Just like her.

People usually have role-model, whose footsteps they wish to follow, like whom they want to become one day, on whom they write essay in school stating why they want to become like them, why according to them they are so perfect.

I for one never had a role model. I am sorry but I never did. Instead all throughout I knew that there was one person that I would try and avoid being. Why? How? Please don’t ask but I know that I never wanted to end up like her, nor do I want to now.

And so began the quest of not being like her. But then how much can a person change herself? The more I try not being like her, the more I find that I am the exact replica of her, the good, and the bad everything has been inherited from her. I am just the spitting image that I thought I never would be.

And then again the struggle starts of not being like her. But how long can this go? And what about not changing yourself? But then what about not being like her?

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The bed box

She was sitting on this dim corner of the cave, very peaceful, not even caring that she had lost her way, and that she was away from the company that she had entered with. The place was unnervingly silent, and the cool setting was a bit too much for her to take. Still, she sat there motionless and tranquil not thinking about the consequences. She knew someone would ultimately find her. She was also aware that subconsciously she wanted no one to discover her, and stay completely lost in her own world, hidden away from everything else.

That is when I woke up, realising that I was sleeping inside the bed box- the extra bed that the hotel provided. With that dream ending unexpectedly I could only hope for someone to come and push the bed box inside the bed and let me just sleep and to know that if she is eventually able to stay away from everything?

The need for a bedside table!

I lie on the bed with the lights dimmed already, with the temperature of the room set accordingly, and with the novel in my hand, ready to be lost into. In order to avoid any kind of disturbance I put my phone away, on the study table at the far corner (I don’t need it anyway plus it helps me wake up in the morning if it is far away). All set for the perfect ‘alone time’ I start reading the book.

A page or two goes by and then I have something in my mind; a topic on which I feel should write and share it with my fellow bloggers. So I lazily stand up, scribble on a post it and stick it on the wall to remember the next day. So there I slump again on the bed, cuddle against a cold sheets, soothing and yet again I loose myself amidst the fictional world.

This time not even a paragraph goes by when I remember something from the day and again, unwilling I get up, post-it on the wall and return, this time making it sure I would not get up before I complete ten pages.

And so I wait for the ten pages to be done, and hastily get up before I forget to jot it down, and there goes another post it on the wall. This is how my wall is always clustered with post-it for to do lists, for something to share with my blogger friends, and even something that I have to let other people know.

This goes on for a while, until I am tired enough to get up again, after which I unwillingly take my phone with me, so that I at least do not have to get up. After another couple of reminders set on my phone, finally I decide to doze off. It is after all 1:00 AM.

Of course my mind is unwilling to shut down and so I aid to my ear phones, leaving behind my comfy bed, one last time. Somehow amidst the dreams of the story going on in the novel, with the lyrics of the songs and with many other unfiltered thoughts in my mind I doze off, finally.

And that is how my mother finds me often, early in the morning, with music flowing through the earphones and yet scattered somewhere under the pillow, with my phone snoozed off and hidden somewhere between the sheets, and the novel that I would be reading tucked beside me. And every single morning she would wake me with same monotonous say, “Why do you have to sleep with all of these things? Why can’t you just keep them all away on the table?”

And every single time I would say, “I just need a bedside table, mom. It would solve all my lazy problems. You don’t know the struggle of waking up once you are tucked into bed, restfully.”

“Yeah, right! But why do you have to get up in the middle of the night anyway?

Atithi tum kab jaoge?

If you are tired of your work, if you really need a break, what do you do? Most certainly, I would go off on a vacation and not barge into someone’s place uninvited, unwelcome. I also thought that most people would do the same until recently when I came across a person who was willing to break into anyone’s apartment rather than hers.

We had the terrible month of the year, with a wedding just done with in the family, with renovation in the house going on, with my brother’s college going, with my exams; in short every one of us in the family was deep submerged into work.  And on top of it all we had a distant relative coming over. This relative of us has never been that close, we have never visited each other; in fact we don’t even see each other unless there is an occasion. So she called us one fine day to ask if it was okay for her to come over and stay with us for a while? What were we to say? No? of course not! That would have been just rude and mean, but a yes was an added trouble at that time.

So with a diplomatic answer my parents hung up the phone, hoping she got the hint. With no door bells for the couple of days we thought she did get the hint, but then the third day brought her in with her two daughters just when we were having our lunch.

What is it a hotel? No!! We live in our house and we don’t expect uninvited people all the time. So how are we to feed them? Of course the men don’t realise this.

“Come, come, eat with us.” Said my dad.

But what do we serve them? I was to eat out so there was food for the only three of them. Any how my mother managed to prepare food for all. And she also made separate food for her 6 month old daughter.

Food was not the problem. It was her distance from us. We barely meet and talk, and now she was at our place, and we were lost with what to do with her and her two daughters. Her 6 month old was still fine to be with, but her elder daughter 6 years old, she was a child I have never seen. She would not sit still for a moment, and I can safely say that there is a fine line between being a child and a manner less one. Believe me; you wouldn’t have seen such a kid. I lost all my control when she tore two of my prepared answers to which I had no other copy of and still her mother did not say a word. I lost all control and yet all I could do was ask her politely to take that child away! What was I to do?

I knew kids are not my cup of tea, but I also am always capable of handling them well. At least manage to. But she was out of my imagination. All I wanted was to ask her to leave but of course that was out of the question.

And so this whole inconvenience went on for the next week. Our home was just a weird place to live in even for us. When she lived with us, we realised that she had guests at her own place and she was just tired of all the work and needed a break herself.

I don’t know how relieved she must have been living with us and having very little in common with us, but for us it was very bizarre. And all the while we just hoped when she would leave and we could get rid of fake smiles, unintended politeness, and all the formality.

We were in a situation of-

“Atithi tum  kab jaoge?”

 

Den. Ben. 10

Many years had passed when,

I found myself living in a troubled den,

It was surely a troubled den-

For it seemed that there I had passed years 10.

I cried and cried, I tried to complain to Ben,

But no fruitful aid could he provide me then.

This my situation was, my dear Ken,

And I could not overcome it even in 10.

I cried and cried

I tried and tried to talk to Ben,

But time was unfortunate for me

And nothing could happen then.

Disturbed as I was, to soothe myself I took a pen,

Comfort was not meant for me,

Even after scribbling on pages 10.

And yet many more years had passed when,

I was still living in the troubled den. !

PS: This is a small piece that I wrote really a long time ago, probably during my younger school days. I don’t know if it makes sense to you, let me know on the comments below.

Carpe diem

There are times when I have; rather we all have at some point in our lives wanted to seize the moment, which is all what carpe diem is about. I mean just for a moment think how beautiful it might me if we could actually seize the moment, live and relive our best flashes of pleasure and contentment. If only we could…..

We all at some point of our lives must have attended such theme based parties where we want nothing but to save the blissful time for eternity, in form of reminiscence or even as snapshots and pictures. Haven’t the modern technology made quite possible the impossible.

And yet at times I wonder why can’t we seize the day, not only in form of photographs but in some different form where those happy days might just not vanish away.

I always keep wanting for the best days to come, for instance when one of my cousin was visiting me this summer, I was all excited about it since days. Overjoyed as I was, the days came and went away and all I am left with is the nostalgia that how quick it all went by. First in the wait of his visit, then the days when he was here, all just seems now as a split second. How highly spirited those days were but it all went by just as it came. Of course I have the photographs and the beautiful memory of his stay but isn’t it all going to fade away?

We humans will always want more and here I am wishing for more…..if only I could relive it again and yet again….

Do we really seize the moment? Does it really stay with us all our lives?

Cogito Ergo Sum. ["I think Therefore I am"]

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