A New Beginning

The End.
Comes in our life many times
We begin to understand things and decide to change our path. 
We leave behind the memories of moments that broke our heart 
We begin to love again. 
Time moves on..
Time doesn't stop
Time doesnt fly away to distant land.
Time stays,
Reminding us of what we gained
What we lost
Leaving behind a trail
Linking us to the life lessons
We record everyday.
We move on
Each year making new resolutions
Hoping the future will be better
We live differently
With new horizon
With new mindset
But destiny decides
Moments slipping through our fingers
We follow the path,
Towards light of knowledge and hope,
Knowing not where it leads
We arrive
To another dead end
Once more
We choose a goal
To find happiness
To walk on new path again

Gloomy Day

Even though she didnt work in their house anymore, her eyes glistened with tears when she learnt about his death. She immediately rushed to their house to confirm. 

The children, now adults themselves, gave her a hug and started to share the pictures of their family. She waited eagerly to know the cause of death but it was too painful to discuss. 

Seventeen years she had worked for the family..had known all the secrets..their sufferings and their accomplishments..but today, while they waited for the last rites, all they could tell her was about the one month old baby, his first grandchild, and how she had brightened his last days of his life....

Merry Christmas My Christian Friend

Merry Christmas
My Christian friend
Much joy you bringst
To my life
Your fruity cake, very nice.
Thank you
Take a bow
The sounds of christmas
Carols, Wow!
Outside my door
They sing
Happy I am to be
your new neighbor
I hear
Much laughter
From your floor
Festivity is in the air
Twinkling lights everywhere
Fragrance of love
Friendship, smiles
Joy, happiness and much more
This year I will celebrate it too
I shopped for brand new dress
Hindu friends invited at my home
All dressed in red and gold
So while you celebrate
Christmas the Christian way
Seeking
Blessings from Jesus Christ
Watch me celebrate with pride
With similar happiness
Like you

Merry Xmas!!!

Help In Distress

All I have to do is ask
For help
When in distress

But then
I never ask for help
How to?

In the busy world
People are stuck
in traffic jam
Or have their eyes fixed

On scheduled time

Trains get missed
From steady job dismissed
Meeting to catch
Children to fetch
And then there are series
Of social events
Must attend parties
New movies releases
Restaurants hopping
Fitness and lazy gym
Idle chat
Watsapp, 

Twitter chat
Google map

There is really no time
To attend to a friend
In distress

Unsafe World

Land is silent, 


Sky dark blue


Sufferings spew blood 


Over children's graveyard


Tear-stained parents 


Beat their chest


Cursing their helplessness


Cannot stretch hands to


Wring the throats

Of merciless animals


Thousands miles away


In another faraway world

Mother's heartbeat 
skips 


As she kisses in the air


To her children

On their way to school


Unsure

Will they be safe?


She dusts the furniture

Cooks a quick meal

Watches the clock

Plays with her hands



Unable to focus


Her life somersaults


In an uneven pause


Till they return

Chirping and smiling


Back from school

The Year That Was - 2014

Writing blogs is the excellent way to record all the events and the experiences you collect. It is like a open diary.

I was checking my blogs to see how I fared during this year and I have discovered that 2014 has been a wonderful year.

I spend ‪#‎100happydays‬ from January to March posting pictures and writing short notes. I made a board on Pinterest to keep the record of those days and now when I look back to that page at https://www.pinterest.com/pushpz/100-happy-days/  it always cheers me up.

I went to Krabi (Thailand) for the launch of my Sindhi cookbook ‪#‎SindhiCuisne‬, There was a wedding to attend and I knew all the friends and relatives of the Sindhi family from all over the world would attend this wedding. This was a great opportunity to launch my book. Everybody showed great interest and they happily bought a copy not only for themselves but also for their friends. I am happy my book has done exceptionally well on the international level. I have posted the album on my Facebook to preserve those memories at my album at FaceBook

My building has finally gone for redevelopment, It took five years to get the ball rolling. there were regular meetings, then new rules, paper work, agreement/disagreement from building member but finally, I can look forward to a new high tec house within next 2 years

I believe in giving back to the world the little good that i can. I am associated with the special school for mentally challenged that I attend on regular basis. This year my special school celebrated 25years of service, Unfortunately I was not able to attend this function because of poor health. But I did make a movie for this occasion and posted on U-tube.. you can watch it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-fAi0PIVAA

 Blogging has made me realize that whole year was good except December when Pain, my best friend, came to visit me and held me hostage during this month…poor health in the month of december has prevented me from attending any events or socializing. 

In pleasure and pain..there was a good balance....life is good!!

Child Needs Respect

What kind of love is that when you beat the child black and blue to put your point across? Abuse him openly for every mistake he commits?

Child should never be the target of frustrations. He is a mini adult and has enough sense to understand and differentiate right from wrong. Child then learns to make excuses to escape punishment. Instead of screaming and shouting at the child, thinking he/she is deaf, a soft tone of communication works wonders. A child needs valid reason for refusal, a child needs respect, and he/she is not stupid.

People tell me that I don’t understand children because I have none of my own. What do I know about discipline? They tell me that only the mother knows best. Yes, I agree, mothers do know the best for their child. But every woman can understand the feeling of a child, irrespective of whether they have the real experience of nurturing children or not.

Passion is the only language children understand.

He may grow up to hate the world because the people he trusted the most (his own beloved parents) betrayed him.

The child who is subjected to violence and abuse in his childhood will grow up to be violent too. He/she may develop many other vices too, stealing, cheating and even rape too, because that will give him a sense of power, a fuel for revenge and anger that was buried down in his subconscious level.

And then parents will wonder where did they go wrong?

Crime

Laziness and illiteracy is the main reason for crime. 

Moral values should be the foundation of growth; also parents play a very important part. During my childhood, Grandma would tell me story everyday before going to sleep instilling fear for every wrong deed done.

I still remember the pictures grandma would show me of the serious punishments given by Gods for telling lies, carrying tales, cheating, stealing and other vices.

I was always afraid of devils relishing the fritters made of my tasty tongue; grandma said my tongue grew tastier with every lie I spoke and devils would love to feast on it.

There were other pictures too. Of people walking on burning charcoal, of devils riding on your back because they loved you for your crimes. The stories were so strong that they remained at the back of my mind, as the firm reminder during every action that I performed.

I watched others too. Many people lied but I felt sorry for them. In my class 2, I had seen one friend copying from the papers during the exams. I informed the supervisor that he was cheating and he told me to mind my own business. But I knew both were wrong and I was wrong too for carrying tales. I stopped carrying tales because the supervisor did not encourage me. I saw the futility of carrying tales. But the right thing should have been for supervisor to stop the child from cheating. He did not.

Kids believe everything their elders tell them so right stories with moral make a huge difference. They watch elders all the time and record every action for replay. They grow up with values from the environment they grow up in.

I am highly disturbed with the crime committed against women. Abuse and rape is become so common. There is certain desire in men to show their power and boost their ego. They want to punish women for refusing to succumb to their will. Men should be taught to respect women from their early years but then it’s their mindset. If correct values are not instilled in them, it is difficult to control them.

The respect has to come from within, to be able to judge right from wrong.

Mistakes

Mistakes bring pain and we question ourselves if we could have done it differently.

But then it is late yet not too late to understand that one matures with each mistake and the pain is the subtle reminder of the things gone wrong….

Mistakes happen all the time, sometimes due to ignorance, and sometimes due to carelessness. I mean who would do the same mistake again? Especially if we know that it always brings pain. 

But mistakes like accidents happen unannounced. 

Then the process starts of dealing with pain and that is the hard part. The outcome of mistakes is sometimes difficult to deal with and leaves the scars for life. Not making the right choice at right time steers our life in different path, and often we think, wish we have been more careful, wish I had been more understanding, wish the luck was on our side…

but then this is life…...

Quest

I sat under a dim light, far end of the room, alone, sipping wine.

It was the most obscure area I could find. The rest of the room was bright with long satin curtains flowing freely from high ceiling to the floor. Large crystal chandeliers glittered brightly, reflecting light whenever a photographer clicked a candid shot.  Waiters moved around the room with trays containing exotic finger food, kebabs on bamboo sticks, cheese flavored spring rolls, mushrooms coated in pepper sauce.

Drumming my fingers, knees quivering, I waited for people to notice me, anxious for somebody to come and greet me, although I knew nobody would look at dark corners of the room. I gulped. It takes real skill to choke on air and still remain calm. At regular intervals, I scanned through my Watsapp messages to swallow few moments of entertainment. Inspiration quotes at regular intervals boosted my ego. I was grateful that not many friends in my watsapp group knew that I was a loser. To my friends, I was a jovial, multi-talented, a superman.

But I knew the truth. A social outcast in my writer’s group, that’s what I am. Imagine not being able to churn out hundred words story in seconds! That is a disgrace. How did my writer friends excel? I pondered.

Far corner, on the left I could see Vijay, a successful writer, whose name has appeared in the nomination list.  With his salt and pepper beard, shiny scalp and a thin poly-tail, he looked pathetic. The long kurta with mismatched cotton bag slung crosswise across his chest confirms the fact that he had no sense of dressing at all, yet the characters in his book are well-dress people with designer labels. Rich, successful people who know all the right words to impress the crowd. Men wear rayon suits with striped classy ties, pointed shoes and have their hair in place with shiny gel. The women in his books are stylish too, manicured nails, chiffon saris, most of the ladies in his books have red bindi on their forehead during the social events. Who puts bindi on their forehead nowadays? Not even the ladies in the villages, they don’t even wear saris at home, just long printed gowns with abstract designs. His stories are so very unrealistic! I am surprised how his book is nominated. Oh God! He is wearing Kolapuri chappal to the ceremony, one strap is coming loose, and what if he wins the award?

I wish somebody would notice me. A facebook friend or a twitter follower, anybody will do. Seems like I am not so famous, although I regularly post my pictures on Instagram. I have thousands of virtual friends, three thousand and twenty-two on Facebook to be exact and ten thousand more on twitter. I do read books, one book per day. Two hundred pages in one go, I am fast that way, maybe they should have chosen me as jury member, I could have helped them select the right books for booker’s prize.

But no, no luck that way

Mona, Sunita, John, Anil, Chandrashekhar, Madhuri, these are the members of jury. Now they sit on that reserved VIP table in the center of the room. I bet they must be discussing their experiences in selecting the book for the award and how difficult it was for them to decide the winner. Each of them look upon themselves as wisest of all, and that misconception completely tarnishes their knowledge. How do they decide? Do they really read all the books that arrive at their home, free of charge? Or do they go hopping blogs to read reviews thus narrowing down the creditability of a book on public demand? Whatever it is, they have one advantage, their personal library increases three-fold mainly stocked with free bees.

Frankly speaking, I believe that you cannot judge a book by its cover; it is difficult. One has to have a deep knowledge of the idea that is discussed in the book, he should be able to relate to it, identify with it. What does Mona know about love? Single, detached workaholic, I have never seen her with a man. She is on the jury for judging books on romantic love. Can she differentiate between lust, romantic love and deep attachment with the partners? Does she know that the person you fall in love with is somebody who fits within your ‘love map’, an unconscious list of traits that you build in childhood as you grow up? There are many love stories interconnected in my books, a lust turning to romantic love, the love bound tightly with strings of attachment, of commitments, of compromises, the emotions like the jealousy, the greed, the attachments leading to the lust, would she understand that?  Reading volumes and volumes of book can only increase your general knowledge. Most of my stories must have escaped her range of imagination.

And then, there is Sunita on that same table, an aesthetic traditionalist. I understand she means well but she advocates for artistic realism as if she understands art as well as my Rex poodle (no offense to my canine friend, whose taste is actually pretty good for a dog). Every writer cannot write a memoir or stories from their personal experiences, some books are written on fantasy and wild imaginations. That is an art. Realism does not always mean reality. Real art is to see through oppression and find a real picture.

I am not surprised that jury failed to nominate me for the booker’s prize. The readers of my book get frustrated with my dialectical style. I seem to contradict myself, they say. Actually, now that that I m thinking, I do that on purpose. I love to confuse people. They must understand that life is bundle of contradictions. I am seeking the truth looking from all viewpoints and assessing them against each other to find the real meaning. I can be cruel, I could be kind, I could be unrealistic too, sometimes I will bend towards ‘identical thinking’ and other times I contradict and criticize. It all depends on situation and the path my story takes.

Lonely is the world writers live in. I could ramble on and on about the injustice meted out to me. I know I deserve worldwide fame. But if my writing does not appeal to this small bunch of jury members, I may continue to be unattractive, invisible, just a moth on the wall.