Every vacation I wished I could do something so much more different than I have ever done. One day before the vacation, over two burgers and a coffee, came up the amazing plan of performing a radio program which was something I had wanted for a long time! There were discouraging talks but at the […]
A strange feel always engulfed me as a child. In the midst of calm afternoons while my dad was lost in reverie with his transistor playing an old melody or while my mom was enjoying her siesta I paced beside them restlessly. trying hard not to make a noise, carefully observing their rhythmic breathing. At times I even ventured moving my hand across their nostrils to feel their breath just to make sure! Yes, I was restless, anxious lest that becomes their final nap. It was kind of absurd and baseless fear but it happened inevitably,every single time. At that point of time I really didn’t know whether it was insecurity, paranoia or plain love. The moment my parents woke up and I would laugh away my fears and feel unburdened of my fears.
A few years later when I shifted to another city, marriage and kids later too, this seamless fear kept haunting in the background. I persistently telephoned them at that hour fully aware of their belligerence. Years later when my parents shifted to the same city as mine and started spending most of their time with me, the feeling had substantially reduced. Times flew and owing to old age the health of my parents started deteriorating and rapidly so. It was a phase when I stressed emotionally, physically and mentally. Things went from bad to worse and my dad had to be in ICU. Doctors announced that they were pretty much done with their efforts and were of the opinion that the vegetative state my dad was in was likely to continue and worsen steadily. Now, it was De ja vu, paradoxically. though! I felt shattered at the sight of my dad lying unconsciously entangled in wires and tubes and liquids.I found myself praying for him to be liberated, to be freed of the pain he didnt deserve . I found myself checking his irregular breathing which was the only thing that tagged him as not dead, as yet. I found myself expecting those breaths become feeble and come to a nil.The same daughter who barely let him enjoy his afternoon naps counted his last breaths and waited impatiently for them to halt.
THAT has always been the question! be it something inconsequential or a life impacting decision, it always has been a ubiquitous, perennially haunting question. This or that.’ which one ‘followed by ‘why not the other one?’.The need to make a choice, always a spoiler. Annoying sense of flickering arises deep down your stomach that the trauma almost seems physical. the pros and cons stage a vicarious dance,feels like a roller coaster once in agony and once in ecstasy, but mostly a mix of the two !!
In spite of well researched statistics to back either view points, the dilemma continues. At times forcing one to make a random choice, invariably left to sulk at leisure.Think from the brain or follow your heart dont work as you are contemplating most of the time – which one the heart? or the brain?
Indecision has its pros though. You become a great critic and bring out all the negative aspects of a decision. you enhance the value of the path not taken by lamenting over it.The associates get on the driving seat, while you slide into the usual reverie.
As I was walking back home after a long day’s work, I looked down to find a crumpled lying on the sidewalk. Cursing the guy who had chucked it onto the pavement, I was just about to toss it into the bin, when I saw a few words scribbled on the paper by someone who was certainly in a hurry. Reading the contents out of plain curiosity, I saw the following words that would change my life forever,“Dear Son, I am longing to see you. It’s been so long. I want to take a last look at you before I say goodbye – Your loving mother.”
This letter is so close to my heart because it describes the aching of a mother’s heart, her longing to see her son, and the desperation to look at her son for one last time. These words opened my eye to a mother’s…
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When he noticed the naked little girl at the beach didn’t look quite like he did and asked why, they answered his questions in simple phrases painted in black and white, pink and blue, and tradition. And he learned that boys and girls were different.
When one of the neighbor kids painted his nails, they got angry. That wasn’t something boys did. And he learned that there were different rules for boys and girls, and that breaking those made people upset.
When he was handed down a pink bike from his cousin, they replaced it with a blue one, because they didn’t want him to be mocked for having a “girly” bike. And he learned that being girly was something to be mocked.
When he cried, they told him to be a man. And he learned that crying, and being not a man, was something less.
When he was being picked…
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It was a regular evening. Sipped hot coffee and idly sat with my mom for a light banter. She didn’t seem to be her normal self and very soon appeared gasping for breath and drained of all strength. Quickly wrapping her in reaths of quilt I rushed her to the nearby doctor who checked her and opined it was general weakness and not a cause of concern. Feeling immensely relieved returned home. Barely had I closed the door I noticed my mom breathing heavily, Getting severe chills and gesturing wildly which I barely comprehend till date.
I rushed her back to doc again who put in the ICU immediately. It was the most traumatic moments of my life. Agony,sorrow,anxiety together numbed me. To make matters worse, my mom freaked out totally and grew belligerent and non- cooperative towards doctors who tried to treat her. The doctors exasperated, directed their helpless ness towards me and directed me to shift her out. That moment defined utter desperation for me. As though she developed sympathy for me my mom calmed down a bit by bit and as a sense of relief just seeped in, she lay cold, lifeless, still….
Mind wanders. Some times very strangely, sometimes funnily and sometimes dangerously. Whom do you share all these thoughts with? A friend with whom you gossip and share your regular day to day events, a family with whom you have the image of mature mom,sister,in- law and to whom you do not want to disclose your wierd side. But ideas thoughts needed to be expressed, vented out. So getting started with blogs…..best of luck to me and Happy blogging