Tug of war

“Aim high, the higher the better.”
“Shoot for the moon, dream big.”
“Who seeks shall find.”
“Try and try until you succeed. Don’t compromise.”
“There is no-one between you and your dreams.”
“Ask and you shall be given.”

They say, you get in life that what you have the courage to ask for. The courage to ask for something is not always enough.

Imagine. What if every step towards something you want is a step away from someone who has always been there for you?

There is nothing more important than family and love.”
“A happy family is but an earlier heaven.”
“Love awakens your soul.”
“You always gain by giving love.”
“If you want to become fearless, choose love.”
“When we have each other, we have everything.

Is there anything worse than this state of helplessness?

Deep inside, self dissatisfaction is a choice we make over hurting them. It’s ironic. This choice comes from a mechanism that is trained to choose the best for us. It is functioning at levels beyond our conscious thinking. How can, then, one turn against themselves, when humans are genetically so well trained for survival.

Should we trust this intelligence?

The other option is to revolt.

“Revolt against whom, our own selves?”

This is the unsatisfactory deadend.

Sadhu

Sadhu is walking barefoot along the river that flows next to his kachcha (mud-) house.

Sadhu is a 67 years old man. Carrying long white curly beard on his fair face,
he is the master of a fit-not-fat body.
The cold waters of the river are taking away with them any fatigue that Sadhu’s body is carrying. Slowly as he walks on the mud floor, as his worries and tension start fading away, he feels a sense of freedom. He feels free from holding himself accountable for every wrong that happens in his family. He appreciates not being judged, not being looked at, not being unnecessarily instructed. The silence of the shore, outside and inside, makes him want to live, want to do more.

Suddenly the silence is broken. The sound of the alarm wakes Sadhna up from her dream. The routine life continues. Sadhna gets up from bed, gets the kids ready for school and starts preparing breakfast.

The house gradually starts filling with voices. the husband can’t find his socks, the kids are waiting for the lunchbox and the mother-in-law needs her medicines.

After the husband and the kids leave, it’s time to start working for lunch.

Carefree, she is, only in the dream!!!

Romeo

My name is Romeo. I also live roadside. Contrary to what you might be imagining, the two words put together don’t describe me. But there is no doubt about my qualities as a lover. I do love. That’s one thing I am pretty good at. I say hello to everyone I see on the road. I try to. This… is a story of a chilling night in my city.

The month is January and the date is 1. It is around 8.30 in the evening. My dinner routines aren’t very organised and depend on a lot of factors. I don’t remember when I ate last. I can feel the chills taking my breath away with every blow of freezing cold wind passing by. I am by the roadside outside an ATM. It is my area and so I know there are people nearby who are setting up fire to warm themselves, preparing for the night as all of us know it’s going to get colder.

It’s not very cold inside the ATM room but I am too scared to step in. It’s getting colder outside and I am still outside, shivering.. lying on the road.. entangled in myself.. to cover myself up as much as I can with my own body.

I have furs but they don’t seem to be too protective today. My tail is stuck between my body and the doormat lying outside; I am trying to wrap myself up as much as I can with my body, trying to feel a little cozy. Perhaps I didn’t have dinner today and so I am feeling a little weak.

What happens next?
Do I survive the night?
This, and many other such stories, me and my friends talk about a lot.

This is not my story.
This is your story.
You get to decide the end the next time it happens in front of you.

I eat.. sleep.. reproduce.. repeat.
I wag my tail when I see you.
I lick. I jump.
I try to share my love in my language.

I can’t tell my story and so somebody is saying it on my behalf…

Next time you see me, don’t forget to say hello. ๐Ÿ™‚

The 3 sisters

Diya, Riya and Tiya were playing. Their mom was busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the family.

Suddenly, she heard someone crying. It was Tiya, the youngest one.
Mom screamed, โ€œRiya, donโ€™t bully your little sister.โ€
โ€œMom, but I didnโ€™t do anything. You always scold me for no reason.โ€ Riya replied annoyingly.

Mom entered their room and observed how upset they all were.
โ€œFight as much as you want to. There will come a time when you will look back and miss these days badly.โ€

โ€œMom please! Not these dialogues again. It gets too melodramatic. I think you should stop watching those daily soaps.โ€ Diya, the eldest one, said sternly.

Present Day:

Riya is spraying perfume on Tiya.
Tiya says authoritatively, โ€œNot on my face.. it may damage my skin.โ€
They all start laughing.

Tiya is getting married. Riya has come to India after 2 years to attend her wedding. Diya is just too happy for these 5 days when they are all getting to meet again. Though, thereโ€™s not much time to sit and talk. Their kids are too young and demand attention. Tiya is busy with customs and parlour appointments.

All they need is a little more time for their silly fights.