Bye!

H: Am..mm going away...

Me: What!! But how could you?

H: I can't stand this anymore.

Me: You know I need to submit that report to my manager tomorrow, right? The CFO is here, I told you. Gosh. Not today, please!

H: You are fixed to your laptop all day long, all through the week. Reports, research, ppts, meetings, brain storming, edits and reviews and what not.
What about me? I have had it.

Me: Sweetheart, please. Think about it.

H: Nah. This is it.

Me: Yeah? Okay. It's gonna be tough. Sigh! But guess I'll manage.

H: Byee! You can find me among the trees in the new walkers' park down the road. Or the flower patch by the Hanuman Temple. Or in the banana grove behind our apartment... See you soon!

There goes my 'H'eart!

Ruskin Bond. Like the Cozy Bed at Mom's

Don't we all love that cozy, cool bed in our mom's house, one where we will never feel out of place, one where we always love to curl ourselves in to a long nice nap? Well, for me, Ruskin Bond's writing is just like that old, comfortable bed. His books are a beautiful world I need to visit time and again to soothe my soul, just like we need to visit our mom's home to feel like a child again, and feel free and truly happy.

Nothing complicated about the Bond stories. Nothing intriguing or dramatic. But his every word is like a balm on my stressed and often confused and battered mind. Every story makes me long for one more and then one more. All his stories, settings, and characters have that fond familiarity about them, but still they are so fresh and new at the same time. You almost feel like you are listening to your granny or grandpa telling you these stories. So, I can't not liken him to R.K. Narayan, another one of my all-time favourite authors, much for the same reasons.

Apart from the easy familiarity and simplicity of writing, what really captures my interest and admiration is Bond's stories are seeped in a quite environmental crusade. His stories are a testimony to his love for the fast depleting green cover in our country. Almost all his stories are silently draped in 'green' as he manages to evoke nature and the harm we are doing to her these days. But all very subtly.

Of course, authors like Bond, I guess, are not for those who love the sensational, the loud drama and the evil intrigue we find in some of today's best sellers or media in general. It is for those who find joy in drowning deep in everything mundane. Who relish the simple philosophies of life. Who love quietness, who can sit at the window for long hours watching the rain or the birds, for whom the sky paints a thousand stories at night.

It's OK to be wrong, to be bad

The burden of being the good child in the family can be huge. You are constantly appreciated for being obedient, honest, and soft spoken. You are the poster kid for all, the role model for cousins, the favourite grandchild or niece or student, and the apple of your parents' eyes. Day in and day out, you strive to keep up to your reputation, even when temptations linger around you at every corner, luring you and teasing you. Sometimes, you fumble and falter, but luckily no one notices. The silent guilt in your heart is just for you to cherish.

But all hell break loose, when one day, a momentous day, you break down, unable to carry forward the legacy of goodness anymore. You commit one mistake. One mistake that is enough to make the whole world come down upon you. Is it even a mistake, you wonder. You? How could YOU do something like this, they ask pointing their huge accusatory fingers at you. And then you feel like you have failed them all, that you are somehow worthless now.

The journey from then on can be tough. If you are inherently a strong person, you would perhaps brave this torment and move on. Saying aloud, YES, It's me. Am no saint, and I have all the rights to do the wrong thing.

The point therefore is, never bring up a child as an epitome of complete goodness. Let kids commit mistakes, and don't ever label them.

My first short story! A New Dawn

Thrilled to take my first baby step towards entering the world of writers. Thanks Fabstori for publishing my work.

http://fabstori.com/short-story/new-dawn/

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested," said Sir Francis Bacon.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach - a book that must be tasted, chewed, swallowed and digested, slowly with devotion. In about 85 pages, the book sums up an inspiring philosophy of life, death, heaven, and passion. I recommend it to all who want to explore the true meaning and purpose of our lives.

My newfound love

Birds! Just spending a few minutes in the early hours of the day in my balcony is turning out to be a splendid feast for my eyes, ears and soul.

There are 2 sprightly parrot couples whose dash of pure green feels so refreshing. If you are not familiar with them, you will easily miss them chirping away to glory, perched secretly on the branches of the trees, sometimes flaunting their joy openly on the power lines in front of our flat. The mynahs spend a lot of time practising singing over the black water tanks on terraces. Can't miss the grand eagles who constantly soar and slide across the skies, as though gearing up for a flying race.

The most popular species in Bengaluru, of course, is the pigeon. They are everywhere, cooing and wooing their soulmates. It's such a joy to see many flocks of pigeons, flying and creating disciplined patterns of white and grey and black across the skies!

There is yet another species too among the bird families residing in our locality, but I am yet to find out its name...a grey, long-necked one with black and white checks on its neck. It once surprised me while I went walking around my flat, standing fixed on the parapet wall like a doll, not moving for a few seconds even as i stood there staring at its elegance.

All these lovely creatures evoke the universal prayer of peace in my mind: Loka Samastha Sukino Bavanthu! Bless you, I tell them, as the thought of shrinking greenery fills my heart with sadness.

The Mother Waits for Her End

She knows her end is near. But, an epitome of selflessness, she continues to do what she has always done in her over 50 years of life - GIVE. Never asking for anything in return, never cribbing, never hurting.
She has seen man of all colours - those who exploit her, those who care for her, those who ignore her but enjoy the comfort of her lap, those who know nothing about her real worth, those who look at her in awe of her grandeur and beauty, and now, those who care a damn about her, and are ready to kill her for their own selfish ends without a batting of their eyelids.

In all these years, what really comforted her were the little harmless birds, their pleasant songs, the bees and their buzzing, and the little squirrels scurrying across her shoulders and head from morning till evening. But she was the proudest of being home to the royal eagles.

As the dust gathers in full swing, as the ugly huge machines and scary men continue their work in earnest, she realizes that this is it. It's my time to bid goodbye. But she will continue to be the nurturing mother that she has always been till her last breath, till her last branch and leaf and root rot away, till just a stump or perhaps nothing remains of her body on that spot that she considered her home from her birth.

More than her death, she is worried about her kids, the little innocent creatures that have no clue about what is to come to their mother. It could be tonight, it could tomorrow, or if she's lucky, it could take another 5-10 years. But there is no escaping her sad fate.

The rise of the ugly structure on the road, an underpass that could give connectivity to the locality, will ring her death knell. And then, with her huge, long roots gone, with her fat, strong trunk gone, with her green shady leaves all gone, there will be clear skies, the bird songs will pause, and finally, the rains will forget this land forever.

But who will ever think of an old and strong BANYAN TREE when they could whizz across the road in their swanky AC cars and flashy bikes in a few minutes.

Come over! Join the Party!

Uncle crow from Bangalore: You must shift base here. How long will you struggle in the congested and hot Chennai?
Nephew crow from Chennai: But uncle, isn't Bangalore a very clean city? Will we be able to find food there everyday?
Uncle crow: Bah! Who said so! We have growing mounds of lovely smelling food at every corner of New Bangalore. People are very generous and dump food for us at every street corner. Plus, there are so many dirty lakes lined with piles of food.

Nephew: (beaming) Really? Sounds good, uncle.

Uncle crow: I will help you settle down in the new suburbs. Some of my old Chennai friends are already there, and having a happy time. Just fly away with me this weekend...

Nephew: As you say, uncle. I want to give my family the best ...

Stray thoughts

"Most of you care a damn about me. Actually, you are frightened of me. And that helps, you know. I have my space, my freedom. But some of you are cool. The way you love me, talk to me, and feed me - I quite like it. But I have my mood swings too. Can't bother to respond to you every time you call me or whistle to me. Have my own challenges, you know - keeping off other strays across the street, staying away from your amused or outright cruel kids, secretly foraging through your dustbins for some scraps of food to partially satiate my hunger, and, of course living without what would have made me a truly respected member in my community - why I was castrated is something I cant understand to this day...sigh...but what's the point in cribbing.. Need to move on. It's a dog life anyways." Jimmy, the stray dog in our flat.