Promise....

When my son's first grade was over, he brought home lot of material - like worksheets completed in school, journals written in the classroom, craft-work etc.... I always like to go through all that he has done, like most mothers. And more so, because it gives me a peek into his mind. 

The journals that his teacher made the kids write was all about the things that happened everyday. So, it was more like a diary. The best part about reading a kid's diary is that there is no beating about the bush. They write their mind, literally. There is no 'construction' of the 'self' for the reader. They are autobiographies in their purest form. There is no embellishment of any sort. There are words that convey what happened, and there are pictures scribbled with the best possible effort. 

One such entry in the journal was 'Mother'. They had to write some things/facts about their mothers. It surprised me that he observed me so closely. He was correct on most of the things - like what I like to do, where I like to go etc. But the thing that struck me the most, the thing that touched me and tickled me to the core was the answer to the question - What do you like the most about your mom?

My son's answer was brief and straight - My mom never breaks a promise.

I cannot utter in words what this made me feel. I have told him time and again that a promise to yourself, or to your friend is something you ought to keep. There have been times when he saw that despite difficulties, I kept my word. He would ask me why and I would reply 'because I had promised'. I feel proud that he is imbibing that positive trait from me. A few words came to my mind and I write them here:

To be a true friend

Be true to your word

To be a good person

Be true to your word

A promise you make

Defines not who you are

But a promise you keep

Speaks volumes about you

Sometime back, I wrote a poem with my son in mind. You can read it here - Darkness Scares me Not, It Stares at my Greatness - We all are great if we choose to.... 

Linking to Blog-a-rhythm's Day 7 of the #BaraThon #Blogging challenge

To read previous posts written for #BarAthon, see below:

Stranger than Fiction

Begin with a Clean Slate

Frangible Structures

Greed or Sacrifice....

Outgrown

Delusions

Outgrown.....

Soumya looked at them again. Then, she picked them up, and caressed them. The gentle grey and the soft pink colors played in her eyes, and perhaps in her memory too. She was in that room, but only physically. Her mind was transported somewhere else along with her heart. She was of slim built. Her hands were long, and her fingers thin and lean. In those slender but long hands, the tiny shoes looked even tinier. She hugged them, once again. Then, she lifted her head as if she was woken from a trance. She looked around. The room was scattered with clothes. Her four year old daughter was busy playing with some trinkets she had just taken out from the closet.

"Devika, can you come here, my dear?" She called out to her daughter.

The little girl took some sprightly steps towards her and landed in her lap.

"Look at these shoes. These were your first walking shoes. You took your first little steps wearing them."

Devika looked at them. "Pretty", she said. Then, she held the tiny shoes in her hand for a moment. Something else caught her attention the next minute. "Dollie.....my lost dollie....", she loosened her mom's grip dropping the shoes from her hands, and jumped away.

With a sigh, Soumya picked up the shoes.

They don't mean anything to her at this age. And why will they? I am the one whose mind is filled with memories of those days. The many moments I have spent with her, the times I have fallen with her, the instants I have cried with her, feeling the pain of the cuts and scrapes on her knees and hands. It is me who is more attached to these tiny shoes. They are not just shoes for me. They are part of my motherhood. But to her, they are just shoes that don't fit anymore......... Baby shoes, how I had searched for the best I could afford for her, going from one shop to another....... Baby shoes are so pricey. The cuter they look....... the pricier they get....But I stole a deal that day, thank my lucky stars.....

Image Source

She touched the shoes one more time. Even though her daughter had used them so often, they were in the best condition. Unspoiled, un-torn, and beautiful.

They can be really useful for someone....another little girl like mine....someone's little princess.....They might brighten her eyes as she will look at these little beauties....hmm....I will miss them.....but.....that's not important.....Some other mom like might be able to smile as she watches her angel walk in these gems....

Her hands hesitated. Her heart ached. She put them in a bag and dropped them in the box labelled DONATION.



Linking to Blog-a-rhythm's  Day 5 of the #BarAThon #blogging challenge

The Good Daughter

Three cups of tea lay on the table untouched. The cookie jar sat next to the cups, undisturbed. The chirping of birds outside was crisper, owing to the silence inside the house. Meera wondered what to do. Her husband was out of town owing to some office work. His job was very demanding. Her daughter Naina left yesterday for her first job to the States. Meera had been so busy packing up everything for her - from her tooth-brushes to her dresses, from her shoes to everything she might need for the kitchen.

"It would take time to settle in Naina. You must have everything when you land so that you don't have to run here and there for small things." Meera had told her daughter.

"You worry so much Mom. I will be fine." Naina had protested just like any other girl her age. But she knew deep in her heart that her mother worried for her since it was the first time she was going so far from her.

The farewell was heart-rending for the mother. She had spent her entire life around her only daughter. As the plane took off, Meera remembered the umpteen lullabies she had sung to Naina. She recollected the many times her daughter fell while learning to walk. She relived the many moments they would look in the mirror admiring each other in their new outfits. Her first smile, her first tear, her first accomplishment, her first failure, her first love, her first heart-break, her first mistake - Meera had lived through it all. And now, she stood there waving good-bye to her little bird as she flew in search of her dreams.

Meera had returned to the empty house. Her past two decades of life had been her daughter's. She opted out of job as she wanted to give in her hundred percent to her little star. She would prepare breakfast for her, and wake her up for school or college. She would make her favorite dishes, buy things as per her daughter's tastes. Her friends were treated with some luscious delicacies. It was fulfilling for a mother to see her daughter smiling.

But now, what was she going to do? She had no appetite. She did not prepare breakfast. She looked out the kitchen window. This was the place where the two would often stand and talk for hours, watching the outside world go about its business. They would crack jokes at some weird sight, and have some serious discussions too. Today it was all silent. No-body was there to talk to. 

Meera cleaned the last night's dishes. She wiped the kitchen counter clean. Then, she went to the bedroom and straightened up the pillows that she had tossed here and there thinking about Naina. She looked at the watch and wondered how long she would have to wait before Naina's plane landed. She switched on the TV and incessantly changed the channels. Then, she turned it off. She went back to the kitchen window and stared blankly. She turned and headed towards her daughter's room. Th door was ajar. Meera peeped in, as if hoping to find Naina inside. All she met was nothingness. She traced her steps back to the kitchen. She started peeling some potatoes absent-mindedly. "What will you eat today Naina?" She muttered to herself in the dead silence. Just then the phone rang. Meera ran to pick it up. Naina had reached safely.

"There is something in the drawer for you." Naina told her mom.

"Stay safe Naina. Eat well. Take care of your health. Keep calling...." was all the Meera could say.

The call ended. Meera was relieved. She started chopping potatoes at a faster pace. Suddenly, she remembered the drawer. She ran to open it up.

There lay a letter, a pen and a book.

On the letter were the words:

When it rains outside and there is no umbrella, I will imagine you covering me in your aanchal. When I feel hungry, I will eat thinking that you are feeding me with your hands. When I look out the window, I will talk as if you are standing next to me. When I sleep, I will hold the pillow tight as if I am holding your hand. I will take care of myself for you. Promise me that you will too, for me. I want you to write, every single day, a letter for me. I want you to take up all that you gave up many many years ago. It won't be easy, but as you taught me, it is not impossible to do something if you have a heart in it. Read every night, as if you are reading to me. Begin with the book I am leaving. I know you will like it. And please Mom, take care of yourself, for me. I will miss you.....

Meera's hands were shaking. Her eyes all welled up. She took a few deep breaths. Then, she looked at the book. The title brought a faint smile on her face. It read : The Good Daughter

Image Source

P.S. - Three Cups of Tea is a book written by Greg Mortensen and The Good Daughter is a memoir written by Jasmin Darznic.



This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

One Year of Blogging Completed and Still Going On....!

Image Source

One year back, I started a journey. It had no destination. It had no prescribed path. It was just an act - an act resulting from a will to break free from all negativity, to come out of pain. And in this journey, I learnt a lot. I made new acquaintances, new friends. Some inspired me with their warmth, some believed in me, some filled me with awe with their modesty and unpretentious knowledge. All in all, the journey taught me to just keep going on. The journey made me realize that the more I learn, the less I know. I learnt to be humble and persevering. I want to thank all my friends on facebook who read me and supported me. I want to thank BlogAdda which provided wonderful prompts every week, and IndiBlogger where I made lot of friends. I want to thank all the fellow bloggers who read me and provided valuable feedback. There are so many of you that I cannot name all here. So, a heartfelt thanks to all of you.


Last but not the least, I want to thank my Mom, who has been my light, my support always. She stands by me like a strong pillar, although to tell you the truth, she is barely five feet tall! Her spirit is so strong that she never fails to motivate me.

It also happened to be my late grandmother's birthday when I wrote my first post last year.  I realized it only after I had published the post. The discovery made me smile. It gave me a feeling of joy. I had been dilly-dallying on the idea of creating a blog since a very long time but it was bound to happen on such a special day. My mom's mom....she was a fascinating lady. Full of charm, graceful, and oh my...what a temper. As children, me and my brother were scared of her anger but we loved her a lot. She loved us a lot too. She would often make nice, yummy Indian delicacies for us. Her laddoos, shakkar-paras, her maththis.....I cannot forget how wonderful she was with whatever she did. I feel blessed to have started a new venture and I feel that she is watching me. Wherever you are, Badi mummy, guide me and help me sail on. My blog will be my feelings, my thoughts as they come to me. They will be stories from my heart, ponderings of my soul. They will be my therapy in times when I feel sad. And I hope that whosoever reads them will smile too. 

I am posting a link below of a story I wrote earlier last year which I don't think I have shared with my fellow bloggers. Please enjoy when you can and leave your feedback on the story if it touches your heart.

Nanna's Corner