Friday, February 24, 2012

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

I'm clearly a person who judges a book by it's cover. And I do not hide it :)



The Memory Keeper's Daughter starts off beautifully. Kim Edwards has this way of describing things so delicately and intricately, that it gets easy to flow with the story, turn one page after another. The story holds you so strongly right from the first page. But alas, as the story neared the end, I got a bit disappointed. 

Usually when I finish a book I like to carry something from it, a memory, a thought, a quote, an idea, something that stays with me long after I have forgotten the story. Something that makes me feel sad that the story has ended but something that also makes me feel good about the ending. 

Personally I believe that 'something' was missing in The Memory Keeper's Daughter. It was a beautiful story, but it ended. And it just did that, a blank stop without any lingering memory. 

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Have a Little Faith: A True Story

Once in a while, you read a book which makes you feel like you're listening to a close friend. It makes you giggle out loud. It answers your questions even before you ask them. It makes you want to say, 'Yes, you are right!'.
That is what Have Little Faith by Mitch Albom did to me.


I've not been much of a non-fiction reader, but when I started reading this book, I couldn't put it down. There's one thing about Mitch Albom that I admire, it's not just the amazing people he meets, it's also how he puts their story in such a beautiful style that it makes you feel as if you're too a part of them.

The story is about hope, about how bad people can turn good, about how goodness is still alive in the world, about the life force that guides us, keeps us secure and keeps us together.


Saturday, February 4, 2012

I wish...

Yeah, this is what my computer told me. I'm guilty of neglecting this blog! :(


I wish you the courage to be warm when the world would prefer that you be cool.
I wish you success sufficient to your needs;
I wish you failure to temper that success.
I wish you joy in all your days;
I wish you sadness so that you may better measure joy.
I wish you gladness to overbalance your grief.
I wish you humor and a twinkle in your eye.
I wish you glory and the strength to bear its burdens.
I wish you sunshine on your path and health to carry you on your journey.
I wish you peace — in the world in which you live and in the smallest corner of you heart where truth is kept.
I wish you faith — to help define your living and your life.
More I cannot wish you — except perhaps love — to make all the rest worthwhile.

~ Robert Ward


And I wish the same to you. Each one of you. People who've touched my life. People I'm yet to meet. People I live with. People I cannot live without.


Saturday, November 12, 2011

We'll Dream Together




“Mooooommmm”, eight year old Mickey knocked on her mother’s bedroom door, “let me in!”

“Mick, patience sweetie. Birthday girls are always supposed to be patient!”

“Really?” Mickey got all excited. “I’ll go and get the Operations game!”

“Mickey, you know that’s not what I meant”, Jaya called out through the door. “Just fifteen minutes more darling and we can go. By the time you get dressed, I’ll be downstairs, waiting near the car. Now hurry up!”

“Olwyt.. Iv yew say sow”, Mickey faked a sulk and headed to her room. She was jumping with excitement inside. It was going to a fun evening for her and mom. First going shopping and trying on 50 dresses before they select 5. Her mom clicking pictures as her darling daughter posed, much to the annoyance of the staff; then dinner at their favourite Mexican restaurant, followed by a huge birthday cake just for her and mom, that they would gobble after going back home while opening her presents. She couldn’t wait!

Jaya and Mickey made a good pair, being strong for each other. Sometimes Jaya felt that Mickey was stronger than her. She took it upon herself to make her mom smile, every day, surprising her with hugs, leaving short letters under her pillow every Thursday morning, before she left for school, their weekend ice cream walks, when Mickey would try a new flavour every time and make a face when she didn’t like it but still would finish the whole of it till the last lick. It was like silently, unknowingly, Mickey was teaching Jaya to find happiness in small things. The hilarity of eating a gross flavour of banana and rose swirl and acting like it was the most delicious flavour she had ever tasted, Mickey had the most cheerful soul. She could see her old  self in Mickey’s eyes and she was proud of it.Proud that even when she would be gone, Mickey will have these memories to keep her strong. And she would smile. Jaya worked every day for that. To make her smile, to make sure that Mickey would remain strong even after she was gone. Jaya broke her reverie, not that it would happen in another forty years or so. She had a healthy and happy life ahead with Mickey. She collected all the pages lying on her desk, glancing at the clock. Six minutes and Mickey will storm into the room this time. She finished quickly, tied the pages with a blue string and put the bundle into the red velvet folder she’d stitched. Pleased with her work, she smiled and put the folder in the drawer. Two minutes and Mickey will be here! She quickly changed her top, and rushed to the door. As she swung it open, there she was with her mouth open wide, a big frown and a hand that was held to bang at the door, almost punched her mom in her stomach. And they both burst out laughing. 

“You look so pretty, birthday lady.”

“Where is my gift?”

“Is that how you accept a compliment?”

“I didn’t accept it Mom. I’ll accept it along with my gift.”

“You know the deal, you’re supposed to wait till we get back home.”

“I hate waiting!”


“I love you!”

They jumped into the car. An eight year old with a big smile and twinkling eyes, her dark gleaming hair falling on her shoulders and a thirty two year old with short hair, petite frame, brown eyes with the same happiness in her eyes as her daughter.

“Red or green?” Jaya asked, as she started the car and moved out of the driveway. They’d invented this game on one boring Monday, where they would guess the signal just before they turned towards the main road from their house.  

“RED”, Mickey screamed as she turned on the volume of the music player and started singing along... “Ain’t no mountain high enough...”

------------------------------------------------------------
MANY YEARS LATER


“Ain’t no mountain...” The words brought her to a standstill. It had been years since she’d heard the song. 10 years to be exact, how she’d managed that was still a mystery to her. Her mind was again flooded with memories. Her eighth birthday. Mom in her pale blue top. She in her strawberry red frock. Red or green. Turn the volume down a little Mick. Her mom singing along with Marvin Gaye. Listen Baby. The signal. Red. She won. A loud horn. And... That’s all she remembered. That’s all she could remember. She moved towards the radio, staring at it as if it were a live thing. A birthday dedication. The RJ chirpily said, this song is dedicated to a very special birthday girl... she wasn’t interested in hearing the rest. She rushed to her room, threw open her cupboard. And  rummaged through her clothes. There it was, pushed at the  back of the shelf. Wrapped in white tissue. Did it still smell of her? Or was she just imagining it. She pulled it out and sat on her bed, cross legged. Slowly she removed the tissue, like she was opening her gift for the first time, the gift she had received 10 years ago. She felt a gulp in her throat as she touched the smooth red folder. The velvet faded, over the years but still soft to her touch. A smile was slowly creeping on her face as her eyes welled up. “TO THE BIRTHDAY LADY”, bright blue bold letters. And below it, a Polaroid shot, a sleepy almost 8 year old with an amazingly bright mom. Hugging her daughter tight. She opened the flap... and read the first page. 


Dreams and Memories

Happy Birthday my little lady! No I haven’t put it down as your 8th birthday, because I want you to read and look at this on every birthday. So now, even if I don’t get to gift you something new on your birthday, you’ll always have a gift with you. A gift of memories and dreams. Go ahead Mick, you have made a lot of special memories and now it’s time to dream some more. Some mothers tell their daughters what they dream for them, some tell them to do what they'd dreamt for themselves. Your mom, the loving woman she is, shares here...what she dreams to do with you. So every year, when you or rather we go through this book, we can turn back the pages and tick off the memories we've made and then turn the pages to the memories we are going to make ahead.  And remember, no matter where you are and no matter how old I get, we’ll dream together. Happy Dreaming my baby!

As Mickey turned to the next page, she burst out laughing, her mom with a scowl on her face as Mickey stuffs a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She knew the reason of the scowl even before she saw the next picture. Her mom smiling unwillingly into the camera, her face red and swollen cause of the allergic reaction from the custard apple ice cream. Mickey forgot about the pain she was feeling in her gut few minutes back. She turned to the next page. Six year old Mickey with an evil smile on her face, as she held tight to a fat ugly noisy stinky cat. The next picture, a missing cat poster, with their neighbors address.  She turned to the last page, and took out a CD from an envelope pasted in the back cover. She got up  from the bed, inserted the CD into the player and jumped onto the bed again. 

Listen, baby

Ain't no mountain high

Ain't no vally low

Ain't no river wide enough, baby

She smiled wide and brought out a felt pen. All these years, she hadn’t been able to do it. Make memories without her mother. But today, she no more felt alone. Mom was here with her, in her memories, in her dreams. Nagging her, teasing her, loving her, scolding her. And she began scribbling notes on the pages, next to the sketches Jaya had drawn all those years back. A scrawny girl with a trophy and a big smile. She scribbled about the essay competition she won in 6th grade. A pimply girl with a scowl. She scribbled about the day she got her first period.  A tall girl, blushing cutely and holding a heart in her hand. She scribbled about her first valentine’s when she was 16. And she continued. Scribbling. Reliving all the memories with her mom. Dreaming of the future with her mom. She would never be alone. Her mom had taken care of that. 

~The End~

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Three Things





Three names I go by - 

Kay
Pooh
Bulleee

Three places I have lived - 


Jaipur
Delhi
Koriyama
Three jobs I have had in my life -

A chef for hungry friends
Shopping companion
School project adviser to my cousin



Three TV shows that I watch/ed -




The Modern Family
Gilmore Girls
HIMYM

Three places I have been -

Disneyland
Hauz Khas Village
Colaba

Three places I want to go to -


My school - to relive the old days
Goa - to live on the beach
Japan in April - for hanami

Three favourite foods - 

Mom's food
Homemade gigantic burgers
Donuts 


Three favourite drinks - 



Plum wine
Orange tang
Water

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

10/380


I was a chubby one year old when I got here. To this day, I tell everyone my house’s as old as me. I have been blessed with a not so good memory, but if I dig deep down… I can still see Mom and Dad sitting for the Griha Pravesh puja. I remember sleeping in their room and getting scared at night, that the Onida ghost will come out from under the bed. I grew up a bit and learnt he was just a silly actor. I had my own room by then, which I shared with my brother. Mom had made this seating arrangement near the window where we could sit and read. Then there were the pyjama parties, though we probably wore shorts (or knickers like we referred them), a group of brothers and me, how I learned to cry to get my way every time, how we made tents out of bed sheets and created our own mansion in the room, how we played dark room and cards (religiously), and decorated our very own Christmas trees every year and had a feast. As we grew up we moved on to more mature games, like Scrabble, Life, Scotland Yard, etc. Games changed and moods changed but the room remained the same. My brother and I soon had our own rooms when we got too snobbish to live with each other.

When all the kids got together, the room got too tiny to sleep in together… So we put mattresses in the living room or on the terrace every night. I used to love sleeping under the dark sky in the summers, though there were times I was petrified that a screeching bat would come and bite off my nose (Don’t ask me who fed me that horror tale!). The terrace was again my favourite when it rained. It was wide enough to run, skid, slip, slide and do just about everything.

My room and the terrace were the two most favourite places for me in the house. After them came my parents room, the bed was always cool enough, the pillows were always soft enough to get the most sound sleep.


Then came the garden, my parents have both been blessed with ‘green fingers’, though I do not particularly enjoy getting my hands messy in the wet mud, I felt proud of the way the garden looked. Come springtime, it used to be vibrant with colours, think of a colour and it would be there! Pink, Orange, White, Yellow, Blue, Purple, Brown, Green, and colours which I don’t even have a name for. My mom loved the garden, would toil hard to keep it pretty. Be it winters or summers, she made sure her plants were taken care of properly and Dad would love clicking pictures of the countless flowers that bloomed every spring season.





The time when I really loved the house the most was at Diwali. When I became big enough to handle a candle on my own, it was my sole responsibility to light the Diyas around the house. So come Diwali day, I would set to work when it would still be bright outside. It took me two-three hours to place the Diyas covering the entire façade of the house. Once I was done, I would call Dad to come out and click pictures and out he would come with his camera and tripod. I would ask him to click several photos from a same place, in case some got messed up. For this sole reason Diwali was, is and always will be my favourite season and for this sole reason, I wish to have a house of my own someday that has a big façade along with a garden.
When college started, I left the house, left the hometown. I never knew how the home-stay would be temporary from then on. But with college and its 101 adventures, I never really missed home much. Except when I starved for good homemade food! College soon got over and I ended up moving further away. That’s when I started missing home and every nook and corner of it.  And I still do.
Today, the house is no more a home for me, the garden is bare, the plants and pots are gone, and everything inside the house from old bundled up books to weathered boots, everything which made the house a home is not there.
After 25 years, Mom and Dad sold it for a bigger, better and quieter place. I could not come when Mom and Dad packed all our stuff and moved it out. I wasn’t there when the neighbourhood aunty came to meet Mom feeling sad that we won’t live there anymore. I wasn’t there to say goodbye to my room, my terrace and my neighbours. I wasn’t there to see the rooms bare, to see the kitchen bare, to see the façade bare. And I feel glad.
The image I have of that house in my mind is a home with a beautiful garden, with a comfortable living room with old wooden chairs, with my room the way I left it, with the kitchen smelling of Mom’s cooking. And this image will stay with me forever.
This post is my way of saying goodbye to house number 380. To look back on all the wonderful times, the not so wonderful times, the fights with my brother, the festivals, the ‘knicker-parties’, the arguments, the dressing up sessions with Mom, the all nighters with friends, the childhood games, the birthday parties, the school days, the summer vacations and thank Mom and Dad for making it the best home I could imagine.



Tuesday, August 9, 2011

What hasn’t killed me has made me stronger indeed!


The first time I wrote a post on this blog.. these were the pledges I took. Four year later.. I think it’s time for a review!

  • To keep myself active (Ahem.. Getting up at 7:30..  walking regularly.. that’s as active I’ve becomet) 
  • To prevent life from getting tangled every third day (Hmm.. Instead of every 3rd day.. it’s now thrice a month.. good progress I’d say!)
  • To get up early (7:30 is early enough for now!)
  • To sleep not so late (12 is no more SO late)
  • To take care of my health ( I survived 4 years without any major illnesses..)
  • To do things that make me happy (Ahh.. Eat.. Sleep.. Work.. Talk.. Shop.. keeps me happy!)
  • To study ( guess I should've put this as the first one) (HA!.. Been there.. done that. Period.)
  • to bitch a little less (I am a woman.. what more can I add here)
  • To read a little more ( I do as much as I can)
  • To stay happy come what may (I try. I succeed)
  • To keep my cool (I think I have learnt a bit how to do so)
  • To save money/electricity/water/food/everything that I can (I try my best..)
  • To take decisions on my own (that I do.. But I do need help when I can’t decide what to have for dinner :-/)
  • To stand up for my rights :D  (O yea!)
  • To stop swearing (Umm.. I learnt more in the past few years)
  • To keep pledging.... (Hmm… Later!)


Four years… So much as changed and still so much has stayed the same. People have left. New people have arrived. Memories have faded. New memories have been created. I still work constantly on myself. I understand better now, what matters and what doesn’t. Who matters and who doesn’t. I have learnt to be strong to the limit of being arrogant. I have learnt that things change. People change. Feelings change. I have learnt to enjoy company. I have learnt to enjoy being alone. I have learnt that life goes on.

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