End of an era..

14th August 1992, I was mere 4 years old; dancing in front of house movers, running up and down the staircases, jumping on swings, slightly scared of blowing wind making sounds of a our brand new home.
We were excited to have whole garden, carrom and table tennis room, luscious lawns and plenty of friends to hang around.
For me, my sister, mom and dad it was our  home since I distinctly remember.
Me and my sister played ” bhatukali” in that house, we have photos posing with dolls at sunset by a huge jamine plant in our home terrace, we used to glide polythene kites, ran pulleys from top floor to friends house to pass books and dolls in afternoon when mum didn’t allow to step out. Bhel parties, birthdays, family functions over years, get together with mums friends and thier kids, one when my cousin returned from states for holiday, fun with cousin, that huge house warming Pooja.. I still recall that little girl in short hairs and glasses(me) and my sister in white dress and two hair plates doing rituals as mom dad got busy with guests. I remember us dancing to 12.30pm pop music shows after school, first ever horror movie glimse on cable tv-when mom and dad were out on night duty, the way I used to freeze with remote in my hand, also the fights over tv remote, watching Jacky Chan actions movies, WWF with my sister and dad, all one day crickets and world cups..
Mom and dad taking our studies in lounge aka hall and in terrace til late evenings, that walk to school by missing school bus and drama that followed, dancing on “dholi taro dhol baje” and running into wooden wardrobe as I couldn’t control the speed while dancing on rhythm.
All those crazy cycle rides after badminton session, Christmas and new year parties, ganpati sessions for good 10days, ganpati and satyanarayna at home.
The window which opened out towards a hill, where I saw many sunsets of my life, the earthen windchyme which rang with blowing wind. I sat in that corner of house waiting for mom to return from work, read book, write poems, study, talk to friends and many more..
All my close friends message me when they pass that house saying we crossed your home today..yes it’s been one steady rock in ever changing story of my life, our life.
Every corner and arch of that house is touched by memories which I can’t pen down, they continue to stand in front of my eyes for last few weeks and especially today. A place where 4 of us went through good and bad times of our lives but held together by walls and strength of home those walls and 4 of us had made for us.

Today calls for end of an era, as mom dad move from that house in new home; packing away memories and pieces of everything.
It moves me that last time I stepped out of that home when the home was lit by shimmering lights put up for my wedding, I didn’t know that would be the last one.
Nor I am or my sister is there today to say good bye, we are just oceans away bracing ourselves in corners of our heart in silence.
I know, people make places but places hold people and when you move away to chase your dreams, somewhere your peace is held in distant memory of some place like your childhood home.
Yes I don’t live there for last 15 years but I visit often and still find empty shelf in wardrobe at my old spot, same decor, same radio, the jasmine and sunset behind the hill with cup of tea in same corner.
Life turns pages and this feels like a huge one, 33years later..very close to heart!!
Adios our home, you shall be special where four of us had beautiful life. Thank you for happening to us.

ऋtuved

Her Story: Aka Stories

Being a writer is a blessings in disguise, you live the characters, feel the words and hearts. No story is just a story! you live life beyond it; a journey of tumbling life path and more. It’s sometime not all joy and sun, it is gloom, it’s hardwork, it’s soul searching, sulking and once a while those stories find a sunrays again.

On other thought aren’t sunrays which pass through dark clouds on rainy day called God rays??!

Maybe some stories are imagination of a writer, sometimes they really are.

But the story which has once touched a soul, sun or a rain- don’t you think it has really lived a little?!

ऋ tuved

Her Story: Stranger on Train

through hustle bustle of life, with check list of things to do, light headache she was heading to work that morning car, train, tram switches etc.

Whilest on train, suddenly she found herself in odd trap of time, calm but moving, sensory dull but trigger sublime and then she heard a mid age lady singing in foreign language right next to her, probably repeating the music on her headphones.

She was beautifully lost in world of her music, pouring her heart out loud without care of world. That mid age lady had beauty of soul, innocence which was reflecting through her skin, her mumbling lips, innocent face..

And she thought aren’t people most beautiful and inspiring when they are lost in thier self, least bothered by anomalies of world. In that moment, she wanted to search herself again.

To idolic struggles of Millenials

They say it takes courage to walk on unbeaten path, many of us in todays generation jumped at doing something different some out of habit some out of curiosity but soon enough we were at those twist and turns which made us think of that statement ” it takes courage to walk on unbeaten path”.

Right there hold that thought, while we all think we are revolutionaries and walking on unbeaten path, flaunting our courage to lead unique life; take a deep breath and turn around see a literal breakdown of what we are doing goes as below,

A. Feeding our passions, beliefs.

B. Making money to meet our needs.

C. Scrambling to meet societal norms or scrambling to fight them- many aspects of them.

D. Try to hold onto our individual concepts of relationships.

In this order or other..

Now think, are we doing something in generic sense which our previous generation didn’t, probably not. However in actuals what we are doing is something which was never done in detailed sense and hence we are courageous in our own way, inspired yet clueless.

This breaks the traditional concept of idols in some way, cause in one era of time i suppose, there were people who could lead us on path, all these leaders are now life coaches telling us generic life lessons which we struggle to fit as is in our lives. Don’t mistake what am saying here but I respect, teachers, guides, all those random people on street which unknowingly spread the cues essential for life but what you make of it is your individual reciepe for better and for worse.

Also for same reason you need to surround yourself with people who feed to soul, intellect, passion and needs to reach the wholistic aim of this human life and use the scattered thoughts, feedback to make your own life.

I started to write this thinking, I need someone to hold my hand and tell me how to walk this walk but more I look around, I see how much unique life case yet generically most common life n problem statement I am working through.

Life can be simple or complex as you make it, so breath in breath out and bring in your pioneering soul and common person hat and walk through life for good, bad or ugly..

You’ve got it better than anyone you know can. That’s the courage part I opened with 😉

ऋtuved

Her Story : Gratitude

I don’t know if anyone really thinks about it in length, am sure we all have felt someone dear to us slipping away in moments. I had people in my life, I have very fond memories with which I can revive and relive. I have some of these people travel far away in journey of life, I felt it, I regretted it, I may have rebelled or tried to hold on some of them and let some of them go with grace.
The very meaning of life is journey, not destination as we all live these tiny destinations while we live, love, laugh and cherish some moments together. Unknowingly these long lost people become part of your story.
Do you let them go?? maybe yes, sometimes consciously, other times unconscious. But they remain part of something bigger which is within you to live forever with. They call it Gratitude!!
But like Dr Mereditg Grey said in distinct context: “Gratitude. Appreciation Giving thanks. No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing: happy. We’re supposed to be happy. Grateful; for friends, family, happy to just be alive. Weather we like it or not. Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for the things we’ll never know. At the end of the day the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.”
Isn’t it?!

ऋtuved

Her story: serenity

Some times good people do bad things! Unfortunately with them it’s almost always knowingly but unconscious.. not sure how to break it down, but once who know such will understand the meaning!
It burns them to know, to do and later to feel. I have learned in life, almost always one needs all that for things thereafter to fall in place. Sometime they simmer in oven of time, swell, ooze but eventually what stays is what they were about to loose..calm, collected serenity of being good not just nice.

ऋtuved

Message-backspaced

To the messages who lost thier life in roll of backspace..
You know there were those words, feelings, expressions, laughs and tears which slid under carpet of life. They weren’t the once, who didn’t deserve the sunlight of day or star studded sky of stunning night; they were the once who met thier destiny without waiting to be delivered.
I am the one from era of handwritten letters; starting with dear and ending with yours!
I have travelled long way from words on paper era, to the hit one key four times Nokia sms years, to pour out your heart touchscreen texting.

Three decades and long journey in written communication.

The beauty though remains locked in backspace of touch screens. Same as bin in the library desk or wall of Juliets, those torn sheets of papers or unposted letters.
That’s the comfortable yet awkward space between expression and repercussions-the edge of flipped coin!
These backspaced messages are something which our cautious mind holds off from saying, sometime it prevents the disastourous reaction, or heartbreak on either ends even between friends, sometime it’s just beauty of unknown and pain of untold.
Whatever it is, the golden time they lasted; they saved us from the good, the bad or the ugly hidden across the backspace.
Even though they weren’t delivered, you’ll always know in your heart they existed and were only yours!! Only yours!

ऋtuved

Her Story: Fragile

In the storm of life she had seen much worse, she had lived boldly on her terms, dangerously on occasions to feel reckless. She has been strong in avalanches of time, held her values high and never gave a second thought before melting for once she cared about. The whole hearted presence was her thing then.
Only to realize one day that she is scared of lightening and struggles to sleep on stormy nights. To realize she’s struggling to be there for herself let alone anyone. Also she of all, can fall apart to limit where efforts to keep standing, keep going feel futile. She rather fall into pieces, hold the silence and break a little more.
The girl built tough finds rescue in fragile sticker of check in baggage sliding away!

ऋtuved

Emptiness

Just before on abc news, I was looking at empty train stations, streets and beaches of Sydney, NSW. Which took me to a conversation with a friend about feeling of emptiness, that non visible cavity in smack center of your chest while you live with loss or loneliness, it unknowingly amplifies value of a warm hug.
Hasn’t last couple years been trailor of all individual emptiness, which gradually got exposed in all of us with sneaky little steps. First we all treated it like vacation we never had, then the scare stepped in and we were overtly vigiliant trying to bury our fears by gaining more knowledge or amusing ourself by video social trends, sour dough breads and arts projects. Later we gradually grew defeated and agreed to this ordeal. Lost the peace every other time we heard this calamity taking away people, lost calm on human stupidity spiking irrational behaviours. Some people like us gradually went into thier shell not wanting to open up, trying to be emotion less mechanical being.
I learned it just made us feel even more empty losing our sympathetic and empathetic connections.
Some losses were very personal to some of us and others not so much and yet again 5km travel limits, curfews and lockdown broke us away from our usual network or even places we used to find peace at. We all tried being self engrossed just to keep up, lot of us did invest time in self exploration and here we are still sitting with our question marks about how new normal of world will look like.
While I write this, I think of all emptiness I individually faced and all rebuilding I managed to survive with my close once through this panademic.
Funny enough we all survived our COVID19 story in different ways but emptiness was the common theme; which taught us a lot, made us re- establish sense of community, brought us down to vulnerable levels making us realize human limitations and tolerances.
Also open our eyes to rat races and rut of life we all have been running in, non valuable baggages we were carrying, and gave sense of survival beyond emptiness of heart, streets or soul.
Maybe afterall, emptiness isn’t that bad?!

ऋtuved

Her Tales..love for imperfections

She wondered while lost in her dreams, aren’t we all imperfect in our own ways..
Imperfect in way we deal with situations, way we dream, way we treat people and get treated in return. On dawn of her 30 something birthday, she kindled all the imperfectly beautiful moments she had in life and the artist in her savoured on beauty of those distorted imperfections which made her path in life.
Wondered if she would change it given a chance.

She was aware the imperfections gave enough heartache to the perfectionist in her but she wouldn’t think of ever changing them.

Maybe she was finally opening up to the little imperfection in her..maybe it was beginning of new life!!