Pinku-Enchanted Life

I have wanted you so much I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you Of course I was smart, I didn’t let anyone know It wouldn’t do to carry your heart on your sleeve Would it? But, I have wanted you There is no mistaking it Have day dreamed about your fingers laced in mine Of wild rides through hills and vales With you by my side Now they tell me I have to let you go Let you go even before I really see you Even before we have looked into each other’s eyes and seen our souls joined how easy is it you tell me? Why am I always faced with these decisions? Where and when did God decide that I should be an example of stoic acceptance? Why cant I rant and rave? And refuse to let go? Why must I be logical and practical? I don’t want any of it, I just want you. Is it so very much to ask?

I was a little more than three when mom was expecting my sibling. On the train to Durgapur where my masi stayed and where we were headed for the delivery, people kept telling me that soon you will have a little brother to play with. The thought disgusted me so much that I warned Mom I might throw the new baby out of the train if she gave me a baby brother. I had wanted a baby sister desperately and brothers were not my idea of fun or playmates. Mom kept her promise and Payel was born on 29th august 1980. A small little baby all pink and very small. I claimed ownership from the first day onwards, she was MY sister and no one had more rights to her than me. Mom says I used to wake up with a start at night even if the baby were to wail once. Back in Faridabad, every small gift I got, a few toffees from a classmates birthday in school or a little something that friends or relatives gave I would first offer to Pukai as we called her. We never had any sibling rivalry or atleast I didn’t. On

Frowning hard, swearing under our breath trying to tackle the latest problem that threatens to rock our little boat, we suddenly remember you, and we smile. Quarreling with each other, our hearts as gloomy as the sky outside wishing for a bit of peace, we think of you, and we smile. Our dreams turn rosier, our thoughts pure We tread lightly, with an invisible spring in our steps, We know without being told that your finger has touched us somewhere Lust has turned into love, passionate lip locks been replaced by chaste kisses on the forehead in the foyer of a cinema, all thanks to you We are waiting for you, eagerly, hopefully, to come and change our life forever we of the frayed nerves, of the cynical mind for a moment we shed all our negativity and Miracle Maker with a smile we await you

It was a lazy Sunday. It was a really lazy Sunday. So lazy infact that we couldn’t get ourselves to don some proper clothes and go out to the market to pick up some onions. However lazy or not a Sunday lunch minus non-veg was not a possibility, so I thought maybe I could do something about the chicken in the freezer which would not involve onion and therefore not necessitate going out. Started out with de-freezing the chicken (by now you must be wondering what kind of a household has chicken but no onion. But well that’s the way we are.) While the chicken thawed I looked around at my spices wondering which ones could come up with an acceptable concoction. I wanted to eat it with parathas so it had to taste desi, couldn’t try any continental or oriental options. I settled for a recipe I had heard for mutton when its cooked for Ma Kali. The format demands that no onion or garlic be used since its part of the ‘bhog’ for Ma. Marinated the chicken with curd, cumin powder, salt, ginger powd

The Voices of Bahai performed at the Lotus Temple auditorium on the 25th of June 2010. We had escaped respective work dreading calls from work calling us back to our desks at about 6:30pm. The program was to begin around 7pm. We walked into the lounge area to see the doors to the auditorium still closed. Lotus temple is known to be an Indian place so delays of about ten fifteen minutes are taken as a regular feature. However this friday the minutes ticked on with the doors still shut firmly. By this time the entire lounge area was filled with people, mostly the old and retired who had difficulty standing but were reluctant to leave. The volunteers finally after half an hour brought out chairs along with the information that the program was delayed due to technical issues and would start in another fifteen odd minutes. We waited while wondering what a large contingent of North east students were doing there. The usual audience to these programs always tend to be atleast three times thei

Life is still in turmoil and the near future will also be the same way. Police stations, society leaders, political clout holders, we keep visiting them by turns hoping to find a solution and more importantly find out why this girl is doing what she is doing. She comes from a lower middle class family, her father needed help from all and sundry to get her married off, in a scenario where we had no demands. I really doubt his ability to support her for the rest of her life. She had not wanted for any material comfort in the two months she was in our house, from a house with two bedrooms for eight occupants, she had come to one which has four bedrooms for a total population of four. She had no responsibility nor chore expected of her. Yet she went ahead and ruined our life and hers too. I am still searching for the reason. On monday back from another visit to the Police station, drained of hope or strength I had opened an old book to find a handwritten note in it. I read it and found yet