Unsure

Image courtesy: Google

Bhumika bit her lip and glanced at her watch as she walked back and forth on the platform. Suddenly there was a deafening hoot and before she could calm herself down, the Kerala Express to New Delhi chugged into the station and screeched to a halt. She looked out through the window at her parents after stowing her luggage. Her father seemed to know exactly how she felt. Anxious and unsure.

“Don’t worry, you will be fine. And we are just a call away” he tried to reassure her. She exhaled deeply in the hope of releasing some of her anxiety about what the future in an alien land had in store for her. She waved till she lost sight of them as the train sped away. She had been excited upon clearing the interview and gaining admission into one of the best colleges in the country but when it was time to leave the comforts of her home town and family, she wasn't sure she could cope.

She thought back to the day she had learned to cycle. Her father used to support her by holding on to the back of the seat while she tried to pedal. Initially she would keep turning back to look at him but soon she was sure of her father’s presence behind her. It had made her confident. Then one day, she had cycled quite a distance before she realised that her father had quietly let go. But he was there watching over her.

As the train stopped at the next station, she felt her muscles easing up. She felt the invisible presence of her parents, ready to hold her hand whenever she needed them. As always, it made her confident.

Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Moody

Image courtesy: Google

My parents are concerned about me. They are worried sick that I may have a serious problem. They don’t like it that I keep to myself these days. They tell me not to me so moody, spending so much time behind the closed door of my room. Painting and poetry befit people of gloom, I am told.

But within the comfort of my room, I am myself. Nobody to be compared with, none to compete with. I spend my time reading, writing, painting and dreaming. I enjoy the slow pace of life here. My mom sees this as a danger signal. She thinks that I’d be better off doing the things she has planned so meticulously for me.

Strangely, those are the very things I loathe. Being dragged from piano lessons to dance class to martial arts to public speaking and debate clubs. Participating in endless competitions. Bringing home shining golden trophies that will be showcased in our living room. A spectacular display of my failure. Failure to freely do what I love.

Sometimes I want to scream. I want to tell my parents that I am not one bit excited about their plans for me. That I find solace in the silence of my room, putting my thoughts into words. I want them to know that I am not insane just because I prefer to be on my own. How can I tell them that it is their plans that suffocate me? Plans where I don’t belong.

As we sit with the psychiatrist, my mother goes on and on about how I am so downcast in spite of them being such encouraging parents and me being an achiever. As usual I keep waiting for my turn to talk knowing that it will never come.

 Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Euphoric

Image courtesy: Google

I nervously paced the deserted corridor that smelled of disinfectant. This was my first time and I didn't know how things would turn out. I said a silent prayer and wondered what it felt like to be on the other side of the curtained glass door. I was clueless and that made me feel left out. I wished I had someone to keep me company to reassure me that everything would be fine.

Would you like to come in?” A head popped out of the glass door.

“Is it allowed?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there. What if I screwed it up and fainted instead of feeling happy and proud?

“Come on in.” She said with a smile.

I changed into a green gown. I could hear my heart pounding and my mind suddenly went blank. I walked up to my wife who was propped up in an awkward position, and held her hand. She was happy to see me and managed to smile even between the bouts of severe pain that made her scream.

Her grip tightened, her face turned red and she let out a blood curdling howl. I watched as a tiny head and then a dainty body pushed its way out, into our world.

“It’s a girl. Congratulations!” Someone had said after cleaning up the baby and swaddling it before handing it over to a delighted me. It was one of the best moments in my life as I looked at her face staring back at me. I kissed my wife who beamed as she held our little princess. I couldn't stop the stream of tears.

“How does it feel? my wife asked me.

 "I am a dad!!! I feel euphoric!!” I said.

Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Brave

Image Courtesy: Google

Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her daughter picking vegetables from their small but well-kept garden. She thought of the little one as the greatest blessing in her life, her sole companion. They lived in a very small house amidst the lush greenery of a small village in the Western Ghats, but even with the limited resources, they lived a life of happiness and endless love.

She ran a small tailoring unit where she sat for hours together, cutting up cloth and making garments along with two other women she had employed. She grew vegetables, kept a few hens and taught neighbouring children in the evenings. Her daughter too pitched in to help though she was all but twelve.

It had been brave of her to stick to her decision of keeping her baby knowing that the journey of an unwed mother was going to be an arduous one. Her parents had cajoled, threatened and finally disowned her to save themselves from embarrassment and public disgrace. Her boyfriend had asked her to be practical. But she knew she was a fighter who would never give up. Not even if it meant the end of her education, luxurious life and the comfort of loving relationships.

She never regretted her choice. In fact she was even more determined to build a new life from scratch with her daughter. Her mind never once wavered even upon being tortured by wagging tongues. She fought her way through life like a brave warrior, without doubts, never turning back.

As her girl came in with a basket full of freshly picked greens, they shared a hug and headed to the kitchen. There was work to be done.

Linking to 
 http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
 http://ultimateblogchallenge.com/
 http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

The World Within My Blanket

Image courtesy: Google

“Shhhhhh…..give me your hand and haul yourself into my world quietly. It is a tender, delicate world in here, under the cosy comfort of my blanket. It is a magical world that you will soon find is too good to be true. I love making new friends, and I’m glad tonight it is you. Come into my world beneath the warm folds of my star studded blanket. A world I have created just to invite friends over and share my fascinating tales. I love telling stories. Be my guest tonight and allow yourself to be enchanted by the beauty of my world.

I am like any ordinary 10 year old girl you can imagine. I live with my parents and little brother in a wonderful house by the brook.  My parents think I’m a kid but I think I’m quite grown up; at least enough to understand all that happens around me. Under the starry blanket, the sky of my world, I live a happy life with a loving family and many friends.

My parents, you know are the best in the world. My classmate Liz says they look beautiful and warm. My brother and I mean the world to them. Both of them are doctors, the kind who speak to people about their problems and try to fix them. I thought only God could do that, from above the twinkling stars. Don’t you think that’s a cool thing to do? No matter how busy they are, they spend a lot of time with us. A lot. We often go on picnics, to the movies, the circus and once in a year we go by plane to a faraway place. We play together, have fun, invite my friends over, cuddle up and read books, go fishing and do so many things together.

My dad and mom I think are the best of friends. Sometimes I feel they are in love! Like the older kids in my school. They hold hands and talk a lot. But what makes my friends jealous is that they never yell at each other or go mad at me. I can tell them my fears and even share some secrets. They listen. They would do anything to keep me happy, I’m sure. Dear friend in my blanket, don’t you think they’re awesome? Hold my hand and tell me you’d love to have a family as great as mine. I really hope you do."

---------------------------

Outside, I hear the click of a door. I poke my head out. Dad is home. I strain my ears to catch the tiniest of whispers. But I don’t have to. The familiar yells, clattering of china, a few sobs, menacing threats and a flow of words I had been asked never to mouth, pulled me out of my blanket sewn with stars. The world outside my world was so different. Which one is real? I don’t want to know. I disappear into the reassuring warmth of my blanket and pull it tightly around me. It is such a beautiful world in here.

Image courtesy: Google

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

Linking to : http://www.writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

The Calling

Image courtesy: Google

I wish to be a farmer

wielding a rake and a hoe

or even teach grammar

and other things I know.

A writer, I’d be happy to be

in a wonderful world of words,

as a traveller, the world I’d see

jungles, canyons and flocking birds.

A singer, an athlete, a scientist

I know I have it in me,

a magician, an actor even an artist-

the options are endless you see.

But I’ll be told when I grow

it is all about the money,

to reap I’ll have to wisely sow;

grown-ups sometimes act funny!

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge

The Special Gift

Image courtesy:Google

The joy of holding gifts unwrapped

faded soon and left me trapped

in a cluttered cage of useless things

I’d fly away from had I wings.

Toys and treats, cards and games

Books and stuff with confusing names.

Parental love made the list endless;

what I truly wanted none did guess.

Did you ask me for a clue

before concluding you knew

what would truly give me joy?

No, it’s not the market’s latest toy.

Next time you wonder what to gift

I hope your attitude sees a shift,

it is clearly your time that I need,

please do pay this wish some heed.

Hold my hand, let’s have some fun

as we play and picnic in the sun,

tell me stories, join me in a race;

say you love me in better ways.

I’ll grow out of all things money can buy,

pleasures of possession will soon turn dry.

But the time you shared I’ll always cherish

like our mutual love that will never perish.

This post was written as part of the Ultimate blog challenge and the Write Tribe Pro Blogger Challenge
http://writetribe.com/write-tribe-pro-blogger-challenge/

Red Apples

Image courtesy: Google

"Apples are red" the teacher said.

Green, yellow too said my head.

"Green apples, tangy and sweet,

bright red ones just like meat,

white inside that time turned brown."

I was wrong said the teacher's frown.

Then she drew an apple with a leaf

And I painted it red with some grief.

"Very good, so bright and neat"

she smiled as she came near my seat.

My friends too did the same

to escape her frown and blame.

Soon I was lost in the red tide around

with just dreams of a place where colours abound.

Image courtesy: Google

Black and White

Anita loved reading stories to her seven year old son. She looked forward to those moments of togetherness, when both of them would cuddle inside a blanket after dinner and step into the truly bewitching world of stories. Fairy tales, stories with moral, fables, folk lore and stories from her own childhood would come alive in their cosy little den every night without fail. Nikhil loved stories that taught him some value. He would imagine himself as the protagonist of such stories and feel like a hero, with so many good deeds to his credit. “I will grow up to be an honest, caring and wise man” he told his mother, who would then feel proud of her kid. “My son will grow up with a lot of good values”, she thought to herself with great happiness.

One evening, as usual mother and child prepared themselves for story time. With great curiosity and interest, little Nikhil listened to a story that taught him the important value of compassion. The story became etched in his mind and he decided to be kind and try his best to help people in need. Apart from wanting to make his parents proud, he also wanted to feel good about helping someone in trouble. Anita told him many more stories that fascinated him, but this one was always in the forefront of his memories. It was his favourite story. He badly wanted to experience the joy of caring and sharing. He just did not know where to get started.

On his way back from school one day, he happened to get the coveted window seat. He was only interested in the window and not the seat. He gazed with childish amusement at all the wayside sights- people returning from work, other school children, shopkeepers and hawkers, beggars, high rises, houses, huts, tents, trees and so many other things. He then saw something that touched a raw nerve. A child of his age was begging on the streets, a baby girl ( probably his sister) in his arms. Initially he was surprised at that sight, but deep hurt and many many questions haunted him during the rest of the journey. Why didn’t the boy go to school? Why were they poor unlike him? How could he help the boy? Nikhil decided to do something about it and bring a smile on the boy’s face.

Anita was pleased that her son empathised with the street urchin. She repeated to him, “Good boys care for others and help them in times of trouble. You feel like helping that boy. So you are very good at heart. Daddy and Mummy are very proud of you!” Nikhil felt triumphant. He was going to give his parents and the boy a big surprise. The next day, he did not take the school bus home. He roamed the streets in search of the boy and his sister. He found them and talked to them. He learned that the boy and his sister had been orphaned. They were hungry and had to beg or pick pockets to get enough money for some bread. His heart went out to them. He seemed to know what to do.

Anita was surprised that the boy hadn't come home. She was beginning to get worried and decided to call the school. Her fears melted when she heard the doorbell ring. She rushed to open the door. What she saw left her perplexed and angry. There he was, her little one Nikhil, holding the hand of a dirty, unkempt kid from the street carrying a baby with dirty nails, tattered clothes and a running nose. “We will take care of them Mummy”, he said excitedly.

Her head was spinning. How could they have kids from the street at home? What if they were part of a group of gangsters? What if they carried some disease? What would friends and family say about these new filthy members of the family? This was ridiculous. No one did such things. She lost her temper and screamed, “What’s wrong with you Nikhil? Go inside, take a shower NOW! And for God’s sake ask these creatures to go back.”

Dark clouds of sadness gathered on Nikhil’s face. He was deeply hurt.” I thought you would like the surprise, Mummy” he cried. The other two kids stared without any expression on their faces. They were used to being screamed at, so they left silently, without any fuss. But Nikhil was inconsolable. He threw himself on the bed thinking about his new friends who left suddenly. That was his first encounter with the hypocritical world of adults which was like a black and white chess board.