Rejuvenation

Tanya spent too much time in her room these days. Every night she’d open the curtains, and every morning she’d close them back. She was beginning to hate the sun’s heat. It deprived her of purpose. If she went and stood there, naked, with nothing to protect her, she knew she’d survive unscathed. The warmth of the sun would fall on her, just as it did on everyone else without bias, without feeling and she would have nothing to worry about.

The night was a different story. The cold night air would blow into her room. Perhaps it didn’t do that to every room. The breeze had definite direction, unlike the sun’s rays, which simply went everywhere. Often, it would be her room into which the wind would blow. She’d wait for the crispy air to threaten and haunt her. She would then take her blanket and put it around her, and smile smugly at the formless breeze. It was the only time she smiled during the entire day. She’d perfected the feeling of purposefulness.

Curiosity gets the better of so many people. Tanya spent too much time away from the world in the day that she wondered what morning dew felt, when even as you were seeing it, it evaporates. What it was to revel in the sudden coolness you get when the cloud comes over your head and gives you a minute of respite. The peaceful sight of dogs curled up on piles of sand on a hot summer day.

All she took was a peep one day. She opened the curtains and looked out. There was a little boy in a fruit shop who waved at her. Not for a moment did he think that it was strange that there was a face out of the window. For him, faces were to wave at. Somewhere at another corner on the street, a group of people lifted their hands. This time, not to wave, but to point. They had been on earth long enough to have prejudices and stereotypes so grilled into them, that they’d forget to wave. All they did was point at something or someone and group it under one of the very many pessimistic categories that they had.

Tanya looked out with a sense of urgency. She had to get out there. She had to get out there before the boy grew up and confused idiosyncrasies with insanity. Before he grew up and forgot the use of most of his fingers. Tanya ran down the stairs, to smile at the boy who called out to her. As she came out of the door, she saw a mother holding the baby up to the sun. Tanya came out and chose a patch of road where there was no shade. She didn’t need it. The warmth came to her, without bias, without feeling, soothed her pale skin and melted her cold heart.

Meet the Parents

Meet dad, who once came home barefoot not knowing where his shoes were and never realizing it. Meet the man who used to try and light a cigarette with the wrong end of a matchstick. Meet the man who quit smoking a month back and has suddenly started realizing that his wife’s an excellent cook. Meet the gentleman who has never hurt anybody intentionally yet. Meet the guy who can coolly sit in another room reading a paper when the hall is teeming with guests. Meet the man who still cannot recognize his daughter’s friends. Meet the man, who when his daughter chose a different career path, didn’t go ballistic and instead started reading up about her chosen field. Meet dad who cannot light a stove, cannot make his own coffee, once tried to serve himself food on an overturned plate. Meet my dad who never fails to inspire me. Meet my dad who is the only who can control me with words any nothing else. Meet my dad who is forever perplexed by my idiosyncrasies by loves me regardless.


Meet mom, who’s such a strong woman that sometimes her absence is hitting. Meet mom, who doesn’t care one bit about criticizing in public. Meet mom who brought me up in the one way she knew – trial and error. Meet the lady, a teacher – by profession and by life. Meet mom who’s the only one who will deflate my ego and give me a knock on my head when I float around buoyantly. Meet mom, who knows me better than anyone else I know. Meet mom, who understands that I’d like to think that I have secrets kept from everyone. Meet mom, who made me call everyone in my class and apologize when I had a fight. Meet mom, who’ll never encourage speaking ill of anyone. Meet mom, with whom I’ve had engaging surreal fights about broken hearts and life imprisonment in hell. Meet mom, who knows to win a fight by simply keeping quiet. Meet mom who hates shopping and crowded places and passed on the trait to me. Meet mom who makes my life as difficult as possible sometimes. Meet mom who’s made my life very easy for the most part. Meet mom who knows my worst fears and my gravest mistakes. Meet mom who thinks I can fly high.
PS : Meet my parents, as special as anyone else’s, as normal as anyone else’s. They’ll have been married 25 years in another year, but I don’t think I can wait that long before writing this.

Frankly speaking....

Unpolished mirrors - I remember reading a long time ago about how friends need to be like well polished mirrors. Mirrors that show you as you are. No aberration that hides something, no magnification that exagerrates your flaws, no hint of bias, no attempt to be diplomatic. The truth is the truth. Any attempt to smoothen the edges, to trim the uneven strands takes it away from being what it is. It becomes a lie. A fib, fiblet a nanofiblet, whatever it is, it simply isn't the truth anymore. And real friends must speak the truth.

I do not care much for those perfectly polished plane mirrors. I'd really rather look at silhouttes and speculate the rest. In any case, unpolished mirrors can be silvered when I'm ready for brutal, naked truth. Someday, I'll be able to get out of my cocoon and accept that not all the world's a white warm blanket. Until, then, my world's an endless unpolished mirror, where I am just a shadow, a formless silhoutte.

Post # 1

Post # 1 says it all. For lack of an interesting idea, as well as a sudden bout of laziness I shall leave it at this. As for unpolished mirrors and the comforts they provide, I will come back to them later.
Seeya for now.