The Ultimate Joy

Their eyes look up to you for love and care. Watching their playful giggles and unaffected demeanor brings a smile to your own face. How can you possibly ignore such innocent charm?

I have been associated for the past two years with a Gurukul run by the Arya Samaj, in the Subhash Nagar district of New Delhi. It is a charitable foundation, one of many such gurukuls situated all across India that are a part of Arya Samaj’s initiative to impart education to underprivileged children from across the country.


The gurukul houses 17 boys between the ages of 8 and 15. The kids hail from the north-eastern states of Assam, Nagaland, Manipur as well as from Rajasthan and Maharashtra. They come from underprivileged families, living in places where children are made to do physical labor and education is nothing more than a distant dream. While here, they are sent to an English-medium school and imparted moral education by specially appointed Shastris (teachers) in the form of the teachings of Arya Samaj as passed down by Swami Dayananda Saraswati and the four Vedas. They are even given special training in martial arts (Taekwondo). The kids’ personalities are groomed in such a way as to make them capable of succeeding in today’s highly competitive world.

Two years ago, when my family came in touch with this institution, it felt like a true blessing. We have virtually adopted these children since then. When they arrived, none of them understood a word of Hindi or English. I, along with some friends, used to spend my free time helping them build a base in both languages so as to be able to cope with school. Now they have a tutor to help them with the subjects they are having troubles with at school. My father, who has been my first and my best teacher so far, also teaches them English sometimes. My mother showers them with motherly love and they consider her as their own mother. I visit them as and when I can. We celebrate our birthdays and festivals like Holi and Diwali at the gurukul with the kids. They are also taken on an outstation trip every year, in order to get some recreation during the summer holidays. We accompanied them on such a trip to Dehradun, Mussourie and Rishikesh last year. This year's trip is soon to take off too.

And they are truly gifted kids themselves. They cook their own food. Some of them are national champs in Taekwondo and Kabaddi. Their school teachers tell us how good they are at their studies. Given all the facilities they are getting, no doubt they do not really need us to visit often. Yet, they love it when we do.

They used to call me “ma’am”. I instructed them to call me “didi” (elder sister). In the initial months they were very shy. Coming from totally different surroundings and living away from their families and home, they are bound to feel lonely and insecure. But over the years they have forged a strong bond with us. They look up to us for appreciation and love. They show me their homework, their medals and prizes, their test results. They always ask me when I’ll visit next. I always regretted that I don’t have a brother; now I have seventeen. And I am absolutely loving it. Their innocent smiles touch the heart like nothing else can. The happiness and contentment I see on their faces, gives me a taste of the ultimate joy in the world. It is quite rightly said, you see heaven in a child's smile.

(This post was my entry for the Bucket-a-hope story contest, which got published here)

Of Mice and Men...

Thank you BlogAdda, for featuring my post here.

While watching a little mouse scurrying along the walls of my room the other night, a thought occurred to me. And it kept me awake and thinking for a considerable amount of time. Is there really any difference between mice and men in the real sense? Well, keeping aside the obvious example of the “rat race” that our lives have become in this fiercely competitive world. I see some more similarities here.

One might surely have noticed fleetingly during some random or weird thought process, that we usually only find grey (or dark-haired) mice in our country. One can see them playing around every household, street, garbage bin. But in most of the western countries one will find little pearly white mice running around the corners of every building (that has mice, obviously). Doesn’t the difference strike a chord? Aren’t we Indians, the so called “brown people”, very much like the dark mice, while the westerners, the “white men”, much like those white mice? The color difference surely maintains constancy across the oceans, as well in mice as in men. There, lies my point. If, despite the stark difference in color, the two species of mice both pose the same problems to all the people around the world, why then are the people with differing skin colors treated so differently?

Why are some people treated with contempt, while others with sheer awe? Surely if such impeccable equality can be maintained by nature in its judgment, it could at least be maintained by us amongst ourselves, the human beings, who practically consider ourselves the rightful owners of the earth and the nature.

In the same vein, I asked a younger cousin of mine if she’d ever like to have a mouse as a pet. Her eyes lit up and she quickly replied, “I would love to, but only if it is a white one!” Therein lays my other point. We Indians ourselves are partially to blame for the prejudice done against us globally on the basis of skin color. Every mother in India wants a “fair-skinned” husband for her daughter. Dark girls are still considered curses on the family in many parts of rural and urban India. A friend of mine, Tamil by birth, recently expressed a wish to have a 1.5 lac melanin treatment done in order to become “fair”. I’d like to ask all these people, if we maintain such false prejudices amongst our own fellow countrymen, how can we expect any outsider to even consider granting us the respect we deserve? Talking about rural areas - given the low literacy, superstitions and beliefs - one can still try to understand the cause of the prevalence of such prejudices. But the saying “practice before you preach” seems to fall on deaf ears even among the members of our “educated” gentry, when it comes to such matters. And then they talk about inequality and racial discrimination on the global stage. Talk about hypocrisy, someone.

What more, the fair westerners are going in for tanning these days. They lay on the beaches, nude, all day, just to achieve that perfect “tan”. It has become a fashion statement of late. Dark complexion is as “in” for them as fairness has always been for us.

I wonder when we, the people of the world and not just Indians, are going to realize the importance of being who we are, the way we are, and letting ourselves known by our work and achievements rather than our place of birth or color. We need to learn, all of us do. Learn to respect ourselves for all that we are. And to respect the others for who they are, in order to be respected ourselves.

A summer full of wishes!

Hola amigos!

I return to writing after a long sabbatical, if I may even call it so. But with two harrying weeks of engineering examinations, along with loads of problems on the personal front as well, one can hardly be expected to find and put together the right words to write, and to get them to make some sense too. Too hard a job for me to accomplish. Not that I was actually studying for the exams all this time though. I've just been having a really tough time, personally. And trying not to let it affect my academic and social life took up all my time and might. But not anymore. I'm back with a new vengeance, and it won't take long enough for me to get back into my element!

So here finally is the summer, with the much-awaited summer holidays to accompany. We all have some aspirations when it comes to the holiday season. A long outdoor vacation, adventure sports(alas), vocational classes, books, indulgence in food and shopping - the list just cannot cover all. I just came up with my own wish-list too. Only to realize, it is actually very unfulfillable right now, what with my twisted ankle and the darned period of bed-rest, yet again. But, for the record, am not gonna stick to the bed-rest for more than two days, as usual (today's the second, and I already have plans to go shopping tomorrow.)


Here are some of the things that are on my wish list for this season -

1. A new phone
I know, it sounds weird, thrifty even, but I've been carrying the same phone for the last two years. It pretty much fulfilled all my needs and wants, and it might not be completely high-end or flashy, but it's been a good one. Not to forget it had some sentimental value attached to it too. But now I am up for a change. An immediate one, in fact. But the problem is, I cannot come to decide what to buy! A touch phone is what I've been wanting for quite some time, but then a Blackberry has it's own charms too! So basically, I am confused. Hope to be able to make the decision asap, 'cos I can't live with this one for long!

2. A whole new library
Okay, this one is far too far-fetched. And to add to it, I'd like it to be more gifted than bought. Is that too much to ask? :P
There is this whole lot of books that I want to read this season. The books I recommend every readaholic like me to read. You may check out the list here. Plus, I already have bought three to read up back to back. Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace and The Hungry Tide and well, Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse. Some of you may want to leave that one out. :P But hey, I believe in keeping my read list varied!

3. A Wardrobe Makeover

I need to makeover my summer wardrobe. Need to shop more. To mix and match stuff I already have. Until I end up looking good. Come on now, that's one helluva feel-good thing for anyone, and with that I don't just mean the girls! But as I mentioned earlier, until I can manage to walk straight again, not much of shopping or feel-good things are in the offing for me. :(
So I'd rather just manifest my desires in this cute summery look sported by Leighton Meester, aka Blair Waldorf in the TV series Gossip Girl. I love it! :D

4. An outdoor trip
Yes! Finally something that I am certain about!
So I am going off for four days to this little hamlet-like place in Uttarakhand, called Kotdwar, with a huge group of family, friends and little kids. I hope it turns out the way I am imagining it will, which shall make it the perfect getaway and the ultimate stress-buster for me after this whole stressful semester. And the very fact that I'm going with my bestie Rose, makes it all the more exciting!

I guess I am happy now. At least this last thought distracted me from the pain in my foot and its various side effects. Now I can go and fantasize about the trip and all the preparations I gotta do for it. So I'd like to sign off here on a good note. But be on the lookout, I'm not done writing yet. Rather just started! :D

Spare a Toy, Gift Them Joy

Twice a day, as I walk past the tiny cluster of potters' huts on my way to college and back, I wonder at the extreme disparity between this world and the one I come from. These crumbling hutments with their innumerable residents and the clay pots, pans and animal figures, and those modern homes with their Air conditioners, comfortable furniture and luxuries that are in fact considered as basic amenities. Everything is the same - people, their daily need of food, water and shelter, their right to education and a decent living. Yet, the two worlds are far apart. The Indian economy is, no doubt, partly to blame. But the more important issue to be focused upon here is the impact this inequality has on children. Deprived of proper education, books, toys and such simple joys of living, all they are left with in the name of childhood are distant memories of a state of perpetual need and insecurity. Working at tender ages and the lack of education deprive these children of their right to a happy and stimulating childhood.


The least we can do, as citizens of this lovely country called India that we call our home, is to do our bit in helping these children, present in multitudes throughout the nation, get their childhood back. You can make a humble start by shelling out any spare books, clothes or toys that you may have discarded long back, and donating them to authentic NGOs, orphanages or other such institutions dedicated to the welfare of children.

As a beginning, I review here an internationally known and acclaimed NGO, Toybank, that is dedicated to giving back to the children their right to a childhood, in the true sense of the word.

Toybank, a non-profit organization has been set up with the aim of providing toys to children who come from a weak socio-economic background.

Goals:
To ensure that children from under privileged backgrounds receive toys through collection and distributions.
To bridge the gap between children from different backgrounds by creative play/group events/community events.
To make play space available for children through toy libraries using available infrastructure; to reclaim open public spaces for children.
To design and provide toys that are context specific, and to have toys made in local languages as well.

Support: Children, Right to Play, Right to Leisure, Non-formal education, Toys.

Presence In: Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore, Pune, UK, Bhutan

Website: http://www.toybank.org/

Note: They are presently looking for volunteer coordinators in Pune and Bangalore, and for NGOs working on children's education in Delhi/NCR.
I write this post as a part of BlogAdda's Bloggers Social Responsibility (BSR) initiative. I am exercising my BSR. You can too, with three very simple steps. Visit http://www.blogadda.com/bsr-list and support the NGO's cause. Go a step further, contribute as much as you can, and spread awareness about the cause as well.

Do not miss this chance to see real joy on a child's face. Trust me, it's worth every ounce of effort! :)

(Photos Courtesy: Harshit Vishwakarma)

Love in the Facebookian Era

A popular SMS joke doing the rounds these days says that during a wedding, the bridegroom stops the ceremonies at the very climax of his wedding in order to update his relationship status to “married” on Facebook. What more, he asks his bride, standing beside him right in the middle of the altar, to accept his request to be listed as his “wife”. Very well put, I must say, keeping in mind today’s trend, where a kid’s Facebook statuses tell his family about his whereabouts and moods, and the number of people in one’s friend list and the number of messages in the inbox define one’s popularity. Brace up, people, for the Facebookian era is here.

But hey, what’s with this “love” twist?
Well, here’s how my thinking goes – just like Facebook, love is the other newest trend on the block. Not to mention that it has been so for as long as I can remember. And with the recent passing of the Annual Festival of Love (for the uninitiated, I am talking about the Valentine’s week in February), I have developed a loathing for all kinds of superficiality related to the sacred word “love”. So, I surmised, what better than the loveliest of all feelings, love, to be analyzed from the Facebook perspective?

Till some time ago it was commonly believed that it takes just a single look, a meeting, a few talks or long walks to make you fall in love with a person. And the love that blossoms is eternal. A glow on the face, a perpetual smile, shy glances across the room and hand-in-hand walks along beautiful and less crowded places – these used to be the usual tell-tale signs of someone in love. But not any longer! Know why? Elementary, my dear Watsons! It’s the FACEBOOKIAN era, remember? Now it’s all about Facebook statuses, wall posts, pokes on each other’s walls, results of love-calculator-kind-of applications and hanging out at the malls. The main focus being, flaunt what you have, for as long as you have. Followed by, why, the three R’s of course - Reduce, Reuse, and Recycle! Hey, wait, did you really think these were formulated to help save the environment? Oh my poor little ignorant souls, time to wake up and smell the coffee!

Let us take a typical example. A boy adds a girl on Facebook, say on the basis of some prior acquaintance (Facebook’s new privacy issues - he can’t add her otherwise). She accepts, they begin talking off and on. The girl’s exams get over and she has nothing to do all day but sit online. As a result, they start talking often. More and more often. Day chat, night chat. Voice chat, video chat. The guy soon sends her a digitally created, animated proposal, “offering” her to be his official girlfriend. She gets uber excited, gushes about it to all her girl friends, and after some amount of haggling, accepts. This formative period of a relationship but has its own rules – no updating relationship statuses to “committed” and saving each other’s numbers under fake names. There might be others too, which thankfully enough, I don’t know of. Anyway, this goes on for some time, until finally everyone in their social network somehow manages to ascertain that this particular pair of opposite-sex people is “dating”. This paves way for the next phase of the relationship – the Social Phase. This phase, as the name suggests, is characterized by an ever increasing number of wall posts and pokes on each other’s deewaars(walls), a change in the relationship statuses on two profiles on Facebook, two pairs of thumbs perpetually texting away, and the whole online community being subjected to some gross online PDA.

Well, so long as it lasts. But unfortunately, it usually doesn’t. And when it finally is quits, the same old conspicuous phenomena ensues – change of relationship statuses, deletion from each other’s lists, and sometimes even blocking of each other on all messengers and social networks. Short and sweet, that’s the story of love in the time of Facebook. And as far as the three R’s are concerned, I leave it to the readers’ imagination to figure out in what way the three of them are carried out!

The thing that irks me most is the fact that people claim to have fallen in love with someone “just by looking at their display picture”. Now come on, seriously, do you even know for sure that the person you are talking to and the one you see, are the same person? There, you got me. To narrow down to the more specific domain, take my own example. I receive about a hundred Facebook messages and add requests a month, most of them asking me to add them because they find me pretty or beautiful or “smart”, as one or two put it. Some of them have even gone to the extent of “expressing their great love for me” through such media as poetry or hellishly-back-broken English. And on what basis, I ask? (No, I don’t literally ask them, I just ignore) and the answer is – the display picture! I wish they’d realize that the person they deem beautiful, going by the picture, might not be the same in real. They might be the most hideous creatures on the earth, crooked or saw-toothed with obese bodies, falling hair and crow’s feet. (I can vouch for myself though – I, for one, am the same person as seen in MY pictures; they are neither doctored nor nursed) I do admit, some of them might indeed be true to the picture. But what about the person’s inner self? It is true that a picture is worth a thousand words. But it can’t bare the soul. And then, after three months into a relationship, people complain that their beaus are not the same person they once fell in love with. Seriously, did you even check to confirm if you really knew who you believe you are in love with? Its time for a reality check.

Relationships are the latest fad, and in the true sense of the word. Whether it’s nineteen-year-olds like me or tiny fifteen-year-olds or the “world-wise” twenty-fivers, it just isn’t taboo anymore to have relationships at a tender age. It’s in. Love is in the air. And it always is. And with social networking on an unprecedented uphill climb, it is all the more convenient to communicate with people in your life, yet maintain (an optional) sense of privacy and choice – of who to talk to, when and by what means. And not the least of the impacts is the changing definition of love and relationships. Love – the word has lost its very meaning in this convenient world of technology.

Disclaimer - I do not write this post to bombard or criticize all the committed people in the world, including my friends and readers. All I want is to express my personal opinions on this game called “relationship-relationship” that almost everyone is playing these days. And obviously the role of social networking sites like Facebook in making things very simplified, yet more complicated than is usually comprehended. Some things might be fun to toy with, but the various strings they come attached with, beware.

Photos courtesy - Google images

P.S. I'd like to share a post by my friend Sourav here, which he wrote after attaining inspiration from this post of mine. How sweet of you sourav! :)

http://www.souravpandey.in/2011/05/you-have-new-notification-says-facebook.html

Ladies Coach in Delhi Metro – Seriously?

Thank you BlogAdda, for the feature!

Catfights are the rage this season. The other day, I was traveling in the blue line of the Delhi metro in the morning rush hour. As the doors opened at a stoppage, an ocean of women started pouring in, bustling for space and authority, filling up every left-out nook and cranny of the ladies coach. In all the hustle and bustle, an office-going young lady happened to fall back upon her neighbor, who unfortunately turned out to be a jaatni of quite a formidable temper. And that was it! She flew into a temper and pushed back, only to start with an argument. If only it had remained at that. But the next I knew, the jaatni had her hand pressed hard against the helpless girl’s throat, shouting profanities at her all along. In defense the girl’s hands flailed and fluttered about, managing to catch only as much as a button off the attempting murderer’s sweater. This only made the woman livid! “You dared tear a button off my sweater!” and WHAM! The slap resounded through the entire ladies coach, attracting many an unhidden gasp and exclamation. A girl standing right next to me, whom I assumed to be a newbie here, looked at me, visibly flabbergasted. And all I could think of saying to her was, welcome to the ladies coach of Delhi Metro.

It’s an epidemic like no other. Since the day Delhi Metro granted the city’s ladies a metro coach reserved exclusively for them, there has been no looking back. From verbal spats to catfights, they’ve done it all. Being a girl in a city like Delhi has its own negative points, not the least of them being that you’re forced to travel in that darned ladies coach. After all, you have only two options to choose from – either to be leered at by every satyr standing or sitting around you, or to travel in the “supposed” safety of the women’s compartment. And the choice is more than obvious for any girl. Period.

Traveling in the ladies coach, for me at least, is an ordeal, to say the least. Just standing there, in the midst of so many specimens of the same species and sex as you, reading their faces and knowing what’s going on in each of their minds – it is highly unsettling. Whether they are DU students or engineers-in-the-making, BPO employees or PROs, teachers or accountants at a bank, grandmothers or spinsters, it all is etched clearly on their faces, easy to comprehend for a person who has no other mode of passing time but to plug in the earphones and look around. Every time an argument or a fight takes place in the metro, everyone's eyes are on the fighters. I SAY, observe the expressions of the ones around them instead, and you'll see other things. There's this "been-there-done-that-hence-indifferent" look on most of their faces. That speaks volumes about the attitude of the ladies of our dear old Delhi Metro ladies coach.

Metro travel, I have to admit, has but a big plus point – you can complete half your daily chores in here. From filing your nails to applying sunscreen, studying for exams to finishing most of your daily quota of phone calls, it’s the most useful time of the day, which would otherwise go unutilized if you traveled by local train, bus or any other mode of transport. And every metro phone call gives a great insight into the calling person’s life; you just need to have a keen eye and a good ear. Not to mention, low volume on the earphones.

But the introduction of the ladies coach has had more misfires than it has had hits. What are its possible advantages, I ask? They say, women get privacy and security from leering men; that it prevents eve-teasing and cases of sexual harassment etc etc. But seriously, is the situation really any better, as they pretend it is? For all I know, the only thing this step has managed to achieve is a greater sexual divide in the society. Earlier it would be a fair sex ratio throughout the length of the train, with ladies seats very generously thrown in here and there, filled in mostly by grateful women. However, in the current scenario, I see a clear trend in the kinds of people occupying different sections of the train. Here’s the analysis:

• The Tharkis: These are the men (or guys, or whatever, it doesn’t even matter) who crowd in at the joint between the first and the second coaches; to be more precise, between the ladies and the general compartments. They are the ones who you can be sure of are the most desperate ones. They would stare at any woman they could manage to lay their eyes upon, with such expressions as would make anyone believe they're from some woman-less planet and are seeing aliens in us. And by any chance if a beautiful girl happens to be anywhere near the joint, voila! The density of such men miraculously increases!

• The Rebels/Insecure ones: They are the two-sided ones – on the outside, rebellious, refusing to believe that the very concept of “ladies coach” even exists – and on the inside, trying to dissuade their hearts from the realization that they are outcasts here, and that they the society has finally managed to overthrow their autocracy, at least here. They enter the ladies coach despite the authorities’ desperate attempts to divert them to their rightful place, and stay put where they are, not moving so much as an inch to let a poor woman move in her own sanctioned space with ease without having to brush past them. All I have for them is a you-know-what.

• The couples: This is another section of the metro-commuters that is on an unprecedented rise nowadays. The “couples” are found centered in two distinct regions – one, the adda of the tharkis a.k.a the Forbidden Joint, and the other, the very back of the metro train. In the first case, the female counterpart wants to escape the leers of the men in the general coaches, and the male is but forbidden in the ladies coach; what better solution than the midway then? In the second case, the male counterpart is the dominant species – to show his worth to his girl, he assures her that no one shall dare disturb her in his presence, and so, manages to travel with her at the back, where the crowd actually makes some PDA possible, in fact almost inevitable. What more could one want, did I hear?

This leaves the ladies and the ladies alone, to travel together, shoulder to shoulder, back-to-front/back-to-back in the very heart of the ladies coach. Which, one needn’t mention, brings out the worst in the feminine population of the city. Earlier, the entire female clan had a common enemy – the man, who dominates them, sidelines them and hampers their lives. Now, with the men gone, the reality lies exposed for all to see. Yes! The man was never the issue here! He was only a pretext; an easy prey to vent out all one’s anger upon. But with his disappearance, we realize that all one really wants in one’s daily life is an outlet, to let out one’s frustration. One makes oneself feel insecure, even appear victimized, only to be reassured of one’s rights. This done, all one is left with to do is to vent out that volcano on anybody one can find in the vicinity. In this case, the city’s women have turned enemies to each other. Jealousy amongst specimens of the same sex, which is more than just common among the fairer sex, only adds fuel to the fire. The result? The slightest provocation and that volcano blasts, sometimes taking down casualties with it, and sometimes to be caught by surprise at the clever dodging and backfire by the chosen victim. In the end, it’s all a battle of words, wits and sometimes strength of hands, in establishing who’s HOT(literally), and who’s not.

All that said, someone might wonder, I being a member of the very clan I talk so frankly yet somewhat slightingly about, where exactly do "I" figure in the whole scene? Well, the answer is simple. I am the silent beholder, not the participant. I never come into the picture; I just observe and then reproduce for others to see it through my eyes. Like you just did.

Eyes to my soul

As she appeared across the lawn, a shadow falling on her face, making it impossible to decipher her expression, I wondered. What was it about her that made her so dear to everyone she met? And yet, why was she hated so much by almost everyone at some or the other point in the course of their association with her? I suddenly realized I could never really understand her. She was an enigma to me.


I had been with her for far longer than I deserved credit for. I would always tell her everything I ever had on my mind; she would invariably be there for me, listen patiently to all my talks. I observed everything she did or said. I always tried to understand what she meant to achieve by every action of hers, and that has been one of the major sources of my understanding and knowledge of her thoughts and personality, however little that might be. We would talk endlessly on almost every topic there was under the sun. We would agree on some points, argue on some other. And eventually I would quit arguing with her, because it was like you could never win over her. She always had the last word. Not that I ever complained. She means the world to me, as much as she does to all the ones who always gave up in front of her like me.

She was a ray of sunshine on the horizon; a real delight to be with. There was an aura of happiness, wholesomeness and contentment about her, that lured everybody into its grasp. She was a picture of beauty; beauty of body, mind and soul. She could turn all your worries into nothing, and amplify your joys manifold. She had an inexplicable look of satisfaction on her face – to me it seemed like that of knowing everything yet revealing little. She could always tell what you had on your mind, but would never make you uncomfortable with unnecessary prying and prodding into your affairs. And yet, you would suddenly feel yourself bound to tell her all your worries and travails, as if she had a magnetic grip on your mind. She would understand everything you tell her, and would follow it up with such careful and sound advice, as would make you feel like your problems never really were of any consequence. Such was her effect on people that it sometimes baffled me into believing that she practiced black magic. But as I said before, I never really understood her. I just revered her for all that she was.

She was as much a mystery as Bermuda Triangle could never manage to be. Her eyes constantly lived in a dream. Her words went far deeper than they would ever appear to the listener’s mind. Her exquisite face was a brilliant cover to her true thoughts and feelings. But her clear hazel eyes revealed something she could never hide – pain. She hid her pain with her perpetual smile and joyful demeanor. But she had her dark days too. I never knew what caused her to be so affably happy at times, and yet inexplicably weird at other times. On normal days, she would have a splendid countenance. There was a ring to her voice, a shine to her smile and a rhyme to her actions. She would sing and dance her way through work, and at the end of the day, would recount the day’s events to me with full spirit. On those days, I felt such a rush of happiness and contentment throughout my veins that I could die of it and still not mind. But on those few days when she was weird, she would be very difficult to put up with. She’d brood over every single thing, take offense on anything even remotely untoward, and in general, present a picture of dissatisfaction, quite unlike her true self. It was of such days that I was dead scared. She formed the very thread of my existence; I could never bear to see her out of sorts. I would try my best to pacify her, mellow down her moods, try to make out her wishes and fulfill them as best as I could. Yet I managed to do a very poor job of it all. Why was it so difficult to understand her, yet totally unthinkable not having her as a part of my life? I think I knew the answer. Only I wouldn’t admit.

To be continued...


(Read the second part here and third part here.)