Search This Blog

Friday 30 September 2016

The perfect Woman


‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’




Perfection is a perception. For me perfection does not have any defined dimension- She has a golden heart, she carries a diamond personality, she wears wisdom, she smiles just on the perfect line. Her dance moves could not be more adept, 'Oh laila' how could she have such a face, perfectly contoured features, she walks like a gypsy,  she wakes up in perfect poise, even in her lowest mood swings she disperses superlative lingo , her hair stretches in perfect streak at the middle of the night when she turns the other side, she gets off the crowded bus with her eyes radiating sparkle, the symmetry of her kohl rimmed liner stands perfectly in cycle, just "1-inch" below her eye balls  though there had been a few pushes, kick stick movements with fellow passengers while returning back from office.Her Boss would never look at her with his curved eyebrows, he knew she could move mountains perfectly( clients were just mere mortals)

The home  front-It is an  epitome of a perfectly piled up living and non living  species.  She opens the door, she had tucked the clothes in symmetry perfectly buried at the right hand corner of the left hand side of the drawer, none had moved a bit from their lined up position, the books looked at each other from their spacious corridors inside the book shelf, they had a 2 -inch distance amid themselves, they too were perfect in their task of maintaining a perfect decorum. The kitchen was another place- may be it exhibited Godly attributes.

Knock at the door, the kids were home, two little monsters “oops” two perfectly trained little super kids. They came, they conquered the cupboard, the clothes still remain at their perfect settings, the kids know exactly where to find the clothes, the shirt aligned to the right side rests in stoic discipline long after the kids had gone, kids had their meals ‘perfectly’ rejoicing the mother’s recipe “karela “ “ lauki” singing sweet nothings about the health benefits of “karela and lauki”.

Buz, huzz, tuzz, reversed gear, blah blah blah,abra ka dabra... perfection turned upside down, whizzed, sizzed, hush hop, oohlala...I stand there ....perfectly  berserk, ransacked territory on the upper shelves of my head, just below the eyes had kohl rimmed eyelashes, black patches running towards the nose, the kurta was blue, the kurta had been looking for a perfect match but the trouser always betrayed her spirits, yes they were 'blue'. The perfect blend ;)

The metro ride was as heavenly, the pigs even spoke in a better pitch, back home, the house was delighted as ever to find its master who  lost  her way every day just like her clothes , they  yearned to be in perfect alignment with colours or even pairs, lost in the rumble, in their crazy delight they were “perfect”.  Books, they too enjoyed every bit of their romance with playmates, caressing the other pages, sitting over, hugging, indulging here and there free as a "free soul". This was my house.

 I suddenly look at the mirror, I seek perfection but I smile, I laugh, I scream, I fondle my hair and there I say " I still am perfect”. 
 "I love it that way,  I make blunders, I make errors, I scream, I dream, I yell, I shout, I lose, I win, I live,yes I live".



“I am perfect to me “ The mirror yells too "The perfect Woman"

Wednesday 28 September 2016

I could not talk about that to her








My little girl sat on the chair just at the corner of the door, family was shattered; we had no other option but to take our 10 year old with us. I had no place to keep her, she was holding my hand, and I had uttered a few words about the sudden demise of one of our loved one (a very close relative) I fumbled, I searched for better words, my mind scattered to gather the perfect way to tell her about the most harsh reality but I could not, I have always found the best words to adorn my writings but at that moment it was emptiness. 

I found it quite painful to escape her roving eyes; I was desperately seeking for answers because as an adult even I tried to seek explanations. I clinged to her, caressing her soft hands and took her to the remotest corner of the room, that scattered corner of the room where she would not see tears, shattered hearts' and the truth of human existence (May be I was a fool to even think so) I yearned for that little space in that chaotic corner; I had all the intention of breaking away from the truth.

I gathered all my wit to deviate her attention but at the end of the day I had to face her, I had to tell her, I had to share with her, I had to counsel her, life absolutely spoke of hurdles everywhere and as humans we try to seek logic or try hard   to elude the reality but was it feasible?

There are times when events or occurrence does not manifold the way we assume, truth always stood there but it was never plugged in us, may be each one of us desired to evade it. Death, an absolute truth, it stood there always behind us, beside us, with us but the very concept of even discussing it amongst ourselves is shattering.

Life unfolds itself in its own wavering ways, the future is fickle, life is uncertain and when death strikes the door...the baffled mind is absolutely ragged, the aftermath appalling resulting in depression, distress and severe mental, psychological and   behavioural dilemma.
As an adult we have our own healing mechanism, external and internal adaptable skills to withdraw and expunge from the memories with time but the whole concept of accepting death as a child or an adolescent is a very intricate process.  Proper counselling and enlightenment can heal and rehabilitate. It could be that little puppy or the neighbour’s uncle or may be someone as precious in our own family, death is inevitable. As the child realizes the truth of not being able to see the most beloved ones as he or she used to do in past, it challenges the basic life pattern. The initial set back of not finding the person nearby, of spending hours, days, months in a hopeless, disconsolate state is in itself depravation to basic human need. There could be a few things which could help a child regain the elemental confidence in life, in happiness, in joy, in assurance, in spirits...the very basic will to live....to live happily.

Lets strike a conversation


Let’s talk- The beauty of birth, of existence, of relationships, of life and in between the biological reality.

Lets speak  in a better tone- Let’s not preach and teach, let’s just take the normal tone, in our own very way, being over flowery or trying to be overtly positive would again spur abnormal inquisitiveness

Let’s just start on with conversation- About how life evolved, how it progresses.

Let’s counsel on life- We can do absolutely nothing about this phenomenon, man is bound by such conditions, helpless, a spectator. A mere mortal most of the times in life, at the mercy of fate but it’s always good to counsel on life. We still go on; live life just the way, choice is what stays with us. Acceptance becomes the most difficult word but we have to go on.
It can be the most compelling situation to “teach death” but at times life itself abounds us with a lot of these compelling situations unknowingly, unwillingly we are just left with a void, a silence, a vacuum.
But a bit of positivity, a dose of counselling and the right kind of conversation can help our dear ones eradicate many mental and behavioural ailments. It surely can leave a better understanding in the young hearts.

Carrying our world in our little pockets

As humans do we all think alike? Or as humans, we have some basic traits of behaving in a similar way because we are of the clone ...