my home on a rainy night, well past midnight, with a 3 yr old in my arms, not knowing where to go, what to do all because I could not and did not seek pardon for a crime that I had not committed!I had unknowingly become a victim of jealousy, of a fierce competition between the two which dated back to their childhood, youth, jobs, status, everything! That was the last time I saw Avinash.
God had blessed my son and me with Angels in the form of friends and family; people who saw us through that frightful night and many years after that. Avinash made no attempts to reconcile, waiting for me to make the move! For the first time in my life I refused to compromise on my self respect to save my marriage. It was not worth it. Jay felt responsible and for some weird reason offered to take care of me and Sid! I did not want anything to do with Avinash or his friends and family. Though I never saw Jay again, I learnt that Avinash had severed ties with his friend as well! Well, why wouldn’t he? When his ego came first, even before the welfare of his own son.
The loud buzz of the doorbell stirred me out of my reverie! Sid was home, happiness returned! I felt a sense of pride each time I saw him, a successful Corporate Manager, efficient, hard working, famous at the young age of 28. My dreams of seeing him married, bringing Sheetal as a member of our family would soon materialize.
I failed to notice that Sid looked tired & withdrawn, dismissing it as fatigue. Just as we were seated for dinner, his cell phone rang. The expression on his face changed, the lines on his brow deepened, his face was flushed with anger, jaws taut as he picked up the phone. It so reminded me of his father, after so many years I was witnessing this emotion. I sat stunned as I heard him speak. He raved & ranted and only when he firmly told the person at the other end that he was calling off his wedding unless ‘she’ apologized, did I realize that he was talking to Sheetal’s mother. That got me and I gave Sid a piece of my mind telling him not to behave like his father. Which was my undoing! I had no business to compare two individuals, though they were father and son! If Sid was egotistic, it was genetic. I had to accept it and stop interfering in his life.
The thought had barely dawned on me before Sid in no uncertain terms said he wanted to lead his life on his terms and that he would move out in a week’s time, leaving all assets and the house to me .I did not want assets, I wanted people, a family! Where had I gone wrong? Would life have been less complicated if I had apologized to Avinash just fed his ego and played second fiddle? Did I err in raising Sid on my own? Is self respect that important in a relationship, in a marriage? Or is compromise the best solution? What’s the difference between ego and self respect anyway ? A thin dividing line? I don’t know!
It was a similar scenario I had been in, waiting for Avinash to return, just to share a few moments of togetherness. That fateful night when the skies had opened the flood gates, torrents came down as if they would swallow the earth, I had rushed to the front door to let a dripping wet Avinash in, surprised to find his friend Jay with him. The three of us sat through a silent dinner, Avinash preoccupied with his office files and papers whilst eating. Poor Jay! Tried to make light of a heavily pregnant silent situation, little knowing it was almost a ritual in our so called home. Jay’s attempts to laugh, joke, tease, cajole and eventually praise me for whatever culinary skills he found fascinating seemed to have evoked the monster in Avinash. To this day, I cannot recall how the conversation steered to a friendly battle of wit & humour between Jay and me, an innocent banter which laid the foundation for an insecure couple’s battle . All I remember is the loud crashing of the glass water jug on the dining table, accusations, a violent hatred towards a childhood pal and sickening insinuations at me. No amount of explanations helped. Avinash was like an unleashed tiger on the prowl, determined to tear his prey to pieces that night.
A three hour argument yielded no results. Jay left. A shattered man bruised by words which stung, embarrassed by the turn of events and silently regretting his decision to share a meal with us. I was exhausted and found no reason to justify or defend myself. The door barely shut behind Jay, when Avinash yelled at me to leave the house. We had innumerable arguments in the past, spent weeks of silence living under the same roof, with Avinash always waiting for me to apologise and beg forgiveness, even though the fault most often was his, yet, never had either of us asked the other to leave nor had we ever spoken about a split. I looked at him incredulously, didn’t answer for fear of provoking another argument and walked up to our room. He yelled at me again like a mad man, threatening to throw me out if I did not quit with dignity. The tone in his voice made me decide my fate. He meant what he said. I picked up 3 yr old Sid who was fast asleep, packed a few baby essentials, struggling with my emotions almost tempted to seek pardon, while common sense warned me not to. I left. He slammed the door shut, insensitive to his own son’s predicament. I had been forced to walk out of my home on a rainy night, well past midnight, with a 3 yr old in my arms, not knowing where to go, what to do all because I could not and did not seek pardon for a crime that I had not committed!I had unknowingly become a victim of jealousy, of a fierce competition between the two which dated back to their childhood, youth, jobs, status, everything! That was the last time I saw Avinash.
God had blessed my son and me with Angels in the form of friends and family; people who saw us through that frightful night and many years after that. Avinash made no attempts to reconcile, waiting for me to make the move! For the first time in my life I refused to compromise on my self respect to save my marriage. It was not worth it. Jay felt responsible and for some weird reason offered to take care of me and Sid! I did not want anything to do with Avinash or his friends and family. Though I never saw Jay again, I learnt that Avinash had severed ties with his friend as well! Well, why wouldn’t he? When his ego came first, even before the welfare of his own son.
The loud buzz of the doorbell stirred me out of my reverie! Sid was home, happiness returned! I felt a sense of pride each time I saw him, a successful Corporate Manager, efficient, hard working, famous at the young age of 28. My dreams of seeing him married, bringing Sheetal as a member of our family would soon materialize.
I failed to notice that Sid looked tired & withdrawn, dismissing it as fatigue. Just as we were seated for dinner, his cell phone rang. The expression on his face changed, the lines on his brow deepened, his face was flushed with anger, jaws taut as he picked up the phone. It so reminded me of his father, after so many years I was witnessing this emotion. I sat stunned as I heard him speak. He raved & ranted and only when he firmly told the person at the other end that he was calling off his wedding unless ‘she’ apologized, did I realize that he was talking to Sheetal’s mother. That got me and I gave Sid a piece of my mind telling him not to behave like his father. Which was my undoing! I had no business to compare two individuals, though they were father and son! If Sid was egotistic, it was genetic. I had to accept it and stop interfering in his life.
The thought had barely dawned on me before Sid in no uncertain terms said he wanted to lead his life on his terms and that he would move out in a week’s time, leaving all assets and the house to me .I did not want assets, I wanted people, a family! Where had I gone wrong? Would life have been less complicated if I had apologized to Avinash just fed his ego and played second fiddle? Did I err in raising Sid on my own? Is self respect that important in a relationship, in a marriage? Or is compromise the best solution? What’s the difference between ego and self respect anyway ? A thin dividing line? I don’t know!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Homeward Bound
Bags were packed, locked, weighed and ready. Online check-in was completed, Boarding Pass printed. Except the final Good-byes, she was all set to leave. It had been her idea to arrange an informal get-together at a Restaurant for a final beer with friends. Everyone was present, except him.
Sonia was getting restless, just an hour to go and she had around 20 minutes drive to reach the airport. Half an hour went past, still no sign. The ominous dark clouds gathering overhead ready to explode into a fierce downpour, did nothing much to brighten the situation. Well, it was foolish on her part to even faintly expect him to be there. He was an extremely busy man, probably involved in one of his numerous assignments or guest lectures, maybe a seminar, Conference, could be ill health,the weather, anything. He had thousands of students graduating and leaving every year,what was so special about her exit anyway and the University was a good one hours drive from the place she had chosen and his home was even further away! So!! Or, he just did not want to be present. Simple. But her innermost voice refused to believe that he did not want to be around. Or was he uneasy with goodbyes? In any case she had a good 12 to 14 hours on her flight back home, to analyse the 'ifs' and 'buts' of an imaginary cause.
Tim was a faculty at her University. He taught Finance but not her batch. She had attended one single guest seminar of his, remained spell bound for the 4 hours that he occupied the podium, overawed by his analytical skills and life was never the same again. She was so attentive, participating eagerly and by the end of the day, he seemed impressed with her and after its conclusion, gave her inputs about her subjects, career and next course of action she should take. Needless to say, Sania appeared like any other girl her age would. Floored by compliments from someone she idolised and was completely bowled over by his intellect and humane characteristics. She made it a point to read most of his research papers and kept herself abreast of what he was doing. The rumour of his relocation to a different County sent her into a mild panic, short of being hysterical. And for the first time she fared poorly in her papers. She did run into him a couple of times, having short conversations within the campus and on one occasion even discussed her other literary pursuits, without touching on academics.
With the last ten minutes left to bid her final round of farewell, hugs, tears, exchange of numbers, it dawned on her that she would never see most of these people again and would be leaving the country for good. As she hugged her last friend, her emotions gave way, burying her face in her shoulers she tried to get a hold over herself. As she looked up amidst tears, she found herself looking into hazel brown eyes and a familiar voice asking her "can I drop you to the airport? Sorry I got late!" So he did make it after all.
Suddenly, she seemed in a hurry to leave, yet once seated wished the drive would go on forever or a breakdown, anything to delay her departure. The conversation between them appeared strained, mono syllabic answers and before she realised it, they were at the gate. She alighted, aware that these were the last few moments, as parking beyond a few minutes was not done and the clouds were threatening to burst.
" I dont know what to say, Sania, though there is much I would have liked to convey. I have this little book for you with a few notes made here and there, a couple of bookmarks and underlined quotes. Maybe, if you read between the lines, you would know", with that he handed her a volume of her favourite poems, held her hands and said "Goodbye and Take Care. You know where to reach me if you wish"
She flipped open a page which was marked. A poem by Pablo Neruda
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
She was rendered speechless, but had to say something, since she knew by intuition what he meant "I wish you well Tim, but feel we shouldn't have waited this long"
He tried to smile, knowing the impossibility of such a union. Culturally poles apart, demographically long distance, biologically he was a good 15 years her senior. Yet, an invisible bond tied them together, making words useless, when a communication of their souls seemed stronger.
" I am sorry, I did not get anything for you, I mean, I wish I had thought of a gift or something, but you will always remain very dear to me" she was struggling with her emotions.
" take care dear" was all he could manage to say without choking, as they looked at each other in final farewell.
Cloudburst. The raindrops had begun to fall. They were both thankful to the rains which managed to camouflage their tears.
P. S. Some relationships are not meant to be but happen, while some others are meant to be, but never happen!
Sonia was getting restless, just an hour to go and she had around 20 minutes drive to reach the airport. Half an hour went past, still no sign. The ominous dark clouds gathering overhead ready to explode into a fierce downpour, did nothing much to brighten the situation. Well, it was foolish on her part to even faintly expect him to be there. He was an extremely busy man, probably involved in one of his numerous assignments or guest lectures, maybe a seminar, Conference, could be ill health,the weather, anything. He had thousands of students graduating and leaving every year,what was so special about her exit anyway and the University was a good one hours drive from the place she had chosen and his home was even further away! So!! Or, he just did not want to be present. Simple. But her innermost voice refused to believe that he did not want to be around. Or was he uneasy with goodbyes? In any case she had a good 12 to 14 hours on her flight back home, to analyse the 'ifs' and 'buts' of an imaginary cause.
Tim was a faculty at her University. He taught Finance but not her batch. She had attended one single guest seminar of his, remained spell bound for the 4 hours that he occupied the podium, overawed by his analytical skills and life was never the same again. She was so attentive, participating eagerly and by the end of the day, he seemed impressed with her and after its conclusion, gave her inputs about her subjects, career and next course of action she should take. Needless to say, Sania appeared like any other girl her age would. Floored by compliments from someone she idolised and was completely bowled over by his intellect and humane characteristics. She made it a point to read most of his research papers and kept herself abreast of what he was doing. The rumour of his relocation to a different County sent her into a mild panic, short of being hysterical. And for the first time she fared poorly in her papers. She did run into him a couple of times, having short conversations within the campus and on one occasion even discussed her other literary pursuits, without touching on academics.
With the last ten minutes left to bid her final round of farewell, hugs, tears, exchange of numbers, it dawned on her that she would never see most of these people again and would be leaving the country for good. As she hugged her last friend, her emotions gave way, burying her face in her shoulers she tried to get a hold over herself. As she looked up amidst tears, she found herself looking into hazel brown eyes and a familiar voice asking her "can I drop you to the airport? Sorry I got late!" So he did make it after all.
Suddenly, she seemed in a hurry to leave, yet once seated wished the drive would go on forever or a breakdown, anything to delay her departure. The conversation between them appeared strained, mono syllabic answers and before she realised it, they were at the gate. She alighted, aware that these were the last few moments, as parking beyond a few minutes was not done and the clouds were threatening to burst.
" I dont know what to say, Sania, though there is much I would have liked to convey. I have this little book for you with a few notes made here and there, a couple of bookmarks and underlined quotes. Maybe, if you read between the lines, you would know", with that he handed her a volume of her favourite poems, held her hands and said "Goodbye and Take Care. You know where to reach me if you wish"
She flipped open a page which was marked. A poem by Pablo Neruda
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
She was rendered speechless, but had to say something, since she knew by intuition what he meant "I wish you well Tim, but feel we shouldn't have waited this long"
He tried to smile, knowing the impossibility of such a union. Culturally poles apart, demographically long distance, biologically he was a good 15 years her senior. Yet, an invisible bond tied them together, making words useless, when a communication of their souls seemed stronger.
" I am sorry, I did not get anything for you, I mean, I wish I had thought of a gift or something, but you will always remain very dear to me" she was struggling with her emotions.
" take care dear" was all he could manage to say without choking, as they looked at each other in final farewell.
Cloudburst. The raindrops had begun to fall. They were both thankful to the rains which managed to camouflage their tears.
P. S. Some relationships are not meant to be but happen, while some others are meant to be, but never happen!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
From One Blogger to another!
The relationship between bloggers is an interesting one! I am fairly new to the blogging world, but realise its huge with loads of content. Gathering so much information is virtually impossible but I feel the least we can do, is to start somewhere and follow subjects which interest us.
Building a network among friends, making a small group, sharing inputs and making it a point to read what someone else has written is one step forward. Every blogger writes not only for the love of writing but essentially to share with his fellow bloggers, what he thinks may be of some interest. If we spend 5 minutes reading something, I am sure another 60 seconds spent in recording a comment,should not be difficult. If anything, it goes a long way in motivating someone, encouraging them to continue putting their thoughts on paper.
If nobody reads or has the patience to comment, there is no point in writing! One may as well record everything in a Diary and keep it locked in a cupboard. If the bloggers world has to survive and we understand each other, it will indeed be a process of understanding not only what the person writes but also his moods, reflection & style. I know some folks who feel they are the best, either have a condescending attitude or do not encourage another to write for fear of competition. Its ridiculous! The world is so big, subjects infinite and each human mind has a different thought process with his own distinctive style of conveying things. Hence, such insecurity is uncalled for.
Is it possible for us to unite,encourage and respect each other? It is absolutely not necesary to say nice things all the time. Suggestion, inputs and healthy criticism spurs the writer to do even better next time! Can we make a start in building a beautiful mutual relationship? Can we start today? Right now?
If you have reached this line, it means you have read it all. Could you please leave your thoughts on the issue?
Building a network among friends, making a small group, sharing inputs and making it a point to read what someone else has written is one step forward. Every blogger writes not only for the love of writing but essentially to share with his fellow bloggers, what he thinks may be of some interest. If we spend 5 minutes reading something, I am sure another 60 seconds spent in recording a comment,should not be difficult. If anything, it goes a long way in motivating someone, encouraging them to continue putting their thoughts on paper.
If nobody reads or has the patience to comment, there is no point in writing! One may as well record everything in a Diary and keep it locked in a cupboard. If the bloggers world has to survive and we understand each other, it will indeed be a process of understanding not only what the person writes but also his moods, reflection & style. I know some folks who feel they are the best, either have a condescending attitude or do not encourage another to write for fear of competition. Its ridiculous! The world is so big, subjects infinite and each human mind has a different thought process with his own distinctive style of conveying things. Hence, such insecurity is uncalled for.
Is it possible for us to unite,encourage and respect each other? It is absolutely not necesary to say nice things all the time. Suggestion, inputs and healthy criticism spurs the writer to do even better next time! Can we make a start in building a beautiful mutual relationship? Can we start today? Right now?
If you have reached this line, it means you have read it all. Could you please leave your thoughts on the issue?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Mirror and Image An interesting relationship
The style was cool. The cut perfect, bangs framing an oval pretty face. Highlighter applied, concealer to hide the spots, a touch of mascara, lipstick to add colour, shadow to enhance and the face was good! The image seemed pretty pleased with the ‘makeover, having spent not only a fortune but sleepless nights of planning (Ouch!! now That was the cause for those dark circles) and hours of office time. Hmm ! well!
The outfit was tailored to perfection, size zero, classy accessories, branded watch, trendy bag, stylish footwear, Prada sun shades…Okay that’s enough, the image was mighty pleased!
‘So, what do you think mirror ?’ Asked the image with a touch of arrogance
‘Well, just about okay!’
‘That’s ridiculous! This, this awesome image that you are reflecting is just okay? Maybe you’ve grown old, senile or plain jealous’
‘Well, old maybe, after all I have reflected some beautiful women in my life, like your grandmom for instance’
‘Ah!! Grandma was plain, simple, cuddly and sweet not a trendsetter. But look what you are reflecting today, I bet you’ve never seen an image like this before.
‘I can offer you some tips honey! To make you look astonishing’ the mirror seemed to jump at the opportunity
‘Better than this??Well go on, make your advice short and crisp and don’t expect me to shell out any more bucks. I'm drained out!’
‘Oh No! It doesn’t cost a penny! How about adding some warmth to your smile, a firm grip to your handshake, a softness to your voice, some gentle allure to your expressions and gestures of goodwill. Like calling on your Mom for instance, taking a break with your family, a movie with your sis, reading to your child and spending a weekend with friends. Come back and talk to me after three months, you will see the difference.’
‘Huh???How dry, boring and outdated! You amaze me! How on earth are all these things going to improve my image, my looks. Its only going to make me tired and drained out! Who has the time anyway? See you around and thanks, but no thanks!’
When the image did not get any extra attention despite such herculean efforts, she thought about giving a couple of those experiments, a try.
Four months later, she went back for a tete-a-tete. ‘Alright, here I am, I did heed some of your advice. What do you think?’ There was an unmistakable warmth in her voice.
‘You sound happy and warm. I think your smile must have reached your eyes which could be twinkling, not with extra mascara but with joy from within. You maybe looking radiant and alluring. I can now confess that I am perhaps reflecting someone much more confident and beautiful than even your grandmom. I know that I am now reflecting an image of inner beauty radiating an outer charm.’
‘That sounds fine, thanks but why do you sound as if you cannot see me properly?’
‘I have grown old dear, the image is hazy, a film appears before my eyes but I like the sound of your voice, your confidence your goodness and your attitude. Just that it came a bit late for me to completely feel and enjoy the beauty and radiance that you emit.’
The image felt sad! How often have we wasted time postponing a good deed to the next day? How often have we ignored a friend who was depressed and coping alone, hoping that she would recover by ‘tomorrow’, failed to call on an ailing relative, cancelled a trip to the mountains with family, escaped from the School’s Annual Day celebrations, snapped at Mom for seeking help with groceries, passed on the responsibility of accompanying Dad to the doctor to someone else, just sat indoors and slept through a beautiful day, doing nothing?
How much has just gone by? And cannot be retrieved? How often have we been obsessed with our looks and conscious of the image we project to the outside world, ignoring the call of the soul which comes from within but radiates outside? Taking a cue from the ‘image’ let me pretend that tomorrow may never come and yesterday is dead, but today is here, with beautiful moments to be captured!
The outfit was tailored to perfection, size zero, classy accessories, branded watch, trendy bag, stylish footwear, Prada sun shades…Okay that’s enough, the image was mighty pleased!
‘So, what do you think mirror ?’ Asked the image with a touch of arrogance
‘Well, just about okay!’
‘That’s ridiculous! This, this awesome image that you are reflecting is just okay? Maybe you’ve grown old, senile or plain jealous’
‘Well, old maybe, after all I have reflected some beautiful women in my life, like your grandmom for instance’
‘Ah!! Grandma was plain, simple, cuddly and sweet not a trendsetter. But look what you are reflecting today, I bet you’ve never seen an image like this before.
‘I can offer you some tips honey! To make you look astonishing’ the mirror seemed to jump at the opportunity
‘Better than this??Well go on, make your advice short and crisp and don’t expect me to shell out any more bucks. I'm drained out!’
‘Oh No! It doesn’t cost a penny! How about adding some warmth to your smile, a firm grip to your handshake, a softness to your voice, some gentle allure to your expressions and gestures of goodwill. Like calling on your Mom for instance, taking a break with your family, a movie with your sis, reading to your child and spending a weekend with friends. Come back and talk to me after three months, you will see the difference.’
‘Huh???How dry, boring and outdated! You amaze me! How on earth are all these things going to improve my image, my looks. Its only going to make me tired and drained out! Who has the time anyway? See you around and thanks, but no thanks!’
When the image did not get any extra attention despite such herculean efforts, she thought about giving a couple of those experiments, a try.
Four months later, she went back for a tete-a-tete. ‘Alright, here I am, I did heed some of your advice. What do you think?’ There was an unmistakable warmth in her voice.
‘You sound happy and warm. I think your smile must have reached your eyes which could be twinkling, not with extra mascara but with joy from within. You maybe looking radiant and alluring. I can now confess that I am perhaps reflecting someone much more confident and beautiful than even your grandmom. I know that I am now reflecting an image of inner beauty radiating an outer charm.’
‘That sounds fine, thanks but why do you sound as if you cannot see me properly?’
‘I have grown old dear, the image is hazy, a film appears before my eyes but I like the sound of your voice, your confidence your goodness and your attitude. Just that it came a bit late for me to completely feel and enjoy the beauty and radiance that you emit.’
The image felt sad! How often have we wasted time postponing a good deed to the next day? How often have we ignored a friend who was depressed and coping alone, hoping that she would recover by ‘tomorrow’, failed to call on an ailing relative, cancelled a trip to the mountains with family, escaped from the School’s Annual Day celebrations, snapped at Mom for seeking help with groceries, passed on the responsibility of accompanying Dad to the doctor to someone else, just sat indoors and slept through a beautiful day, doing nothing?
How much has just gone by? And cannot be retrieved? How often have we been obsessed with our looks and conscious of the image we project to the outside world, ignoring the call of the soul which comes from within but radiates outside? Taking a cue from the ‘image’ let me pretend that tomorrow may never come and yesterday is dead, but today is here, with beautiful moments to be captured!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
What A Dad means to a daughter:
Father stood for all this and much much more:
A pillar of strength
A person to look up to in times of stress
A counsellor, A guide
A loving Dad who would gleefully buy the ice cream Mom said not to
An indulgent father who spoiled his little girl silly
A strong man who would often melt at the tears in his little one's eyes
A sterling example in goodness of character
A disciplinarian when it came to teen years
A no nonsense man while dealing with studies & Grades
A motivator who encouraged in sports and music
An intellectual who taught the art of reading books and writing
A fun loving Dad who first showed the art of building sand castles...(That the daughter ends up building castles in the air is another thing .. )
A courageous man, a brave soldier, a great patriot he taught ethics and love for one's Motherland
A man to whom self respect was utmost, integrity his password and hardwork with sincerity his passion
As he instilled all these values, his influence remained steadfast to a daughter. Above everything, he is a thorough gentleman, a great human being an idol in her eyes!
The father daughter relationship is one the most deep rooted bonds, highly influential, tinged with a distance, yet so close and warm, supportive and trustworthy!
Father stood for all this and much much more:
A pillar of strength
A person to look up to in times of stress
A counsellor, A guide
A loving Dad who would gleefully buy the ice cream Mom said not to
An indulgent father who spoiled his little girl silly
A strong man who would often melt at the tears in his little one's eyes
A sterling example in goodness of character
A disciplinarian when it came to teen years
A no nonsense man while dealing with studies & Grades
A motivator who encouraged in sports and music
An intellectual who taught the art of reading books and writing
A fun loving Dad who first showed the art of building sand castles...(That the daughter ends up building castles in the air is another thing .. )
A courageous man, a brave soldier, a great patriot he taught ethics and love for one's Motherland
A man to whom self respect was utmost, integrity his password and hardwork with sincerity his passion
As he instilled all these values, his influence remained steadfast to a daughter. Above everything, he is a thorough gentleman, a great human being an idol in her eyes!
The father daughter relationship is one the most deep rooted bonds, highly influential, tinged with a distance, yet so close and warm, supportive and trustworthy!
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