Quill &amp; Parchment

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.

I was a kid when I visited Chennai. I spoke Hindi at home and English at school. The concept of learning more languages wasn’t popular till then. And even if it were, I would have never learned Tamil.

My father had tight business connections with Tamilians and visited Chennai twice a month. I was a Daddy’s Girl through and through, but the thought of learning Tamil out of sheer curiosity never appealed to me.

I have stayed in Chennai for three months, not in one go, but three month-long trips in three consecutive years. The adventures were as colourful and varied as an artist’s colour palette. The first time we stayed in a spatial guest house by the beach. Next to the house lived a rich neighbour in an exquisite bungalow. His name was Mr Kartik Narayanan. I don’t remember if he had a wife or kids, but he knew…

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GROWING UP… DAUGHTER-MOTHER DIARIES

“Mom I have a doubt,” said my 6 years old daughter. “What’s it dear?” I asked, to be only left stumped by her question. “Why papa loves you when your face is full of spots?”. I am not even exaggerating, those were really her words. I can understand with the kind of exposure kids of this generation have the kind of questions they might ask seem to be too soon, too early, and to be honest too much too. I wanted to give her a reason, perhaps a lecture on what true love (ironically beyond the gamut of reasoning) means but considering her age my explanation would be “Too much” for her to comprehend.

I simply asked, “Don’t you love me with all these blemishes on my face?”. And she didn’t budge as she said “I love you, Mama, you are the best” and she gave me a kiss as…

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THREE SISTERS LED THE WAY

It’s a story of the reunion of a man with his daughters. A man had three daughters from whom he got separated. 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 night. He lurked in the darkest corner of the house to…

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EMOTIONS ARE MY TURF

Think about the constant smile on your face when you see or read a good light-hearted romance. Imagine the tears that refuse to get restrained in your eyes when you read a heart-wrenching story. Have you ever experienced that extreme anger towards a fictitious character that’s vile and nefarious? I am sure you must have. I sensed that feeling, quite strongly when I read “Pride and Prejudice”. I rooted for the central characters of Elizabeth and Darcy. Be it fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, biography, autobiography, whatever the content is, the impact would be hollow if the readers are unable to feel or connect with the underlying emotions of the characters they are reading about. In my opinion, Emotions form the core of every story. And me in the capacity of a writer love to spell emotions. My sole purpose in writing every single piece of article or a story is to…

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Widen The Horizon Of Your Happiness

Bestowed with intelligence, comprehension, and the ability to express like no other living being under the sun has ever had, man is ironically the most unhappy creature on the earth. With every advancement man has made throughout the history of human evolution he surely has scaled greater heights of measurable successes which unexpectedly transformed into an inverse relationship with the happiness quotient which is intangible. Well, this is not another cliché lecture about “Money can’t buy happiness” or ” Successful doesn’t mean happy”, because one can be both successful and happy at the same time. In fact. They are not interchangeable but can co-exist. It is about introspecting the horizons of happiness that we have demarcated for ourselves.

Let me ask you one thing. Rather I would prompt you to do this exercise yourself, ask yourself a question – What makes you HAPPY? How often happy you are? Does your…

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BETWEEN THE JOURNEY AND THE DESTINATION

**A road through the rocks and rocky terrain by Kalpana Vogeti**

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 Again,
fear…

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A NEWLYWED BRIDE IS ALL SET TO MEET HER GROOM

“We will meet again at our new abode, soon we shall begin our new journey together,” the newlywed groom said smilingly as he lovingly looked at his teary-eyed bride and departed to resume his job.

In her longing to see her husband, dreaming to commence the new phase of her life, her eyes and fingers paced up and down the inbox of her email searching for every notification and replying to emails concerning her visa process. It went for about one month and finally her passport was stamped with Schenegan’s visa and within a few hours of stamping, she got her tickets booked. Though excited the very idea of taking her first flight, that too to a foreign land and all alone definitely set butterflies free in her stomach. The moment she left her family members right at the entrance of the international airport and set her feet inside the…

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I Sense A Presence – Final

Tears and blood started flowing at an equal pace leaving Henry inert and collapsed at Sally’s feet. His gaze locked at her face with many questions struggling to find a voice.

Sally got down at her knees, gently ran her fingers through Henry’s hair, and blew softly repeatedly and her voice choked with pain “I am sorry honey, I had to help Anne. For so many days she suffered silently. He cheated on her. As she spoke to him she raised her left-hand and kept it angled at a shoulder level as if someone was sitting next to her. She looked that side and nodded in agreement to something.

It was unbearable to Henry now, the pain as well as Sally’s lunacy. He groaned in agony “Stop it! Stop it! tell me why I am being punished this way?” He mustered strength and tightened his grip around Sally’s throat …

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One More Time…

The bird of hope fluttered high and was dashed strongly with disappointment. Bruised and hurt, everyone expected it to give up, but it said “just hurt, not broken yet, let me try One More Time”.

It soared high again, hiding its pain under the wings of smile. Thunder of failure burnt its wings, making it crash to the depths of despair and doom. But it said, “just broken, not dead yet, let me try One More Time”.

It kept looking at the skies, marred by the dark clouds of pessimism yet searching for the silver lining to guide its way. In its longing, breath eluded its body and it said “just dying, not finished yet, I will find you again & try One More Time”.

**A page from every success story where every hurdle became a stepping stone, every failure became a lesson future reference, every insult became…

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I Sense A Presence – XXIV