On Father’s Day

My Dearest Papa,

Hugs Hugs Hugs🤗🤗🤗. I am back, with yet another letter on yet another Father’s Day. So first is first. I Missed You, lots and lots. I Love You and think of you every day won’t say it doesn’t hurt anymore, it does, it still does, but see, it’s healing. I am doing good, I know you already know but let me say it and feel the words in my bones “I am doing good”. I get all the help you send me, the gifts too, and the flowers. Yeahhhh, I got those Mogra you used to get for me, they are growing in the plants of our patio and the cake you sent through my cousin on my birthday, I got that too. I got your birthday present also, along with your message to hone my creative writing. I am working on it, I know that you are expecting something great from me this year, I am trying hard to deliver.

This one reminds me of all the times when I would tell you to take me along on your tours obliviously making you helpless.

I know you have scolded me twice these days for binging on sweets, I am trying to get off them but you I have a weakness for sweets. You know, I am learning so much, trying to use significant words as you did. You remember that time when I was just four or five, that summer you took Mum and me and Uncle to Nainital, and we were strolling down the Mall Road there while I was holding your finger in my fist. Sure you do remember, how often you used to tell me that anecdote of mine when I would leave your hand and walk into any store that had glittering lights and colours and then you had to pick me up so I won’t walk away. You know I remember a li’l bit of that day too. I remember you talking to uncle, and you used a particular word that seemed like a real heavy and tough word to me, I practised it, memorised it, because I wanted to be like you, you were always my hero. That word was “of course”, haha, yeahh, such a simple word but to me, it was no less than Oxford dictionary back then. But now I can even make out what Shashi Tharoor says, haha. I so wish you could see me today, but then, you are always watching over me.

This one is so you and me Papa, I remember how you used to cover me within a blanket and tell me it’s our cave.

Mumma is better, thank you for that. She dances sometimes; it makes my heart ache with pride. She has a fighters spirit. So much she lost but not once she let her pain reach me and she learned to be on her own. It makes a weight lift off my chest when I see her laugh and dance. Now, she even goes to movies sometimes, and you won’t believe how tech savvy she has become since her new phone. She misses you, she still needs you but what’s sanguine is the fact that she believes in her heart that you are still with us, that’s her strength, it keeps her going. She isn’t even angry at God like me. Papa, sometimes, without a reason, just like you did, she kisses me and loves me, now I don’t need to prompt her to do it, she does it on her own, thank you, Papa.

I won’t say life is a bed of Roses, but it’s not a walk on embers either. There are new wounds on both of us, on our person and our hearts but we stand after each fall, we hold each other securely. Wagon R has got old, and so has your Blackberry, I think they both will have to go. I think we will be selling your office soon. No, not for the money, but just because it’s in a dilapidated condition and it hurts to see it like that. You must be wondering, what’s with the letting go thing. You know after this long time what I realised, I will have to let go off all your materialistic things, tangible things one day, just like I had to let go of your physical presence, but I won’t ever ever ever let go on you, your memories, your values and your love. Yes, I would miss calling it ‘Papa’s car’, ‘Papa’s Phone’, I would miss calling it ‘Papa’s Office’ just like I miss calling you ‘Papa’. I miss all those love names; I miss the pseudo fights, I miss those long conversations and that companionable silence. I miss your footfalls in the corridor and your positivity in my heart.

This makes me so nostalgic, I can still hear your voice when you had promised me that you are my wall and till you are with me, nothing bad or evil touches me.

There’s so much to say; I am not done yet. But then I can write volumes and tomes to you. I wish this weren’t a one-sided talk; I wish you were here and talking to me right now. I wish Mum had you by her side and I didn’t have to see that shadow of feeling odd one out between couples. I almost get so nostalgic for your voice that it’s unbearable.

You know I didn’t want to grow up. Sometimes I still feel like whining and throwing a tantrum that I want you. I still want to be the unreasonable li’l girl that wanted her father in hard times, bad times, good times, fun times; testing times come what may. The girl who called you up in Chennai and told you to come back home sooner and you humoured her with a beautiful lie by saying Yes. I want to wait for you at the door, checking the time every few minutes and run to you at the sounds of your wheels on the gravel, run like the wind in your arms and not let go. I want to forget everything except the father who didn’t just gave me life but taught me how to live it with my head held high. But, I am proud to say that the li’l girl is a bittersweet memory to me now and this woman writing to you has finally decided to grow up. She’s matured and wants to shoulder her responsibility. Just stay by my side and guide me on the way. You are still my Hero!

Happy Father’s Day Papa! 🌹
I Love You Forever And Ever❤️❤️❤️

Your loving daughter,
Gudiya

PS: You have left everything that was once yours with me but remembers, you still owe me perfume and 2.5 Lacs, and I always have been a good bookkeeper.

Revisit, Reset & Restart

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Tribute to Life

Between god and me

Mom, why do we pray?

Parents when would you Realize?

world4womencom

Hi Everyone,

Few days back I read a news article in Times of India (a leading Indian newspaper), a school going boy Rugved Raikwar, studying in 7th class aged 12 decided to fast demanding a reduction in the weight of school bags. That’s a mighty step from a spirited boy against the administration who is not heeding any attention towards this core issue.  A glance at this incidence took me years back down the memory lane.  We as school going students suffered the same thing, carrying bags heavy as hell.  To make the matters worse the walking distance from bus stop to home was long, Indian summers made the path a bit more longer and a house at fourth floor of the building without lifts, just imagine the plight of us poor kids.  Well going through this piece of news makes me think few other incidents which are not directly in-line with this “weighty” issue…

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THE MORAL OF THE STORY….

Candles Online

Yet another page from the mother-daughter diary

“Mom, please tell me a story and put me to sleep,” my daughter requested. It’s a part of our routine. Sometimes I read folk tale books, and sometimes I play bedtime stories on YouTube (when I have a lot of things to wind up and anxiety kicks in thinking of the remaining agenda). But there are times when she demands stories freshly cooked up. She also hands me a few specifications, like certain characters, names of the characters, certain habits, and so on. Trust me, she plucks fruits of imagination from La La Land and lets me feast on some of the juiciest fruits. Once ingredients are given to me, the onus is on my shoulders to serve her with an enjoyable story, laced with a moral, of course.

So this time she wanted me to tell her a jungle story…

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Between The Journey And The Destination

world4womencom

A road through rocks, watercolor painting – Kalpana Vogeti

Originally posted on Candles Online

Marooned amidst the desert of nothingness,
surrounded by the mountains of despair,
the traveler’s intellect summoned him the ultimatum.
“Your journey has come to an end,
take this cloak of melancholy and drape yourself,
let the crown of failure adorn you
as you put a halt to your momentum”.

Saddled by the burden of his dereliction,
the traveler turned into the sediment of brunt hopes
whose dreams dissipated and poured down stony eyes
touching his parched lips,
He was exhausted and slipped into a deep slumber,
believing it to be the end of his ordeals.
But soon his thirst beseeched him
to look out for a potion to sip.

He rose from the heap of his molten & mangled desires
to quench his thirst and reinstate his trudge.
In the darkness of ignorance, he sensed fear

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The Moral Of The Story…..

world4womencom

Yet another page from the mother-daughter diary

“Mom, please tell me a story and put me to sleep,” my daughter requested. It’s a part of our routine. Sometimes I read folk tale books, and sometimes I play bedtime stories on YouTube (when I have a lot of things to wind up and anxiety kicks in thinking of the remaining agenda). But there are times when she demands stories freshly cooked up. She also hands me a few specifications, like certain characters, names of the characters, certain habits, and so on. Trust me, she plucks fruits of imagination from La La Land and lets me feast on some of the juiciest fruits. Once ingredients are given to me, the onus is on my shoulders to serve her with an enjoyable story, laced with a moral, of course.

So this time she wanted me to tell her a jungle story with a…

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Hey Don’t Call Me Aunty!!

world4womencom

Originally posted On Candles Online.

What hurts a woman the most? The word “hurt” is making this an emotional saga and definitely, I am not in a mood to tell one. So let’s change it to ” Enrage”. Yes, that makes it powerful😉. So what can enrage a woman and invite her ire almost at the drop of a hat?Call her a bad driver she can still pardon you. Call her a nagger, you still have chances to watch that football match with friends. Illogical, argumentative, gossip lover – you still have bleak chances of making it safe. But one thing that guarantees a woman’s “you are so dead” look is calling her Aunty!!!!!

(Picture Credit – Google Inc.)

**Important Note: Don’t try the above-mentioned stunts at home**

Imagine a 25 year old lady who just delivered a baby and haven’t shed the extra kilos gained…

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Countless memories and countless emotions

world4womencom

Source: Participating in Prompts and Challenges

Hi Everyone,

Every soul that takes birth on this earth be it any form of life has a journey which we call “life cycle”.  For souls in human body this journey of life is filled and marked with “Countless” memories and emotions.

Taking a ride down the memory lane, brushing aside the dust from the pictures life is standing as a flashback in front of my eyes and I am watching it without battling the eyelids.

A simple girl from a middle class family who loves to-day dream having high hopes and aspirations for future.  Academically good (at least everyone thought so 🙂 ) parents, teachers, friends and even myself had high expectations from me that I would do well in life.  Out of school, now in college.  A different and a bigger world.  Lessons were not just a part of classroom but every…

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Will-Knowledge-Action

world4womencom

It’s a story of the reunion of a man with his daughters. A man had three daughters from whom he got separated. The three sisters were Ichcha, Kriya, and Vidya. He was leading a miserable life, until one day when the three girls reached his house and asked for shelter, as they were tired of playing. As it was dark outside the man decided to let the three little girls halt in his house.

The darkness was so terrible and threatening. The darkness was an invitation for the robbers to intrude into the boundaries of the house. They slowly started digging the foundation of the house. Their purpose was to crash the house and loot. As the walls trembled in that dark night, so was the man. This is not new to him. All his life he was under constant attack of burglars in the veil of…

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