A few little wishes

As day today marks the end of the year, the last thing that I want to do is to look back at the year that has gone by. A lot has happened in this year, some good and some painful memories but then that is what makes life.

I’m pretty bad at keeping my resolutions so I make none but will strive to find happiness in the tiniest of things, make the most out of little moments and keep track of them so that it makes me a little bit more grateful in life.

I want my little wishes to get fulfilled, like playing in the snow, have been dreaming about it since ages and ages! Or to silly dance in the rain or to sing my heart out loud or to just wander on the streets during the Sunday second hand book market or to find myself at home with a good book, a quilt and a cup of coffee on a rainy day. 😀

The next year will have its fair share of happiness and sadness. I just wish to be grateful for all that I have and that I’m yet to receive and pray to god for the strength to face troubles and confront situations in times of adversities.

And for the rest of my little blog family or anyone who is reading this, I wish that you get all that you have dreamt of, take steps towards making your dreams turn into reality and know that the dark clouds will hover around for a while but that is what makes you enjoy the warmth of the sun, a bit more. 🙂


Fall in Love?

The above picture is going to be my standard response from now on.

A few months back I had gone out with a few friends of mine, the topic of love made its way into our conversation and mind you, I can be a very irritating person when I’m in love. I’m probably in love with the idea of being in love. I go all mad and start looking at life through rose tinted glasses, almost the song and dance type, completely Bollywood style.

So, coming back to the point, when asked about love, she kept her eyes on the bottle of beer and then looked up in slow motion (or she was probably too drunk) and told me, ‘Pyaar kutti cheez hoti hai’, the rough English translation being that love is a bitch. Her explanation being that love makes you a different person; makes you go through transformations, makes you want things that you never wanted in the first place and the jealousy and heart break is an addition to the long list of cons. And for what? Once this relationship ends, it’s the same process for the next one too, too tiring and too much of a waste of time.

Now that I think about it, maybe it is true.

Though I have always been the “cool” girl-friend, never stalked/hounded my ex- boyfriend be it on call/text/facebook (I’m largely inactive on whatsapp and facebook), primarily because I think that just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean that you can’t be friends with other girls or for that reason, friendly banter which was on the lines of flirting too never bothered me much. I do not have any ‘girl’ friends and it would mighty tick me off if I had restrictions on talking to guys. Additionally, I always gave space and am of the opinion that you must respect each other’s space, love isn’t supposed to make you feel stifled or suffocated.

Despite all of this, there have been times that I have been jealous, may be it was because of him behaving better with someone else and bad behaviour being dished out to me or when boundaries were crossed. And I no longer want to be associated with these petty issues.

I must have easily psycho-analyzed my relationship 927 times but what result does it lead to? I have been listening to sad songs day in and day out, not out of sadness but it’s just that I don’t feel like listening to dhin-chak songs or songs that declare one’s undying love.

Another stupid thing that I do to take my mind off things is to go on amazon and buy bucket loads of books and pick out the oldest hindi songs and try to byheart them, serves as a major distraction.

But the point being that I wasn’t given a reason as to how and why it all suddenly ended, would being giving the reasons make me feel better? Maybe I would try to improve on that aspect and try to work it out but still all the time I’m aware of the fact that this wasn’t going to last. So I have literally paved the path for my own sadness, bringing in expectations when they weren’t supposed to be any in the first place.

The late nights bother me the most, digging up past memories and conversations but every time that I feel like cribbing about it that I remember something that I read a long time back.


The Enchanting Light – Part 7


This post is a part of a flash fiction chain titled, ‘The Enchanting Light’ ( http://trablogger.wordpress.com/2014/12/27/flash-fiction-chain-3/ ). Though I’m incredibly late for my part in the storyline, I hope this makes for a good read. 🙂

Character List-

Rebecca: Protagonist (the main character)

Samantha: Rebecca’s mother

David Lyngdoh: Samantha’s husband and Rebecca’s father

Joe: Samantha’s childhood friend

Eda: Joe’s daughter and Rebecca’s friend

Kavin: An elderly widower who works as supervisor in the monastery

Liam A. Veratre: Rebecca’s husband

Luna: Liam’s evil lover

Dalai Lama: The spiritual ruler and highest priest of the Tibetan Buddhists

Anna: Chief matron at the mental asylum (new character)

You can find the following parts out here-

Part 1 – http://soulnspiritblog.com/2014/12/23/the-enchanting-light/

Part 2 – https://ruthspoetry.wordpress.com/2014/12/23/the-enchanting-light-part-2/

Part 3 – http://sayadpoet.wordpress.com/2014/12/24/the-enchanting-light-flash-fiction-part-3/

Part 4 – http://sweetykannoth.wordpress.com/2014/12/24/the-enchanting-light-flash-fiction-part-4/

Part 5 – http://jasminebythebay.wordpress.com/2014/12/27/enchanting-light/

Part 6 – https://fictionlimbo.wordpress.com/2014/12/27/the-enchanting-light-part-six/

The woman looked at Rebecca as she squinted her eyes and stared right into the light bulb next to her bed. Rebecca babbled for quite some time about Luna and Pandora, about how the Dalai Lama was the only one who could save the planet from the invasion.

The junior doctor too stared at Rebecca through the huge glass window with utter amazement; sure he had seen patients with schizophrenia but none with such vivid hallucinations. She clutched a piece of the pillow cover that she had managed to tear away and called it her necklace, one that Liam had given her.

He furiously took down notes, jotting down all the characters she had spoken of during her recital of what was new in her life and how she felt currently, standard questions that were asked to all the patients in the asylum to get an idea of what their thought processes were and how to use past memories, ones that they could recollect correctly to use in their treatment.

“Anna”, he called as her patted the shoulder of the woman along with him. Anna looked at the doctor, tears welling up in her eyes.

Anna was the chief matron at the asylum and as protocol required, she never got too close with her patients, but Rebecca was an exception. Never once did she throw a tantrum, never misbehaved or had a violent streak like the others but her hallucinations were the worst.

She remembered how Rebecca first came into the hospital, armed with a bevy of policemen. The police had found her in a pool of blood, of her so called husband Liam, Uncle Joe and Eda’s. She kept muttering as to how Liam cheated on her with a red headed woman, evidence of which wasn’t found by the police and the accusation that Uncle Joe and Eda were responsible for killing Liam, that she was being framed by the inhabitants of Pandora since she knew their secret, which was to take control over the planet.

Anna waited for her to calm down, since she knew that after these intense hallucinations, Rebecca became mentally tired and turned relatively calmer. She tried to inspect the wound on Rebecca’s forehead, one that was caused by hitting her head hard to the edge of the steel bed.

“Are any of the characters in the story true?” the junior doctor questioned Anna. She sighed and narrated her case history, one that had baffled her, kept her occupied and prodded her to learn more about her ailment in the past two years.

Rebecca was an intelligent and attractive woman; she had an extreme fondness towards literature and had read all the classics. She sacrificed the bigger opportunities that were offered to her and worked as a book editor at a small publishing company at Surrey, so that she could live close to her mother. Samantha, Rebecca’s mother had raised her as a single parent, taught her to be self-sufficient but kept her protected under her watchful eye, away from any man who would try to charm and take her. Rebecca had a few incidents during her childhood when she blanked out for a few hours, during which no one knows what had happened to her or what she did.

It was when Rebecca met Liam on one of her assignments at London that things started going downhill.  Being a con artist, he managed to charm her and sweep her off her feet, within hours. She started lying and made excuses of meeting him and turned possessive. Her illness intensified when she kept forcing Liam to marry her because she got pregnant, much against the advice of her well-wishers like Uncle Joe and Eda.

On one fateful day, while Samantha was out buying groceries, Liam had come to meet her, to end things with her, once and for all, unfortunately at the very same time that Uncle Joe and Eda had come to meet her to drill sense into her. No one knows what happened next, apart from the fact that her neighbors reported to the police of loud shrieks and screams from her house when she refused to open the doors to them.

Rebecca got bail under the condition that she would undergo treatment at a mental clinic because she suffered from multiple personality disorder and schizophrenia while being under the care of her mother. But Samantha had seen enough tragedy for a lifetime, being a single parent had taken a toll on her health and looking after her mad daughter who had slipped into depression post the miscarriage of her child seemed like an impossible task, so she distanced herself.

The junior doctor still amazed noted down the story as Anna narrated as well as the little antics of Rebecca, ones that she had shown in the past hour and a half. What surprised him was her ability to narrate her hallucination in painfully intricate detail, including the color of the eye of the people she saw in her episodes.

The junior doctor smiled, satisfied that he had one incredible case to work on while Anna waited for Rebecca to sleep so that she could nurse the wound on her forehead and set her white messy room into order. She saw the upturned bed, torn pillow, the water that she had spilled on the floor, and the picture of Dalai Lama that she clutched in her fist and silently prayed, to save Rebecca from her own destructive self.


There are days when you want time to stop, to pause in that moment, till eternity. Precisely the reason why I don’t wear a watch, it hurries you, reminding you of all the things left to do, pulling you away from living each moment to the fullest.

I was having one of those days when all I wanted to do was to feel calm, to peacefully notice the world go by, slowly and observe the minute things, like the hawker’s cry for attention or an old man’s wrinkled forehead as he looks at the crowded bus or how the girl’s eyes searched the crowded bus stop for her beloved.

I took a share auto to the nearby bus stand which is also one of the bus depots. There are always a lot of buses in waiting and you never know which one would leave first. I chose a bus out of the many and sat by the window seat. The bus had hardly anyone in it. As I sat with my head resting on the window I saw that diagonally opposite to where I was sitting, there was a couple.

It’s not unusual to find a couple in the bus, but what caught my eye was that they were communicating in sign language with their hands. The girl kept smiling and laughing at what the guy was excitedly gesturing. Slowly the bus started getting crowded, but that didn’t deter nor interrupt their conversation.

They had a little world of their own, a bubble where neither the conductor’s irritation on the lack of loose coins or the other passenger’s conversations posed any hindrance. After a while they stopped gesturing and merely stared into each other’s eyes. Just like that, nothing else mattered to them, not the crowd in the bus or the loud honking of the vehicles stuck in the traffic jam.

I stared at them for a while and felt a tug in my heart; I was a witness to a moment which was private and one of love between two people. I turned my face towards the window, watching the endless concrete jungle pass by and there came teardrops. The ones mourning the end of a phase of love, they hung themselves on my eyelashes and flew with the wind.

Love needs no words, no explanations and no reasons. It just needs feelings and to be felt.

Pa and Christmas

As a couple of kids aged five and seven respectively, we (me and my sister) once asked Pa as to why we didn’t celebrate Christmas thanks to the social studies chapter on festivals and because it was probably the night before Christmas. All of a sudden Pa wore his shoes and walked out; leaving us half baffled and genuinely scared. The next thing we knew was that he had rushed to the nearby “fancy” stationery store and got us a little artificial pine tree, decorations and a little idol of Jesus.

We were then told the story of the birth of Christ, this was told to me, sister and my neighbor (who is like my sister too) and of how Santa Claus got us whatever it is that we wished for. We sat for an hour at night and decorated the Christmas tree and then went to sleep. Next day in the morning, under all three of our pillows were gifts from Santa!

The next morning we put our gifts in front of the tree on the center table and put the idol of Jesus Christ next to it along with a miniature version of Santa Claus. Pa had got the Plum cake from a local bakery and put a candle on it and we blew out the candle and sang “happy Birthday Jesus Christ” with all our might! 😛 😀 After the entire song sequence we cut the cake and helped ourselves and also called the other kids in the building and the watchman’s and servant’s kids for the birthday party.

After the birthday party we wished our neighbors – Mr. & Mrs. Alexander, who lived upstairs a merry Christmas and hogged at their home again 😛 and also went to the church that was close to our home for the mass.

From that year onwards, all that we looked forward to were the gifts from Santa and the Christmas decorations; I had a special fascination for silver bells! None of my other friends understood as to why we celebrated Christmas and why Santa Claus got us gifts and none for them.

This went on for about 15 odd years, and then we stopped celebrating Christmas but donate money to the poor and sponsor the education of two kids instead. As we grew up, we knew that Pa was our Santa, and we tried staying up till the wee hours of the morning to catch him red handed, getting all the things on our wish list and hiding the presents under our pillow, but we failed repeatedly, year after year!

Pa even included that Jesus Christ that he got for us that one night when we asked him about Christmas into our little temple along with a few representatives of the 1068 gods that are present in India. From that day onwards, we celebrated all the festivals that we could, irrespective of the fact that it didn’t belong to our religion. It’s one thing to be secular but another to respect each form of God as one’s own.


Our little temple at home with the Jesus that was bought 17 years back along with a small representation of the 1068 gods in India.

The Vada-Pav Wala

After Sucheta’s post about vada pav, it can be found here – http://suchetabiswas.wordpress.com/2014/12/24/hungry-kya-take-a-bite-of-vada-pav/.

I had this immense craving for vada-pav so I stopped by a tiny chaat place close to my home for a vada-pav though I ended up taking a dahi-papdi and a cheese tawa toast sandwich too 😀 And thus goes my diet for a toss 😛

While waiting for my order to be made, I had a little chat with the guy (I know I’m a chatterbox 😀 )

Turns of that the guy’s name is Shiv Shankar and hails from Karnataka, has been running the chaat place since the past two years with the help of a supermarket guy who rips off a lot from him considering that despite charging him for all the ingredients, he has to provide food for free and give a portion of the earnings and rent too! And his favourite chaat in the entire world wide is Vada-Pav!! 😀

I took a few pictures of him while he was making chaat-

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I have two sisters, one is older to me by two years and the other one is my twin. I’m effectively the youngest amongst us three, missing the chance to be older than atleast one of my sisters by two odd minutes.

Whenever I talk about siblings I always mention the older one and not my twin sister. There were a few family issues adding to that my health, since I was a premature kid and had a barrage of health problems that led us to live separate lives. I grew up with my parents and the twin sister grew up with my grandparents and my Ma’s brother and sister back at Calcutta.

Despite the physical distance between us, we managed to talk on call every day and visited her at Calcutta every year during summer vacations, winter vacations, durga puja holidays or any holiday that gave us a few consecutive days off. Somehow down the line, the daily calls became weekly ones and the visits became cold.

We would get a stipulated amount of pocket money every month which I would save and get my twin a gift, every time that I visited her. But then the response that I got to it every time that I gifted something to her was disheartening. From carelessly tossing it away to criticizing it in every manner possible, all that it did was hurt me a lot. Every year on our birthdays I always would call her dot at 12, and she would either cut my call or not pick up and would send a same to you reply to my happy birthday message days later.

Puberty had not been kind to me so during the growing up phase I had bouts of skin rash and suddenly put on weight and she made maximum fun of me during that period, so much that I would dread visiting my own sister. She was slightly obsessed with looking beautiful and would stand in front of the mirror the entire day and tell me how I was not good looking.

Now that I have the required maturity to understand why she behaved the way that she behaved, I’m still unable to shake off all those bad memories. We hardly ever talk, even if I go to visit her, she refuses to meet us or dishes out bad behavior, though it has remarkably improved in the past 2 years.

My parents keep nudging and pushing both me and my elder sister to talk to her but even if I do its very difficult for me to accept her as my sister, sure she is more like a distant friend except for the fact that we look the same and share the same set of relatives.

We are of similar temperaments, we share the same passion for arts and music and are both short tempered but very different as people. Exterior beauty doesn’t matter for me, never did and never will. I love books and she loves make up.

At times when we meet, I feel like I’m looking at a mirror but I don’t recognize the person on the other end.

She now tries to build communication with me but because I have already seen how foul she can be, I stay away. Sometimes I wonder that if situations were different, would we ever be able to be sisters? if not sisters then atleast cordial enough to acknowledge each other’s presence.