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Showing posts from August, 2015

Bringing home a pet.

On my daily walks with Chikoo, I see children eyeing him  longingly, calling out to him, and at times, nagging their parents to get one for them.  Kids!  You never know what they would demand next! Sometimes, they ask for the latest toys, and at others, they ask for a younger sibling. The wish for toys can be granted, but do all of you grant them the 'sibling wish'? No. So, I wonder, why do some of you grant them the 'pet
     Getting home a pet is not like getting home a piece of furniture, or a stuffed toy. It is a living being, with its  own set of needs, likes, dislikes and most important , its feelings.  Your children will grow up into independent adults, who won't be needing your attention after a particular age. But, with pets, it is a different story altogether. Pets are babies, who never 'grow'. They remain babies all their lives, depending on their masters for every single thing: their food, health and well being. And, it is …

Here comes the postman!

Wonder when I last uttered those words!  Eons  ago - I try calculating with my fingers, and give up midway.  And, then, after that long a period of time, I shouted out those words yesterday, though I did shout these out a few times during the past week, but, yesterday I was rewarded for my patience. Thank god, hubby wasn't around. His look of utter ridicule, mingled  with amusement, would have made me cringe, for a reason - hubby could just not fathom out as to  why, in this day and age, when the world communicates via the net, do I have to 'write a letter' to someone and 'mail' it , via snail mail! These were his thoughts, when I handed him a letter to be posted last month.
         "Lord! I will have to stop on my way to work, look for the post-office and then buy those stamps before I post the letter! I will just send it through the courier service at my work place," he said, as he left for work, without waiting for so much as a reaction from me.  Later…

Play-dates from my childhood.

                Bachpan ke din bhi kya din theyy!   Isn't this how we reminisce about our childhood, wistfully? Those golden years  filled with innocence, tinkling with unadulterated laughter and brimming with a purity of heart we seldom find once we cross over into our youth. Ah! An absolute delight - those days of our childhood.            I often go there for a long walk - in memories embedded in the deep recesses of my mind  -  when I need to  get away from this madding adult world, and find for myself some peace and calm. Those moments of pure joy, when we flitted about like butterflies from flower to colourful flower, taking in those varied scents and experiencing sheer ecstasy.  How palpable those moments seem today, as if it were just yesterday that we were those little people enjoying life, oblivious to the impending future.  Those silly games, the laughter and the tears, the bruised knees and the broken hearts when friends fought for inane reasons. Especially, the games.

A matter of fate.

"DEEPAK!" the teacher bellowed, bringing the constant buzzing in the class to a standstill. "What have you written here, you moron!?" she thundered, as every eye turned towards Deepak, who stood up in his place, nervously shivering from head to toe. We knew that our study session for the day had ended, as this was a daily episode that occurred in Class 9 B.
            "Do you know why your parents named you Deepak?" she continued, as Deepak began fidgeting with his pen. "They wished you would light up their lives. But, the way I see you shaping up, I am sure you will plunge their world into darkness!"  she hollered, as she threw his book at him, sending the last benchers in a bout of  sniggers.

           There were a few giggles from the first benchers, as well. But, it was the last benchers who made the most of this golden opportunity. They loved it when he got scolded; it gave them a chance to escape the teacher's attention, which was now…

#MondayMusings - A handful of joys.

Their tiny fingers entwined in each other's, they walk bare feet on the street, clothed in tatters that barely cover their tender bodies. They giggle at their jokes and  shyly look away when they learn they are being observed!
           These urchins - with their sparkling eyes and tinkling laughter - have been blessed with a life that has so little to offer in terms of the materialistic happiness that we seek all our life. Yet, they seem contented in whatever little  they possess. That old car tyre that goes rolling by as they prod it with a stick, the crooked tin can, filled with pebbles, making the jingling sound when dragged by a rope, that broken plastic bangle that fascinates them, as if it were a diamond bauble! Oh, the pleasure they derive from these seemingly insignificant objects; objects which fill their abject little worlds with countless moments of happiness!
       Will we - the blessed ones - ever find that happiness, in spite of being bathed in a…