I wasn’t me. Anymore.

It wasn’t 8 o'clock. It wasn’t a time for breakfast. It wasn’t a pleasant day. It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t a weekday. I wasn’t asleep. I wasn’t reading a newspaper.  I wasn’t fiddling with my phone. I wasn’t waiting for my turn for bathing. I wasn’t told to get groceries. I wasn’t planning my day. I wasn’t wandering in my house. I wasn’t standing at my wardrobe. I wasn’t ordering anything online. I wasn’t looking at the clock. I wasn’t doing yoga. I wasn’t calculating my heartbeat per minute. I wasn’t listening to traffic outside. I wasn’t switching on the light. I wasn’t messing up my room. I wasn’t doodling. I wasn’t staring at the ceiling fan. I wasn’t counting the footsteps of my mother. I wasn’t playing hide and seek with the sun and shade.

But, it wasn’t my day. For sure.

I wasn’t delaying my shaving time. I wasn’t careless with my trimmer. I wasn’t disliking my beard. I wasn’t planning for a new beard style. I wasn’t dicey about retaining my facial hair. The trimmer’s speed wasn’t slow.  It wasn’t in my control. It wasn’t loving my beard. It wasn’t following the trimming instructions.  It wasn’t doing the right thing the right way. It wasn’t a perfect move. And there it was, my face with an ugly cut on my mustache. And to make it look good. I had to chop off my long nourished beard.

But it did make my day. My grandmother was happy. As she had told me zillion times to chop it off. My aunts were happy.  My family was happy. And now I could see my complete face after a long dark shade of my beard.

But it wasn’t me. I wasn’t delighted. I wasn’t able to recognize myself. I wasn’t with my identity. But it will definitely reincarnate. In an angelic fashion. And I will take care of it this time.

Mesmerizing

‘Dance can I you with!’

‘What?’

‘Oh Damn. Your face. Made me jumble everything.’ 

Peace Initiative

He acted like a Letter ‘P’ in ‘Psychology’ at a peace summit. But he was misunderstood as Letter ‘H’ in ‘Hour’. 

It's you.

I can see a silhouette. 

Far from my window. 

The drizzle outside,

 makes it hazy. 

But hey! Am sure. 

It’s you. 

Celebrating 9 months. For the first time. After 26 years.

This week, I turned 27. Conjointly, it was a birth of one more individual. One more identity. One more relation. That I always ignored. Motherhood. This was the day when a woman conceives the most precious and priceless call from her new born kid ‘mother’. The feeling that no other thing in this world can replace.

As I can recall, almost on every birthday, my mom would wish me by saying ‘happy birthday to me’. As in to her. And we would just laugh it off. But this time I actually realized. It was not just the day when I was born. Rather, it is also the day when any individual, any woman celebrates Mother’s Day. In real.

And this realization, gave me unfathomable joy. And it took almost 26 years.  To actually feel the pain, the happiness, the toil, the tolerance, the patience, the love, the joie de vivre of giving birth to a child and celebrating child’s birth year after year. Today I believe, more than us it is the lady, our mothers who are the most blessed and ecstatic souls on this occasion.

Thank you mom.

And yes Happy Birthday to you!   

Washed.

Stalking sun. 6 o’clock getting up. Newspaper words. Soccer shoes hanging at the verandah. Tulsi plant. Scrapped floral vase. Toy rail. Servant’s green slippers. Window grill. Uncut white marble. 20 years old engraved name on the wall.  Wet towel. Isolated red sand brick.  Two-wheeler’s leather seat. Dust splatter on the car.  Letter box. Telephone wires. Name plate on the door. Giant Oak tree. Temple’s roof-hung bell. Fruit selling hawker. Shoes mender. Rickshaw-cycle’s back seat. Crowd under Bus-stop shade. Pigeon on the lamppost. Peahen’s vocals. Car’s side rear view mirror. Road puddles. Metro rail wipers. Last night’s dream. Yesterday’s moments. Perceptions. Differences. Relationships. Endings. Options. Choices. Hard days. Got Washed. Thanks to Rains. Now, it’s a brand new day. Make a fresh start, Make the most of it. Let the bygones be bygones. Sip every drop of nowness. Get drenched in every emotion your heart mirrors. Happy Raining!  

And I’m back.

It was bit tough. Embarrassing. Depressing. And frustrating not being able to do the right way what you are not good at. Or something you are not born to do. Everyday stress takes over you leaving no space for you to focus on your performance. Making you switch to something else which doesn’t interest you.

But giving up was never an option. I am talking about my writing skills. I am not a natural writer. Neither was it my passion or ambition. I landed up in writing just by chance. But it is my bread and wine earner. But many a times I ditched it. Hated it. Ignored it. Shunned it. Rejected it. Cursed it. And abused it. For giving me no happiness. And peace of mind. We both were neither married. And were neither happy.

But I am no loser. So the plan is to change this chance into choice. To chase. To woo every word, every sentence. With no full stops. Without stopping. To make every effort to make it my better half. For the rest of my life. I want to love it. Woo it. Pamper it. And win its heart over. I want to make it stay with me forever. Helping us grow together. Prosperously. 

Therefore, I decided to learn. To practice and apply it in real. To read. To read even more. So that I can write as fluent as I doodle or click pictures. I have started working on my grammar. And writing on everyday basis. It will take time for sure. It will still trouble me till the time I horn it. But slowly and steadily I will win. For sure. But I’ve to do it to ease my life ahead. Because somebody once said to me that there are two kinds of people. One who are born talented. One second who ward hard to horn their talent. I am of the later lot. But nevertheless sooner the better.

So, here I am all set to begin the lost stumbled journey. With a hope to reach a destination. To achieve the victory. For good. To prove it to myself and to many others that writing is still my cup of tea. And I can prepare it pretty well. To compete you in a real healthy way. Cheers.