Posts

To India, with love!

  I miss everything about you. Every sound, every smell, every sight. It’s like I’ve left a big piece of my heart there and carried all the remaining pieces here. I’m now arranging those pieces to make sense out of it. To make sense out of every decision I’ve made that got me here. Not lying that there were days I craved to be where I am today, now that I’m here, there’s still a longing and so much pain. Will there ever be a point in adult life where you feel full and content? I think in moments, yes. A few days ago, I felt that in fleeting moments. When all the pieces of my heart were put together quite literally in one room, I felt full and content. In my parent’s home, on Indian soil. Being back to the grind and work, with new faces all around, chores unlimited, silences of the night, mind full of thoughts, bouts of heartaches and tears, hundreds of emails, targets to reach, jumping off every hurdle, falling and getting up, dusting off and then running again through it all, I ne
1 comment
Read more

Growing up!

When I was a little girl, I didn’t particularly like school. Whenever my Dad used to drop me off at school in the morning, I used to cry till the gates closed behind me. Nothing much has changed today just that I willingly stayed back and said bye to my dad instead as the gates closed. But there are a few things in common the emotion, the tears and the people involved. There are days like today where I question all my decisions and deeply introspect every event that led me to take these in the first place. Today as I waved bye to my dad after spending 6 wonderful days together for a few minutes I couldn’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t go with him. I don’t know why I stayed back or why I moved at all. Goodbyes are so damn hard. For me it’s not the good bye that was triggering, I’m packing his stuff, I see his packed suitcase, we reach the airport, I say bye and we hug, I come home to a now empty place, I see his room, I see the glasses he's used, the tickets from our trav
Post a Comment
Read more

Man in White!

Image
  A write up doesn’t justify the institution that Tatayya was and I’m short of words to write about him to be honest. It’s not like we emotionally talk our hearts out, it was never that way. It’s hard to imagine him having a heart to heart discussion with someone really. I can say our bond grew stronger only in the past 10 years, when we frequently discussed about Panchatantra, Bhagavadgita, Vishnu Sahasranamam, Time zones, his philosophy, Technology, helpers in the house (this was our personal fav) amongst other topics. Though these are his favourite topics of discussions with anyone, I was keen to understand what had led him to strongly believe in Panchatantra of all books & in general was intrigued by his way of thinking. To be honest, I wanted to ask my mom so many things, but things didn’t work out and those questions remained unanswered and there’s so much I don’t know about her like what was the happiest moment of her life. How did she feel when she lost her parents so you
2 comments
Read more

Mine!!!

Today is my man’s birthday. I’m pretty sure this love I have for him is not just from this life, I think he was my baby or someone I dearly loved even in my past lives. I remember the day he day he shouted at me for the very first time, I was crying at the school gate, we were already late and he said ‘Stop Crying’ a little louder and that’s it, I was heartbroken. I remember feeling devastated. I think I was mad at him for a day until he bought an ice-cream that made things right! He made me feel like a princess. Always. Even when our reality was far from a fairy tale, he made us feel like we’re part of one. So when my daughter asks me for stories, I don’t tell her fairy tales. I tell her about our family tales instead, the struggles, the happy times, our first house and all the houses we’ve moved, our holidays, our Saturday evenings, dad’s operations, his survival, my feelings, mom’s grit, Avaneesh & I fighting over the silliest of things, Nanamma & Tatayya, Osmania Prof
Post a Comment
Read more

Keepsakes!

I'm reading and loving this book - 'Nobody will tell you this but me'. The writer talks about her mother, her grand mother and about her great grand mother. Their characters, their lives, their troubles, their stories all integrating to make up the writer's story (in real life). While reading this book I really felt I should've recorded my mom's songs, her voice notes or recordings, should've taken pictures of her when she's her usual funny self, should've written down the most valuable advices she gave me even without asking, should've gone with her to those morning walks and most importantly should've written down those recipes which are now delicious memories! But ofcourse I rummaged through her stuff after she was gone and put together what I call a 'Memory Box' of all her things. The comb, powder, hair bands she last used, her diary with no entries about her day or thoughts but expenses and some phones numbers, the lyrics of the
Post a Comment
Read more

Nights in a New place!

Wrote in April'20 - I wrote about Demons earlier. One of them is this. Nights in a New place! There's a longing, an anticipation and there are missing home feelings. I sleep best when I know there are a lot of people in the house/building or when someone is awake, sense of having some company, I guess. The noises of people laughing or having loud conversations in the neighboring houses or some vehicular movement on the roads is all very comforting for me. (Can't say the same about Construction noises though, they're annoying) So our first night in Australia was rather dramatic, luggage fiasco as per usual and our cousins came to pick us up. On our drive from Airport to their house we must have seen not more than 30 cars on the roads. Pitch dark with skies cloudy from all bushfires. Finally when we arrived in front from of their house, it felt like it's literally in the middle of nowhere. Isn't Melbourne supposed to be a big city? I mean where are all the peopl
Post a Comment
Read more

Nanamma❤️

There's something so comforting about Grandmothers. Like a warm blanket on a cold day. I never got to meet my Maternal Grandmother, though I've heard a great deal about her from my mom. But for me, in this life, Nanamma was the one and only.  We tend to like few people from the time we don't even know our own names. Even before we know what is liking.  I liked her from then and in her own words I must have heard this some 100 times, that I cried moment I saw her, after I was back from my mom's sister's place when I was 2 years old. I vividly remember the walls of the OU quarters, the lawn and a chess table in the center where Nanamma and Tatayya played chess every evening and we'd be hanging on trees like monkeys. I remember the aroma of her cooking, her very soft and wrinkled hands, they have magic in them. There's not a dish she's not good at. Anything, like anything she makes is THE yummiest even Upma. She was loved by all our relatives and frien
Post a Comment
Read more