The Balancing Act

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 an

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 tr

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/

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…

More than two years now, life has been on a brink, edgy and not so pleasant and things got more chaotic since last month, this month has been a long one, a painful one, an unsettling one in the real sense. I long for peace of mind, long for a cosy home where I can unwind and be myself , long for the chattering of the kids, their fights, their play and dance everything that irked me before around a home has suddenly come rushing towards the heart and knocks at it to experience it all over again. Mind does somersaults and thinks of the worst things which can happen, doesn't settle on anything, not at work, not at reading and now that a new month is going to unfold and some truly religious days are here I pray to the Goddess , Maa Shakti to bless us with peace of mind, stability and lots of happiness and a home to warm our hearts... And a special word to all the readers who come to my blog and do not leave a word, I do not mind your silence at all, even I am a blog hopper and not eve

Once in a lifetime you become lucky enough to meet someone who changes your life forever, for the better. Our beloved Chairman man was such a person in my life, he might not have ever realized while he graced this earth with his benign presence the kind of influence he had on many people’s lives. He passed away on Wednesday, September 14th,2011, evening, leaving us all grief stricken. When a few years ago he directly interviewed me and I had the privilege to report to him for a year, what I learned from him was attention to details, to be proactive and to have answers to all his questions which were always direct and in turn he always demanded a precise, to the point and direct answer, which made me know my work better. Just a glance from him was sufficient to put even the mightiest person in place, his sharp mind and Engineers logic made him superior to all and sundry, his tall and broad frame overshadowed most of the average people. Inspite of being on medication for the last two

Why is it that certain childhood memories never seem to fade away, no matter how many times I think about it or write about it or visualize it or go back in time.. I do not seem to get enough of it. I know I am on the wrong side of thirty but surely I have not reached an age where my life’s sequences have taken a tumbling and the bottom most has come to the top and vice versa. Not that I hate anything about my childhood ,at least not about the part which I spent in Kerala, with my grandparents, thinking about it makes me realize time and again that I am a loner, even those days I liked to sit alone with a book or my box full of toys playing alone. or just to loiter around the house or sit on the verandah and gaze at the green paddy fields which stretched beyond…. Even today when I am sitting amidst a crowd I feel alone.. I have friends but I always long for someone to whom I could talk freely, without being judged and somehow I always end up talking to myself and yearning to write it

Just finished reading a collection of short stories of Ruskin Bond. He is such a natural and perfect writer, he takes you along on his trips through the hills, amidst the oak trees and deodar trees which he seems to love so much. The rains in the hills and the blue zig zag lightnings, the pine trees, the small ponds and the slippery roads after a good rain gives such a pretty picture of nature in its full glory for people like us who are always thirsty for greenery as we are living our lives in midst of concrete jungles. How I wish I could lay hands on every single piece of literature written by him, just enjoy the books leisurely, imagining each scene described by him , understanding the simple, rustic characters in the book . I have given the collection of short stories to my daughter to read, I hope she would enjoy it equally..

My first train journey was when I was 5 years old and traveled from a small sleepy village of South to the national capital of India decades ago and it was a first class travel, I remember it vaguely and I do not remember having come across any discomfort during the journey, and that was the only train journey which I remember and do not cringe…. After my first train journey, I traveled many times in train during vacations to get to down south, well, those journeys were terrible, for one we used to travel by general sleeper class, and I for one totally abstained my self from visiting the dirty toilets all the two and half days we had to sit in the train.. and believe me it was a tough job…then time fled I grew up , got married and started traveling in AC coach and in vain I thought we will have good facilities… it was not that bad.. but bad enough… Then one fine day I traveled by Shatabdi to chandigarh and near by areas of Delhi, and was thrilled, not only did I like the short and swee

“Why some people have it easy without having to choose, while others suffer no matter how hard they try to make it better is beyond me” These are the words of a financially independent but emotionally scarred and vulnerable woman who wrote on IHMs blog and there was a plethora of people advising, sympathising, empathising, admonishing. Well, the easiest job one can ever dream of is advising others, and asking innumerable, hard hitting questions. It is very well taken that all these questions are asked in allegiance, as in showing a solidarity to the victims suffering. But as this girl rightly asks above, some people has it easy and some people never make it inspite of trying hard till they crumble and wither away. Not every woman is born with the power to resist domestic violence or to revolt against the daily sufferings, for every bold decision taken by a woman it has to have to the support of three things, all together or just one of it would suffice and that is Money, education,

Long ago in a faraway place Loneliness crowded around It stifled on the two stairs It teased the jasmine flowers And it cornered and huddled Around a tall coconut tree Bearing orange coconuts Tender and attractive Hot wind blew below it And the sleepy afternoon bled green The pineapple bushes swayed Light tender parrot green Spread on to the paddy field Across the paddy field Lay the railway line Bringing along a goods train Sometimes coughing sometimes running And the odd passenger train Brought along a bounty of colours Brown of the train, colours of the clothes Of the strangers who waved from afar Happy and sad , may be at a reunion Or a separation Bringing along a tinge of excitement And a flurry of hands waving Stopping midway of planting saplings Or mending the field As dusk falls, lanterns glow a burnt yellow Lamps adorn the front yard Bells of cycles fade away Croaking of frogs building into a crescendo Pitch darkens envelopes the well and the surroundings A lone tortoise slowl

Sometimes I yearn to shrink into nothingess To become a void, non existent Or to become something or somebody Who can pretend not to be there Just let things go by just as it is Not to ponder, not to ruminate, not to plan And not to feel good or bad Not to wallow in self pity and not to shine In a self induced halo Where is the balancing act Has it disappeared or is it a very difficult task I do not know, I just wish to disappear Into nothingess or let something cover me up From head to toe and block my ears Seal my eyes and ask that heart to stop Just stop pinning up hopes, holding on to broken things Hanging on to a thread , yet daring to look below To frightening gorges and dark deep valleys And looking above, finding nothing, Only scattered blue and white Sometimes turning into monstrous grey Will power, what is that, is that a myth Or just a concocted story Made up by people who had to go through Hell and never look at hope and still could never Shrink, shrink back to nothingness

Some warm homes resonate with laughter Warmed by a mothers care And awakened by peals of a daughters laughter Some homes remain dry In anticipation of a son Ignoring a daughter and her worth They spend their years waiting Talking, planning and hoarding sympathies Looking yonder while ignoring the treasure on lap The mother too weighed down by tradition, Expectation and her own worth at stake Mulls away her time waiting for the hour to arrive, When a male child would adorn her crown And make her life worthwhile Is it you or me or all of them Who have made this thorny way Ignoring the steely determination of so many mothers So many wives and so many sisters Who provide for their children, their husband and their brother So many daughters flocking to their parents in old age Providing for them, loving them and being with them Every day you are eve teased, Sometimes raped, sometimes murdered Put in a bag or pushed from a train Hungry eyes tear you apart Lonely nights lurking in pain but st

Freezing moment This happened almost a year back. During my daily commute to office along with my colleague in his vehicle I used to see some daily sights and people, who became a daily part of the 50 minutes drive to office. One of the sights was of a beggar woman along with her old mother (seemed like) and two little children , one a girl of almost 4 years and the little boy was always on her hip and he was almost 1. I used to see her at the traffic light every day, and it seemed she slept on the nearby pavement, this was a busy road and by the time we reached the spot, we used to see her begging for some money and then bringing tea and biscuits for her mother and children, by the look of the pavement and things strewn around there I could make out that she lived there itself, maybe. I was really upset to see her everyday in this condition, her clothes were torn and tattered, the boy did not have any clothes below his waist, the little girl also wore a torn frock, the mother was

Time does wonders. It mellows down people, it hardens hearts, it brings dreams crashing down, it pushes hopes soaring high, it brings life to grinding halt, but it never stops and never looks back. It is me and you who are caught up in the sands of time who travels down the memory lane or builds castles in the air about a few years into future, it is so funny but the speed of time , whether it is going fast or is crawling by, totally depends on the situation we are in , when we are happy time flies, when we are sad time just hovers around refusing to move. All those happy days in school and college when we had no care in the world seems to have zoomed past, the courtship days filled with rosy excitement and sweetness of chocolate on every meeting has just disappeared so fast. When the day of marriage dawned it filled the tummy with rainbow coloured butterflies, by the evening the fragrance of jasmine filled the air, time whizzed past and now on this day of my twelfth wedding anni

Happy Birthday to my daughter The wails got louder As the nurse bathed you 9 years ago It was a cloudy, cold day And the new born you resisted the bath your own way I gathered you in my arms Kept you close to me It felt so strange having to look after , A frail little baby depended so much on me I was scared to take you in my arms You looked so red and so angry That you had to come out early My stitches hurt and I was tired All I wanted was to sleep some more But you wanted so much of attention Now you have grown up baby You have your own likes and dislikes Sometimes you are so funny You like to read only when you are in the mood You write well and you remember your lessons so well Only you want to play some more And also to watch tv some more Especially Barbie and her stories You have grown so tall And you look so beautiful Your hair is much longer than mine And I am so proud of you Soon you would become a little lady Beautiful and graceful Soon I ‘d be graying and aging But I shall s