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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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I Sense A Presence XX

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There was an awkward silence that enveloped the room. Emotions (rather anxiety) simmering in hearts. Before that silence could attain a monstrous shape Sally ran to Henry embracing him and pouring her heart, to be precise her fears to him.

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is after my life, watching me 24*7. Trust me, please!!!” Clinging to Henry as Sally spoke, words seem to be gushes of streams of her inner turmoils.

“Sshh honey, I am here, no one gonna hurt you. Calm down love, I won’t let anything happen to you. We will see through it” Henry spoke as he caressed Sally’s hair to pacify her. But warmth seemed to be missing in his words and momentary glance at Josh had some other equations wrapped up in itself.

“But I wasn’t expecting you” quipped Sally all of a sudden and that shifted his attention towards Sally again…

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I WANT TO CALL IT A QUIT, BUT…

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I very well understand that this poem reeks of negativity but there can’t be a denial that it exists. Many of us experience the feeling of being suffocated at various points of time and in different relationships. That feeling of claustrophobia comes from the fact that we willingly (unwillingly though) suppress ourselves from speaking up and out. We feel “give another chance, let’s not break”. But the fact is we want to break away at the first given chance but never dare to do so. This poem is about that dilemma where we want to express but fear if we are exposing ourselves – to the criticism, to the adversities, to trauma, to loneliness (which probably we might not have realized yet we are).

Dying in fragments everyday,
my soul still fears sneaking out
and searching for life
that I might leave many lives rattled behind.

Drinking from the cup…

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MAKE IT VIRAL!!!

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Husband (looking into the mirror): Honey!!! Honey!!!

Wife comes running from balcony with phone in her hand. “Why are you screaming dear? You just spoiled my reel!! What on earth made you scream your lungs out? It better be something that really needs my attention.”

Husband : What do you mean by “your attention”. Look what happened to my trousers (pointed towards his trouser that was unevenly ripped only on the left and interestingly it’s not even denim but a regular formal one).

Wife: Oh that thing! I did it. You know my friend made a reel with her husband in a torn shirt and got over a million views. I want to make a better reel and surpass that number, that’s why this ( and she giggles leaving her husband bemused). Honey we need to make funny videos to make our numbers ticking. We can’t just Relax and let…

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Reboot The System, Slay The Demon !!!

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Little Chaani was watching her favourite cartoon series on YouTube. Suddenly an advertisement popped up. It was a scary one. With demonic figures charging up, roaring at each other and inflicting carnage on everything and everyone, Chaani got scared and ran to her mother. Mother skipped the ad and consoled Chaani. Chaani gathered herself and asked her mother, “Mom are demons real?”

Mom smiled and said “no darling that’s all imagination, demons don’t exist. Don’t get scared” and hugged Chaani tightly and put her to sleep. That night mother watched her closely if that advertisement would have an impact on Chaani’s sleep. Night passed off well and the next day Chaani left to school happily. Before leaving Chaani posed one question that engaged thoughts of mother for a very long time. Chaani asked “Mom can imagination yield something so alien or a completely non existing thing? Aren’t demons real?”

Mom…

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Buzz Of Failure

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Completely rattled by a relentless commotion,

I looked around to ascertain the origin of this motion.

More I dug deep and looked around, more I felt disappointed,

For there’s only a vacuum sucking me in and left me disoriented.

There’s a myriad of reasons to be celebrated with glee,

Also there’s despair marking it’s presence, lurking around rearing to engulf me.

I ran incessantly to escape the deafening roar chasing my existence,

Only to find the horizons closing on me, throttling every trivial glimmer of resistance.

I clasped my hands to hold on to a cover to shut off that nerve wracking noise,

I believed that shore is finally in reach, so is my sanity and poise.

But truth finally dawned upon me, it was the cry of pain emanating from the heart,

A barrage of piled up emotions that sedimented for ages now determined to tear me apart.

I…

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OPEN UP BEFORE YOU BREAK

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The other day I was having a casual talk with my daughter. She asked me what I want to be when I grow up. That was a legit question I think, probably the deeper meaning which she didn’t realize was – we should never stop dreaming, desiring, aspiring or being ambitious. Or might be just a counter question to the regular question hovered over them by parents – What do you want to be?

Well whatever the idea was I paused a bit and said ” I want to be a writer but not sure if people will like my work or not. I am skeptical.” And the statement she made after my “hmms & huhs” simply blown me away and made me ponder “does she know what impact and sense she makes with her rather seemingly casual statements. Is it really a child’s play to be mature?”…

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I Sense A Presence XVIII

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An unintended chuckle escaped Josh’s mouth the moment he heard the grandma saying “it is cursed”. His reaction was met with a cold shoulder and a stoic pose that had an immediate dominos effect on Josh silencing him too.

After few seconds of silence she resumed talking “well I see this generation tosses up everything in air that is out of their comprehension. There are many things in this cosmos that might not fit into your tiny realm of LOGIC but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist”. Her words did restrain Josh from being eloquent about his thoughts via his expressions. He has resolved now to let only his ears do the working. And the grandma continued.

“A house isn’t just a structure of mortar and bricks but a mirror capturing the vibes of emotions parading amidst the walls. And this house is a glass cage, beautiful from outside but…

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I Truly Believe In Love

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When I was in college (graduation 3rd year), I read two books as a part of our syllabus – The Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen. Both are great works. Human relations, follies, expectations, insecurities, vulnerabilities – mainstay of these works. Me being a romantic to the core person was swept off my feet by beautiful portrayal of Elizabeth and Darcy – the protagonists of “Pride & Prejudice”. Elizabeth, a strongly opinionated, free spirited , well read, beautiful and a charismatic girl. Her beauty was not only what was obvious but her refusal to let herself to be treated as doormat added to her aura. Despite of not having grand fortune and unfortunately quite a few annoying pompous characters in her family she never let herself to act or sound vulnerable. Meekness or submission wasn’t her. She represented grace. On the other hand Mr.Darcy…

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I Sense A Presence XVII

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Josh left the cafe with his head full – full of disbelief about how his friend got entangled in utter nonsense; with a tug of war engaging within whether to step back or go ahead he reached his office. As he was exchanging pleasantries with his colleagues, one of his friend casually showed an online video about “haunted/cursed buildings” of the history. Many stories woven around those buildings led to their abandonment and not to mention how they featured on the bucket list of many adventure seekers. But what happened to those adventure lovers not revealed. How once a piece of beautiful architecture is now secluded and scary, the roots to be searched in the numerous folk tales, rumours aired, the history and few pair of eyes that witnessed silently a belief being built. “Do you believe in these stories?”one colleague from the group asked the man who was showing…

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