Polka-dotted frocks

Today afternoon I saw two little girls in pigtails, riding their bicycles and giggling away. Their matching polka-dotted frocks, their smiles and the aura of complete freedom around them made me aware of a pang of envy, of longing for times gone.
There was a time when five little girls would all be fitted out in bright matching cotton frocks with identical patterns and frills, just a specially different colour for each one. Those were days of carefree summers, of youth and fearless adventure. Of mangoes, afternoon picnics, hide and seek, tantrums and umpteen tumbles. I can even see their eyes... happy, wide and guileless. Anything seemed possible then, the world was a personal stage. A place where everybody was meant to be happy.
And then the little girls grew up. Back then, I remember I wanted to grow up fast, real fast. Today I wish, sometimes, that we never did have to grow up. That we could have remained that age forever.  Friends together. Sisters together. Time never lets you stay that young. It snatches away those moments of togetherness. It makes you grow up. As each of us now looks ahead to a new and different life, I hope we shall remember those happy sunny summers. Those shared holidays and the "gachhi" at aji-papa's house that was our permanent adda and treasure trove! I shall miss those times. Always.

Life Lessons

I have gone through life believing I am lucky. Have tried to live life in the open wind and the sunshine. I have had a lovely life, full of the most beautiful people and times. Have believed in kindness and niceness and genuine goodness. Trusted with my heart and had faith, always.

Yet not everything is as lovely as it seems. The harsh light brings with it shadows and darkness. You chance upon people who can spoil everything, people you wish you didn't have to meet ever again. Have you met these blurry, shadowy, seemingly crazy, hurtful and self-obsessed people who refuse to grow up and face the world? They never bothered me before because I thought they were just in that bad phase and that they would change... because people are essentially nice. I have never believed that anybody is inherently mean or bitchy. I have never wanted to believe that any person is crooked within. It is just a bad time for that person. They seem to see a grey and glum world and perhaps decide that the world deserves a grey and glum person.

But the world is as it always has been. Real. Lively. Tough. But worth it. Every moment. And I wonder, why do I have to be understanding enough to wait for someone to see the truth? Wait while it hurts? A waiting I do not deserve. What for? For those who see a tainted world? For those who do not think before they speak or act and who do not see or value anything beyond themselves? How fair is this? Is it better to stay still and wait for this to pass? Should I smile and shrug it off or should I react?

I think I like my life better with its love and warmth and friendship. I choose to believe in that. I choose to let that, and that alone, be my truth, my reality.

Another of R's pomes :P

(An old poem by my lil sister. Found the original handwritten one and laughed over it so much today. Here's to memories of childhood fights and her ability to still see the humour!)

'Tis a night like every other,
'Tis time for my nightly fight,
I must fight for my rights wi' my sister,
She just refuses to put out the lights!

I shout, I argue, I coax
But all of it is in vain.
She just yells right back at me
And tells me I'm a royal pain.

That's it. It's over. Stop it.
I've taken about all I can bear
Now its time for us to call the referee.
And decide exactly who stands where.

Our mother marches in and glares at us,
And berates us for making a din.
We both start pestering my sister
And she eventually caves in.

But she refuses to go down gracefully.
She still will put up a fight.
She bangs about as long as she can
And then reluctantly puts out the light.

And then when the night is almost over,
And when the joy of the fight starts to pall,
She comes and sleeps right next to me.
I mean, we're sisters after all.

--- Rhuta Deobagkar

Charmed Lives

What am I supposed to do with the oodles of unsolicited advice that jumps at me from around every corner? Even when I don't really have a problem in my life, there is always somebody around that wants to convince me that I am facing, or am about to face, a huge gigantic problem and then they proceed to dole out advice concerning the ways and means to tackle this heretofore non-existent problem. Blah!

First and foremost, I lead a charmed life. If that makes you nod your head and sigh at my immaturity or naivety, all I can say is, "Too bad!" and some more "Blah". I have the most awesome friends and family and I love the work I do. If I crib about all or any of the above at times, it is just to entertain myself, and I do that well.  Okay, maybe I do not exactly entertain myself, but some complaining helps to let off steam. It helps me to appreciate all I have after a storm of self pity and self obsession.
Apparently, it makes me seem a lot more interesting if my life is angst-ridden and a veritable tragedy just waiting to happen! The more sorrowful my eyes and the more heart-felt my sighs, the more my life seems 'happening' and 'dramatic'! Albeit, to others. To me it is always dramatic even when it is full of light and  laughter with an unbroken series of highs.

And then, there shall be none...

The weird thing is that we go through life knowing it shall all end. The very fact that I exist implies that I shall cease to do so at some point in time.  And I am sure it is rather silly to live an entire lifetime being afraid of what is, after all, unchangeable! So, though I ought to acknowledge that I have only a finite period of time available to me, it never shall make any sense to fear this. Yet, we are all afraid.

So then I ask myself, if I am anyway going to die one day, and I am very well aware of the fact, what is it that I am so afraid of in my life? And you know what, the answers are many! I am afraid of pain, of not knowing, of loss, of uncertainty. Small little things, but each of them makes me fearful. There have been times, when I would have given anything for the absence of pain, physical or emotional. Other times I would give anything to hold on, to never let go. You might very well wonder what I know of pain and loss in my safe little world. And I must agree it is hardly an iota of the pain of millions of others. And yet, to me, my world revolves around my experiences, and I can only speak with reference to those.

I guess, at the end, it shall matter not whether we were afraid, but it shall matter whether we could live with our fears and yet be tremendously happy.