A Motherless Child

Stars gleam together

Moon wanders alone

A motherless child

My Angel

The support of family is the first brick of happiness, but it is something that should never be taken for granted and those who have such kind of support are indeed lucky. I would like to share how my mother guided and encouraged me to grow up into an altogether different personality than what I initially was.

This dates back to my childhood when I was thin as a stick and it seemed as if loose clothes are hanging on a pole or somewhat like a droopy flag. This made me quite conscious of myself and to make the matters worse, my teeth were slightly in a zig-zag pattern too. That was the last straw and at one point of time, I was so conscious that I often, on this pretext or that, started spending evenings at home instead of going out with my friends, most of whom were bloated with hanging dollops of flesh, giving me a solid complex. I was neither undernourished nor ill but simply very thin. My mother spotted this complex in me and feared that this might lead to some behavioral disorders in future so she lent me her helping hand that really encouraged me to grow into a confident and self-reliant person.

The first thing she did was to advise to me to join my friends and laugh at myself when they made fun of me, instead of feeling cornered and getting irritated, which they in fact enjoyed. I did that and it worked wonderfully! They no longer teased me when they found me enjoying their barbs. Another big thing she did was to motivate me to take part in school functions and local contests like debates, races etc and definitely not for the prizes but just for the feeling of participation. She told me to accept myself as a beloved child of God and to stay in my skin comfortably all the time and made me understand how a diminished self-confidence leads to a low self-esteem and within no time, a person is reduced to a doormat by the ruthless world around him/her. She consulted a dentist too who said that by the time I’ll be out of teenage my teeth would change shape and I should consider changes or fixtures only then, as teeth in younger age tend to shift and change shapes. Luckily, the zig-zag pattern ironed out on its own in coming years.

So, I started taking part in debates, essay writing contests and school group dances and honestly, it did made me feel confident and reliant. My thinness did not bother me anymore rather I stated feeling happy that I was saved from obesity. Her help not only made me develop into a positive person but also helped me shed all the timidity that had enveloped me.

Such is the help of family members, when other people just poke fun at you and point out flaws, your family can make you turn the same dirt in to a pearl that makes you shine. I shall always be deeply thankful to my mother, my angel who saved me from growing into an introverted and nervous person.

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The Birthday Gift (100 Words Fiction)

I tip-toed inside, holding her birthday gift and looked for her in the tiny room. She was leaning against the window, curiously tracing some passerby on the road far below. Quite painfully, I handed her the small packet but she cried in joy, just how an eight year old would do. When I saw her trying the wig excitedly in front of the small bathroom mirror, it made my heart thump. My child jumped around like a happy kitten and then breathless, bumped into her bed. I couldn't utter a word and quickly rushed out of the Juvenile Cancer Ward.

Image from: punchbowl.com

Bits & Pieces 3

Great Expectations

The seven years old child of an acquaintance bears the brunt of his over-ambitious mother’s unending aspirations. He already attends three or four classes including swimming, music, self-defense and craft apart from school and tuitions. The lady proudly flaunts his abilities in front of every other guest esp. relatives and often forces him to sing-that-song or show-that-stroke, making a museum of sorts out of the weary child. Moreover, she chides him when he isn’t in the top three or four in academics. I think this is a bit too much. Also, the most important thing she has failed to notice (unlike all others) is that, her child never smiles and always keeps a poker-face. To me, he seems more like a tired, confused and sleep-deprived scientist, lost in his own thoughts and equations. To make the matters worse, she is not on very amiable terms with her ever-busy husband. Hence, the entire time and energy is unfortunately directed towards her only child, along with the load of her great expectations. 

(Image: www.illustrationsof.com)

Sanitary Shift

I have been noticing a trend of late. Remember those sanitary napkin ads where burly mothers would come and murmur to the audience how this or that brand saved them from embarrassment. Now, for last five years or so, preteen and teen girls have replaced those middle aged aunties. The protagonist is always a perky school or college going girl who uses the brand, mostly because she likes it and goes for that movie date wearing stark white trousers, smiling cheerfully with her boyfriend. Moreover, these ads have become very graphic too with capacity displayed by literally pouring the blue liquids into the product. Although this accentuates a research that girls are hitting the puberty fast but sometimes I think that some of these ads could have been a bit more subtle and classy. Too much showing of sanitary products (and their details) gives a yucky feeling, especially if you happen to watch them during meals and/or with elders.  

Blame Game

Someone told me about an incident that happened in her neighborhood. A young mother was indecently handled by the hot-bloodied son of an affluent builder, in the community park. The lady, coming from no less a background complained about this to the boy’s father who, instead, blamed her for inciting his son’s youthful feelings. He accused her of spending all her spare time in the park on the pretext of her toddler and attracting boys by giving them ‘wrong signals’. A verbal spat followed and for a few days, the lady stopped coming to that colony park but the father-son duo remained as shameless as ever. Now, this requires attention. No amount of wealth, class and education are enough to change certain deep rooted perceptions. In our society, if a girl is manhandled, she is looked down upon for titillating the ‘young hearts’ and calling for all the trouble. This attitudinal shift is the most important thing and such teachings come primarily from the family itself. Unfortunately, it seems this shift will take forever to arrive. 

(Image: www.shutterstock.com/video)

Mother & Child (Art)

There is only one beautiful child in the world and every mother has it!

                                                                                                            - Anonymous

    

                                                                           

Medium: Pencil Color

A Fruitful Chase

This piece of fiction is my entry for the contest 'Go further to get closer' 

by British Airways @ Indiblogger.in

That day, when Gouri waved me a poignant goodbye and looked at me innocently with those wide blue-green eyes as if reminding me of an invaluable loss, I found it hard to smile at her. Finally, I clutched her tightly; I did not want her to go. She pulled me downwards and murmured something in my ear that made me go pale but I carefully recorded all that on my mobile. My mind began racing in a very different direction, devising a plan to checkmate the evil queen, Divya, who stood in a corner, smiling to herself. I glanced at her and felt a pang, as if someone had backstabbed me. Her fake concern made a poor veil over her impatience. 

Varun bent down and tried hard to cheer up the child.

“Papa…I don’t …” Gouri sobbed.

“You will find many good friends there” he said patting her ruddy cheek.

Had Bhavna been alive, they would have made a happy family. I recalled our happy moments and felt choked. I wanted to make Gouri smile but could not.

The announcement for the British Airways flight to Edinburgh was over. Varun, with a heavy contemplating face, proceeded with Gouri and chuckling, Divya as if celebrated her victory.

After they left, she walked off, smiling ear to ear, leaving me to smolder in the embers she had thrown in our lives. I sat on a bench, alone, somberly sipping my coffee and thinking about this mayhem.

Even though Divya is my third cousin, I came to know her properly only when she married Varun, some four years after Bhavna died. She was closer to her and thus stepped in to save Gouri from some evil stepmother who might make child’s life miserable. We took a lovely illusion for a solid reality and failed to understand the farce underlying her charming exterior. A shrewd game changer, she mastered pulling the right strings at right time and manipulating emotions with utmost dexterity.

“I have married Varun only because of this motherless child” Divya said with tearful eyes when people showered praises on her for celebrating Gouri’s birthday in a grand way, making Varun feel proud of his decision. However, very soon, harsh winters arrived after a cheerful spring.

“I want to fulfill Bhavna didi’s dream. I want Gouri to have the best education we can give her” the devil incarnate began rambling all the time.

“Edinburgh is the land of opportunities and I will make sure my child reaps everyone of them” she said putting her foot down.

“I am answerable to didi in that life” she said looking at my old grandmother.

“Edinburgh is something else! Moreover, my brother lives there. He will be the local guardian. I would not settle for anything less than the best for my daughter” She cried putting a little stress on last two words.

After a month of pottering around sulkily and accusing people of doubting her pure intentions, she had had her way. Varun decided upon a good boarding school in the UK. The most depressing fact was that how a six year old would feel was no one’s priority. She had won. I swear, that day, I wanted to shoot that woman at point blank range.

I opened my moist eyes and came out of the airport with heavy steps, planning a way out to bring Gouri back. After all, she was a part of my sister’s soul and in her I saw Bhavna looking at me with those curious blue-green eyes.

Time slipped like sand in the fist but God helps in His own interesting ways! Only a few weeks later, one of my friends spotted Divya with a tall man, in a high end hotel. That cue was enough for me to jump in action. I played that recording again and geared myself for some solid action. My next two months were spent in playing a spy, following Divya like a phantom. I went wherever she went and made detailed notes of her secret life. She would visit spas, clubs, malls, restaurants and sometimes theatres with one of the three men she was regular with. I also found out that while one was her college dropout ex-boyfriend, the other two were married businessmen, one in real estate and the other in garments.

One day I saw her entering a mall …‘Click...click…click…click’, she walked like a ramp model in her high pencil heels right up the first floor where a tall, clean-shaven man,(that garment businessman) waited for her quite impatiently. After hugs, laments and some jewelery shopping, they went off towards a hotel.

I followed them eagerly, noting down everything, from car number to route description, even the time. This spying became my routine for next several days. However, even though I was a bit nervous, I tried doing the task with utmost secrecy. When I had gathered enough evidence to raise a finger, I approached someone. No, not Varun, but his younger brother. Playing a bit smart, I decided to involve him in spying in order to lend credibility to my case. He gladly obliged!

On a sleepy Thursday, we followed Divya, whose car stopped at a five star hotel.

“There…there goes that heroine” we muttered grudgingly, hiding our faces behind the magazines as she took the lift up with that real estate lover of hers.

“Recorded” I replied.

“Is it the time we tell bhai?” he asked.

“Yes” I said and we went home to arrange the evidence chronologically and then straight to Varun’s office, situated in a prime commercial business centre.

While waiting a few minutes outside his cabin, I tell you, I was seriously nervous. I wiped the little drops of sweat on my neck and forehead but it seemed his brother was seething inside, like a volcano about to erupt. He sat patiently; hands folded on his chest staring at the floor, with strange expressions of resentment.

“You may go in, sir is free” said Varun’s secretary, coming out from his black glass cabin, with files and laptop.

We stepped inside and as usual, saw him totally immersed in work. A half filled cup of coffee lay ignored in a corner while he was busy sending an urgent mailer to a client.

“Sit” he muttered making a gesture.

“Three coffees please” he told someone on intercom.

“Yes, tell me, what is so urgent?” Varun asked, finally paying attention to both of us.

“Here” we replied without beating around the bush and spread all the pictures, phone records and video recordings etc on the table.

“What? What is all this?” he asked perplexed

“The truth. Did you ever wonder why Gouri was sent off abroad for schooling?” I asked, looking into his eyes.

“Because she had come to know of Divya’s affair. Gouri had spotted her with a man in your bedroom. Listen.” I said as I played the same recording in which Gouri had confessed the same to me before leaving for hostel.

“So, she wanted to kick the child, the entire trouble, out of her life and spend her time here and there…We hope you are getting the thing. She has married you for money and not for Gouri.” We said

Varun looked as aghast and shocked as someone slapped tightly in full public view.

“Bhai, when you are here, working hard, she spends her days in spas and nights in hotel rooms. Now, she has none to take care of. Being too far, Gouri would hardly visit even in holidays. And now, Divya has become a free bird, can’t you see?” said his brother.

“And we have the evidence. I wanted to be sure of the child’s accusations before pointing a finger at your wife and that’s why all this” I said showing him the photocopies of receipts we managed by bribing the receptionists of the spas she frequented and also told him how we did all that.

A mixed hue of frustration and anger filled Varun and he stood up in anger, taking his reading glasses off. We wondered how he would handle the biggest shock of his life.

“Here it is. We do not have words to tell you the details” we said

“Now what?”

We showed him a photocopied report of Dr. Mehta’s maternity clinic where Divya had got an abortion done, some two weeks before marriage. This was enough to break the thread. He put his phone on the loudspeaker and called her. She claimed to be at her friend’s place whose son was sick. We then went straight to that hotel room where she was having a fun time with one of her boyfriends and pressed the doorbell hard. Although, mentally prepared for the tempest that would ensue, I had never seen this face of Varun; he looked mad with rage and fury. He was not only heartbroken but the manner in which Divya had backstabbed him was too much for an emotional soul to bear. Divya, whom he had started liking.

On the grounds of infidelity, he was granted a quick divorce. While Divya and her parents still blame me for the ruckus created in their lives, I am alright with it as long as I can save Gouri from Divya’s devious plans, which had begun taking shape. A young, motherless child just needs love and attention.

Today, I find it hard to suppress the cheer! I look at the joyful faces and feel proud! If you have an undying will to change the wrong, no one can stop the good times from smiling at you! Months back, on this very same airport, I was trying hard to control my tears. I wonder how fickle fate can be! It’s never in one mood for long.

All of us, along with my old granny, are here; eagerly awaiting our British Airways flight, to bring our little fairy, the apple of our eyes back! Look! Somewhere in the bright horizon, Bhavna is smiling at me!

Check out this sweet video!

This piece of fiction is my entry for the contest 'Go further to get closer' 

by British Airways @ Indiblogger.in

Thank and Pray

I came across some really touching photographs on social media and Internet. These pictures are painfully stirring and I do not have more words to describe my feelings. I was rather stoned into silence when I saw these. These pictures will also make us stop cribbing about our lives. I hope so. It is not my purpose to drown you into gloom and sadness. Rather, I feel that along with our personal celebrations this New year, we must take out a moment to pray for peace and happiness for all the beings trapped in such bitter conditions. Some of the pictures are given below.

A baby elephant is trying hard to wake up his dead mother, shot by hunters.

An Afghan war survivor eats a bread made of grass.

A child bride enjoys her marriage ceremony, not understanding what it really means. Her groom sits next to her.

A mental asylum in Kandahar, Afghanistan. All the patients are usually tied to hooks. That's the treatment they receive for their whole lives.

A young cancer patient.

No words...

These are just married Child-brides with their husbands who will be legally allowed to consummate marriage once these girls enter 9th year of age.

Finally, something positive- A dog saved from drowning by a dolphin.

My sincerest apologies if these have spoiled your mood for any reason but I could not stop myself from sharing these pictures. 

This New Year, kindly thank God for the life you have.

I got these images via e-mail fwds or on social media.

Internet Links of Images (as traced on Google)-

·         http://youlaughforme.blogspot.in/2008/03/lawyer-and-woman-jokes.html

·         https://www.rainforest-rescue.org/mailalert/905/malaysia-sacrifices-its-elephants-for-palm-oil

·         http://bitchspot.jadedragononline.com/category/religion-2/religious-horror-show/

·         http://www.usnews.com/usnews/photography/whnpa2003/loscalzo_dullah.htm

·         http://livelovelearnbreathe.com/tag/child-life-internship-application/

·         http://cdp.edu.au/cdp/photojournalist/child-brides-stephanie-sinclair

·         http://childreninshadow.wordpress.com/2013/06/15/362/

·        http://www.stuartwilde.com/2013/03/dolphins-save-drowing-dog/

The Jeans Jinx

  The lives of ‘happy’ couples when seen closely can provide new facts and even shocking truths. A lot of suffocation and tiff goes on like a constant undercurrent beneath that lovey-dovey appearance. Girls often complain that in laws are too controlling esp when it comes to clothing. Let me get straight to the point- why is it so difficult for a girl to wear western clothing after marriage? Why are jeans so over hyped in our ‘culture’? I have seen poker faced mothers- in- law strictly reading out rules like a warden to their newly married coy daughters- in-law. If a girl wears dresses (one piece) or shorts or jeans, she is often made to feel obliged and thankful for the ‘openness’ and ‘tolerance’ of her in-laws. While ‘bahus‘ and ‘betis’ clearly have different rules and the double standard is apparent, the former is expected to have high levels of patience and ample maturity to absorb all the fuss the ‘sasuraal-walle’ make about her returning late from work and/or wearing jeans. 

  Well, I am not generalizing since many families do not believe in such double standard crap, but most do. I was still more astonished that even those with strong financial backing and education still want their DIL to behave like ones straight out of those of TV serials. Also, boys too have clearly different choices; while they want their girlfriends to be independent, fiery and like pop stars, they expect their wives to be perfect Indian brides- very motherly and an epitome of Indian culture and tradition.  (GF vs Wife)

 I clearly remember reading a piece of news a few years back. A newly married working woman in Noida divorced her husband because her in-laws expected her to be dressed up in saris all the time, along with full Indian jewelry like anklets, bangles etc. They also made her fast on various petty occasions like ‘ekadashis’ and ‘aamavasyas’ etc. Well, the result was that the girl refused the crap and gave them a piece of her mind…Lovely!

  Why are jeans so over hyped esp for DILs? Is full clothing the only way to rectify a person’s promiscuity? What about our brave sons who have all the freedom on earth to roam and fool around, while we expect their obedient and ‘sanskaari’ wives to sit at home all wrapped up in six yards fasting for well being of their pati-parmeshwars. Our society is clearly hypocritical and rather incorrigible. Wearing jeans does not indicate one’s character in any way and nor does wearing traditional clothes make one more of a saint. I think it is high time we rise above these things.

  An aunt of mine told me about one of her married nieces.

“Oh the family is so modern you know! Lovely people” She said happily.

“What happened?” I asked

“They give so much freedom to my niece”

“Like?” I asked

“Like…They are open people…modern in thinking. They treat her like a daughter…their own daughter.” She cheered.

“I mean, how are they are modern?” I stressed the main point again.

“They are…like she wears what she likes…like jeans etc…and they do not say anything! Such a nice MIL she has!”

“Awesome! how lucky your niece must be!” I remarked.

                                          I hope she didn’t notice me rolling my eyes ;)

(Images from the Internet)

Universal Blindfold

Amongst all the human emotions, some offer huge exploitation potential for the people with tainted intentions. Greed is one, vanity is another; as per Hinduism the two along with anger are also considered the gateways to hell. The motherly love or mamta has, however, been exploited most widely, for all kinds of purposes.

A few days back, a scene on television caught my attention instantly, hence this post. A documentary on Mongolian villages on NG Channel showed how wild goats and other beasts can be domesticated without much botheration.

The locals keep lambs tied uncomfortably to a mule, as hostages to be more precise. This way, the lambs keep crying out in pain and mother wild goats come bleating after them upto the village. Hence, the entire task of finding, catching and domesticating a wild goat is reduced to one single action. Mothers can go to any extent for the sake of their off springs. What the locals there do is basically done by people all around the world; only forms vary.

The romantic love knows no bounds; so does love for progeny, but while the former is often dipped in lust, the latter is as pure as a dew drop from heavens. All over the world and from the times immemorial, people have widely cashed in on the parental love for varied ends, from money to thrones. Even the great Mahabharata battle can be attributed to it: king Dhritrashtra ignored all the evil doings of Duryodhan out of paternal love.

Companies, especially health-foods makers clearly show mothers wishing their kids to be the brightest and tallest in the entire group. This love is more of a mint machine for MNCs.

So, I cannot just blame the Mongolians or the goats; every living being is literally blindfolded with this. The few, who are not, stand out like sore thumb. Isn’t it?  

Images: http://www.indolink.com/kidz/Mbharatpart12.html

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