The lost lantern days....

Long long ago , amidst the flickering dim light of a sole lantern, which precariously hung on the verandah I followed her word by word, her strong and determined voice, revising her days lessons, her hand deftly drawing the triangles of geometry mesmerized me to no end. The gleaming silver paper with which she covered her note books reflected the yellow pale light of the lantern, accentuated by the pitch darkness around us. Me in my little red frock, bent over my wooden bordered slate with milky white slate pencils in my hand imitated her, her seriousness and tried becoming like her.

During the day when I went to the tiny little school, if you may call it so, it was a make shift room, made up with coconut leaves and bamboo sticks, the old ‘ashan’ or master made the kids , me and many like me write Malayalam alphapets on the white shiney sand which was spread on the dark brown earth of the makeshift room, each one of us was made to write with our forefinger on the sand , the ‘Ashan’ held our tiny hands to make us write the complicated, rounded exotic alphabets, but the effect was so deep and so impactful that till date that very feeling of my forefinger on the sand following the shape of the alphabets has never left me and I shall in my life never forget those alphabets, that sand, that makeshift school and the old ‘Ashan’. Well it was here that I also tried to be like you , to be ahead of everybody, to recite the countings, to be the first one to finish all the tasks, but I failed, miserably.

There is something which I drastically lack in me, I don’t think it is about smooth talking, good listening, is it about being too bossy I do not know, but every time I fail, I languish in self pity, I feel like that lantern which though used to give us the much needed light in the pitch darkness but we always longed for electricity and the electric light which we could see as a dot in the castle like house across the paddy field, across the railway line .. we always undermined the importance of the lantern and me and her always looked longingly across the railway line at the dot of light , making the lantern fail, fail miserably… well coming back to her.. she was the anchor , the much needed laughter and the warm blanket of affection which carried many a tale of my secrets, sometime crushes, sometime forbidden novels and sometimes just a good cry on her lap …even a day before my wedding day I cried my heart out on her lap, feeling happy and sad and sadder on the thought of going away…. I was like an extended body part of hers, more like a tail which hung behind her , everywhere she went. In those lantern days whenever her teenage friends visited and she used to take long rounds of the house along with her friend I used to follow her at a safe but annoying distance trying to catch a word or two of the whispering talks they used to have, irritating her to no end.

I used to wait on the mound of orange gravel heaped on the side of the house jumping on it , sliding on it , sometimes looking at the brown and black bodied red eyed bird which used to visit us regularly , which used to perch itself on the lowest branch of huge and tall wild jack tree. Finally having exhausted all my options , I used to get hold of the old magazines kept in a cracked wooden shelf, the magazines had an old ,enchanting smell, the smell of old paper, though I could not read much, it helped me wile away time till she came back from school, and we could have our rice and heavenly fish curry made by my grandmother, expertly.

Then after a long , eventful life of being her extended body part, her tail, her baby, her friend, then a partner in crime, a secret keeper, a confider , I walked away just like that with the help of my mouth which mouthed angry, hurt words and threw it at her venomously, all because of some sinfully young and adept charmer of a young one in the family, who daintily smoothened her fragrant lacy skirt and sat in my place, yes, my place which was right there, in her heart and believe me it hurt and it still hurts like hell , I feel like a rudder less boat swaying in the current of times, I long for the warm blanket , I go back to our lantern days and my obsession of imitating her.. I do not know what is wrong with me at this ripe age of wrong side of thirty.. am I becoming the little girl in red frock bent upon her slate with white slate pencils and trying hard to be like her making round alphabets on the white shiney sand.. I do not know.. I do not know…….but I do feel lonely and clueless so unlike the age I am in… I long for the laughters, the loud voices of our talks , the low whishpers of ours which will never happen now …never…

A Tag for my silent readers...

A HUGE thanks to Deeps (http://www.deepsspeakingup.wordpress.com/)
for tagging me and giving me the 'Versatile blogger award'. Well first things first the rules of the tag is as below

 Add the Versatile Blogger Award picture to your Blog Post
 Thank the Blogger who nominated you
 Share 7 Random things about yourself
 Nominate 15 fellow Bloggers
 Inform the Bloggers of their nomination

1. Ummm well let me tell you here that I am a random person with actually random interests at random times..well I want to learn french, learn crocheting, sometimes I want to travel and sometimes I am dying to get into gardening and I am doing none of these..

2. I can read and write really fast and when I was in school/ college I used to write so fast that sometimes after giving the exams , waiting outside for my friends for hours together, I used to feel that may be after all 'did I really attempt all the questions'?

3. I love writing .. I want to write like Chitra Banerjee, Anita Nair, Elizabeth Gilbert, Arundhati Roy , I want to sound like Ruskin bond, but I do not seem to be getting around anywhere.. what with not even 60 posts in more than 3 years.. hmmm..

4. I fear of sounding too meloncholic sometimes because of which most of my posts are in the 'draft' folder rather than in the 'published' folder.

5. I love exercising..welll at least I think I do ;) .. but I never ever get the time to do it and if at all I do .. I end up doing it maximum for a week..

6. I am an avid blog hopper and most of the times.. I leave a comment too.. though I hardly get any on mine.. and those who visit are mostly with 'No comments' policy :)

7. I really did not know so many random things about myself till the time I actually sat down to do this tag.. well tags are real fun and eye openers for random stuff about self ;)

Well till step 3 it was easy, but honestly I do not have a list of 15 bloggers,so please .. my silent readers, my friends, you are all tagged here so please get going..

To my heart's mirror image - with love

More than two decades back , I was you
Even now I have some little of you left in me
I had the same need for hugs and kisses
The same insecurity , the same urge to impress my mother
The same love hate relationship with my sister
But I am so glad that you are so much better than me
You love your sister and express it often
More than I ever did to mine
You can hug and kiss and let your emotions show
That is so much of what I always wanted to do
I am so sorry if I am not the mother you want me to be
I am so sorry for not being able to be with you always
When you need me badly for a hug or just to be there
Your birthday just went by
But you were such a sweet baby
You did not make a hue and cry for party or friends
You Just let it go with much ado
Happy with a dress and a chocolate cake
So unlike children of your age
I love you so much and I feel for you so much
You innocence and your love
Let it take you along and make you the most lovable person
And remember , I love you more than I can ever tell
And more than you will ever know
Happy tenth birthday my sweet heart – my first born, my darling daughter

No resolutions – only a prayer…..

Life has strange ways of telling you things, teaching you lessons. When going through such lessons of life, the time seems to stretch beyond the horizon, never ending, everything else looks so normal and everyday that sometimes I wonder at the normalcy of things, such times looms large in front of the eyes and seems to never fade away. However, life has to go on, because you have to come above the bruises and harsh lessons and learn to let go and continue with life because that is what you need to do as per the need of the hour.

The last couple of years which went by, taught lessons after lessons, like , to learn to cope with loneliness, to learn to know that at the end you are your only best friend, you need to understand yourself better, you need to respect yourself and you need to justify your presence in this world, this year has taught me to mellow down drastically, to brace myself to make peace with situations, to try hard to rise above theory and to be practical, to try and force myself to change and at the same time to struggle to be myself..

So this year has no resolutions from my side only a prayer to the Lord Almighty to give strength to go through the tests of time….and to bestow peace and good health on my loved ones.........

Wishing a very Happy and peaceful New Year to all of you….

The dilemma

I do not know what that Chinese author said about bringing up kids, whether Indians and Chinese parents are strict and self imposing but I know for sure that there is always the age old dilemma for a parent, whether Indian or Chinese, or any other nationality, when she is posed with the age old question ‘Mamma you love me more or her’??.

This is particularly about those parents who have two children whether same gender or not. This question is sure to pop up if not today then tomorrow, irrespective of the age gap between the two children. Like every parent I am also baffled by the question every time this is put in front of me, it grows two hands too large and long to stifle me and shut the life out of me because this is exactly how I used to torment my mother. Well, what goes around, comes around, so in all fairness I have to cringe and bear the question which both my daughters one by one pops to me time and again , and each time, I want to curl up and die, what else??

I have tried to analyse if I really love one child more than the other and I must accept here that though it is not about loving a child more but the younger one definitely gets a more softer and lovey dovey approach than the elder one, the elder one by default, every time has to be right and proper and do the sacrifice and be the patient one just because he or she is elder. No matter what but they will always remain the elder one and no matter what the younger one will always remain the young and naïve and shall be allowed all the concessions just because he or she is younger.

I have seen many homes where the elder child is always at the receiving end but I have not seen many elder children who are the sacrificing, patient type, they all give it back when the right opportunity comes, yes and fair enough ! (see the elder child in me staunchly supports this) . Well , let me quote an exception here, there was a friend of mine who was so caring and so forgiving so soft and and so loving towards her younger sister that I used to feel like a devil with two horns when I was with her and her sister and can you imagine she was younger than me and had such a stream of goodness in her. The guilt which I used to feel for all the bullying I did to my sister or all the complaints and accusations I hurled at my mother was at it’s height when I used to meet this friend of mine, the after effect was that I used to make an extra effort to be nice and good to my sister and mother but this 'extra effort ' was always short lived and as any after effect, it wore off quickly bringing me back to my whining , complaining self.

Well .. I digress.. so I have decided to tell my children to decide on their own about the answer to their question as to whom I love most.. because I am still not clear as to whom my mother loves the most !!!!!(sic)

for people like me

For people like me who lose heart and patience and will this is a must read from Preeti Shenoy, Love your writings Preeti... thanks ....

http://justamotheroftwo.blogspot.com/

between hope and despair

Somewhere between hope and despair
Lies the river of melancholy
Every one has to cross it alone
Sometimes there is a smouldering amber in the heart
But its covered with layers of holding back
Sometimes there is a lot to talk about
But the only soothing lifeline seems to be silence, and only silence…