A Princess World

A magical wand and a dazzling white gown,

The eight-year-old became the talk of the town.

With her crown sparkling and eyes twinkling,

The father’s little princess could barely stop smiling.

Sailing paper boats in the muddy puddles,

Silly pillow fights only meant more cuddles.

The sight of a small wound in her toe,

Became her braveheart’s biggest woe.

A graduation hat adorned her head pretty fast,

Even when the list of memories seemed vast. 

The man who never refused her a piggy-back ride,

Now shook her hands with utmost pride.

It was the day when her future awaited her across the aisle,

She firmly clutched his hand throughout the mile.

A perfect hero in her eyes through the years,

The father’s little princess could barely hold back her tears.

10 Popular Indian Food Items In Literal English

Building An Appetite For Indulgence

“I have heard a lot about ‘paav bhaajji.’  I want to know what it tastes like,” my 10-year old cousin from the United Kingdom stated, when she came to India for the first time. Starting with the description of pav, I said that it was a ‘thick piece’ of bread mostly consumed while eating pav bhaji. “What is thick bread?” I was asked. “Eh, a joined, two-layered piece of thick bread. Okay, wait. It is a joined-on-one-side, double-layered piece of bread,” I hesitantly tried to explain. I wonder if my cousin ever thought about my obsession with the word ‘thick’, after I tried explaining the constituents of bhajji. “A thick gravy of varied mashed vegetables topped with raw onions and lemon,” I said, while being certain that I had left room for doubts. As a stickler for chaste English, I felt ashamed of not being able to phrase the description correctly, which led to what I would like to call, a full-blown, challenging battle with words to come up with a translation for every Indian food dish possible till the time the English bug in me was not satisfied. 

Here goes the list of some of the popular Indian food dishes translated to English meant to compensate for my momentary lapse. It’s an attempt to try and make every dish sound as interesting as possible before an American can go, “Can I get some dough-zaa?’’

1) Pani puri (pronounced paa-nee poori) - Minted Chilly Water Crisps

An elliptical, crunchy puff made from semolina with a hollow in the centre filled with squelchy chick peas, mashed potato and date sauce, all of which is topped off with its peculiar, green water oozing out.

2) Vada Pav (pronounced va-daa paa-v) - Potato Dough Ball Sandwich

Potato fritter in the size of a big dough ball squeezed in a bread bun and garnished with spicy, chilly sauces and a generous serving of butter.

3) Samosa (pronounced samoh-saa) - Flaky Potato Wraps

An evergreen favourite with Indians, it is a supple, glazy dough of potatoes and peas deep-fried to form a thick, flaky crust around the mixture.

4) Kanda Poha (pronounced kaan-daa poh-ha) - Onion Shreds In Rice Flakes

Imagine the divinity of pink, sautéed onions mixed with rice flakes flushed in oil and turmeric only to give your taste buds a true feel of deliciousness. 

5) Gulab Jamun (pronounced gulaab jaa-moon) - Sugary Berry Ball

Made out of milk solids, Gulab Jamun is a representation of an Indian doughnut that is dunked in sizzling, sugary syrup to give one heavenly feels till the time its taste lasts.

6) Sabudana Khichdi (pronounced saa-boo-daa-naa khich-dee) - Pearly Pot

Tapioca pearls tossed in a rich assortment of peanuts, green chillies and cumin seeds ensuring a delightful sojourn for your oral glands, while exploring the taste of the varied ingredients, collectively.

7) Chole Bhature (pronounced chho-le bh-toora) - Palatable Peas & Bumper Bread

Beguiling, juicy chick peas drenched in a hot, red gravy served with deep-fried, leavened bread meant to seduce the consumer one dripping bite at a time.

8) Jalebi (pronounced ja-ley-bee) - Spiral Crunches

Hot  and crunchy delight spiralled in a deep-frying pan before being amply loaded with sugar syrup so as to stimulate your sensory glands. 

9) Pav Bhaji (pronounced paa-v bhaa-jee) - Bunned Hotchpotch

An assortment of vegetables mashed in a cooking pot to form a stocky, red gravy before devouring it with a bread bun garnished with butter and then more butter.

10) Dhokla (pronounced dh-o-klaa) - Gujarati Cake

A scrumptious and spongy piece of floured finery pairing up with green, coriander sauce in order to tease your notorious taste buds.

A Woman's Quest To Find Her Lost Identity

The seven-year-old was finally declared dead after a long battle with pneumonia. The mother of the child, who was sitting in the waiting room, was subsequently informed about the passing away of her only child. The nurses covered the body of the dead child with a thin sheet of white cloth only to show the child's little face.

"Today, I have been relieved of all my responsibilities. Now, I shall probably have the opportunity of coming closer to finding my real self. God bless you, my child, one last time. I hope I did justice to you during our time together. May you be happy wherever you are," the mother exclaimed with an unusual calm on her face. It probably felt like the calm before a storm.

It was a cold winter evening, when Leena was all set to elope with the man of her dreams. Anish and Leena were neighbourhood friends, who eventually fell in love before deciding to get married. Leena went against her parents' wishes to marry Anish. A few years into their marriage, Anish was involved in an extramarital affair with his colleague, which left no stone unturned to tear his wife's world apart. He soon started to stay away from home and his wife and child for long periods. Everybody around the couple, including Leena's parents, had learnt about Anish's relationship with another woman. Leena, whose parents' had permanently closed doors on her, was rendered helpless and had nowhere to go. Leena often regretted her decision to marry Anish and snap ties with her kin until one day, when she decided to walk out on him.

The beaches of Goa have a unique way of talking into your sorrow. Every wave brings a new hope that tranquilizes your worries about the future. Leena had shifted to Goa soon after she lost her child. While the mornings and afternoons were spent attending theatre classes, Leena would end her day by spending long hours at the beach trying to adjust to her new-found freedom. After forsaking her identity all her life to be someone's daughter, wife and mother, Leena was left grappling with a huge void, when the focus of her life had shifted to her own existence. Sometimes the things one has long-awaited are often the ones that create maximum turbulence to enter your life. Having constantly lived on the edge, while fearing the loss of a loved one, a life devoid of pain, uncertainty and suffering was something Leena could only dream of ever since the time she walked out of her parents' home.

As days started passing by, Leena's past was starting to become a distant memory. Although there were times when Leena would have sudden bouts of loneliness, there was never a moment when she felt compelled to look back. Going on the stage and getting into the skin of a character transported Leena into a world which was a far cry from the world that had presented Leena with only misery and rejection. She started channeling her agony and sorrow to add depth and nuance to her acting. The opportunity to revel in the pleasure of being someone else, albeit for a brief period of time, had always been fascinating for Leena since she was a child. Little did she know, back then, that her own life would be reduced to short stints of drama.

It was a winter evening in Goa, and all of Leena's theatre friends had gathered for a house party. It had been ages since Leena adorned her body with carefully selected drapes and accessories. She had forgotten what it felt like to socialize. That evening, Leena sported a pink lace dress with a black shrug to complement her black stilettos. She had braided her hair on one side and ensured that she carried a handbag, which went with what she was wearing. As the evening proceeded, Leena chose to let loose in the company of booze. The trauma of her past had haunted her enough to yearn for a celebration of what lay ahead. "I found my first family when I was born. I was very happy living in my small world with the people I most loved. Things soon changed, when I started dating Anish, my ex-husband. My family, who was against my relationship with him, chose to disown me the day I eloped with him. I had probably assumed that having my knight in a shining armour by my side would bring an end to all my life's miseries. Breaking ties with my first family, whom I had refused to share with anybody, at once, only meant that the brightest part of my life was erased. I lost my second family the day my child departed from this world. The child that I had brought into this world gave me something very special while leaving - freedom to find my own self, which was somewhere lost, while being a daughter, wife and mother. The family that I have found, here, has known me as a woman who is on a mission to find her real identity. Today, I can proudly say that I have found a family that has accepted me by choice. I hope that we always stay like this. Cheers to my you all," exclaimed an emotionally charged Leena before all her friends engulfed her in a warm hug.

Months had soon turned into years. Leena, who was bestowed with the prestigious Best Student award, had earned an entry into a leading theatre group, which performed plays with a social message across the country. Before she knew it, Leena was traversing the country for numerous shows every year. Her past was now visibly distant. The agony of her betrayals had drowned deep in the roles that she played. Or that's what she portrayed. She was slowly getting accustomed to a life, which demanded bringing the best out of her. She was now living for herself and had slowly started to find what truly held the power to make her happy. And it wasn't really all that much about finding success and becoming independent as it was about learning to find happiness without the fear of losing it that made Leena value her worth. She had become a hero in her own eyes, a far cry from resorting to a man in her life to derive strength from.

It had been 11 years since the time Leena had last met her parents. "Maybe my child left me as a punishment for my decision to choose my husband over my parents. Maybe I was not deserving to be a mother. Maybe my child would have been alive, today, had it not been for what I did to my parents. I have sinned. I couldn't do justice to my child," thought Leena to herself after suddenly waking up with dizziness. Before she could know, Leena started hallucinating and began talking to her dead child, whom she thought to be alive and sleeping beside her. Leena, who had a play lined up for the afternoon, got up and stormed out of her room. She started walking aimlessly. As her feet started pacing, her past and present, both, flashed in front of her eyes. Here was a daughter, who was serving a lifetime of separation from her parents for committing a grave sin. She had dared to make a choice of staying with a partner she had fantasized growing old with. A wife had been ruthlessly betrayed for the love of another woman. The wife's fault was that she had worshipped a future of seeing sunsets, while clutching the hand of her better half and find all the peace in her small world. There was a mother, whose kid went out of her sight and never came back. And then, there was Leena, a popular theatre actor, who had won several awards and accolades for her work.

While Leena continued to head aimlessly on the streets, a child, who was playing in the park with her parents, looked towards Leena and exclaimed, "Look ma, isn't she the woman who stopped her husband from drowning their baby girl?" The mother smiled at her daughter and replied, "Yes, she was a beautiful and heroic mother in that play." The girl waved at Leena with excitement and flashed a wide smile at her. Leena, who was standing right across from where the girl was, had seen her own child in that precious girl. She soon ran towards the child and hugged her before beginning to weep.She tightly clutched the child to her chest and cried uncontrollably. It seemed like it was in that warm embrace that Leena had found the consolation for her life's biggest regrets and worst misses.

If men have a penis, women have words

A lot has been said and discussed about the second-hand status of women in India, and the customs and practices that have contributed to their helplessness. Not taking away from my advocacy of equal rights for men and women, I, somewhere, also feel that Indian women have self-victimized themselves a fair bit, whereas men have failed to acknowledge the worth of their women and look at the beauty and hilarity, when it comes to the chemistry between the two species. The negative consequences of our co-existence have outdone how much our distinctness has added different dimensions to our life and made it worthy enough. I feel it's time we end this contest of pitting men and women against each other and celebrate the different aspects of womanhood and manhood and revel in the glory of their idiosyncrasies.

As a Gujarati, most women that form a part of my family and community have been homemakers. And the one thing about Gujarati women that I have commonly observed is their unapologetic way of life. It seems like they wear their pride on their sleeves. Be it fancying their motto - Live, breathe, think and enjoy what you eat - or finding solace in flaunting real jewellery, they do it all with aplomb. In fact, if you're a Gujarati woman and don't quite reflect these typical habits, be ready to forgo your cultural ties. My poor father is quite often subjected to taunts from my mother, who proudly claims that she has been a lucky mascot for him and is the reason for his success. My father, who has happily accepted this claim, now lives to succeed at taking risks courtesy of my mother's good luck.

Women in general have a natural flair for remembering their fights from years ago and using them as a weapon to cut open anybody who tries to launch a verbal attack on them. Sometime ago, I happened to overhear a conversation between my grandparents. "You're not doing any favour by looking after your 85-year-old husband. I can easily find another partner, who shows concern, care and love for her husband," my grandfather exclaimed with masculine pride. Soon thereafter, I could hear the sound of soft giggles coming from the room. It turned out that my grandmother was barely able to resist laughing. " I shall pity the woman who agrees to marry you," my grandmother snapped back. "I highly doubt if anybody would make that mistake even if you paid her a huge amount of money. Good luck!" she added. Such was the impact of my grandmother's words that my grandfather, a lawyer, was utterly agape and was left grappling for words. I, on the inside, experienced a great sense of pride upon witnessing the ultimate victory of somebody who belonged to my species.

We're at that stage in our lives where it is vital to shift our focus from only looking at the shortcomings, that come as a part of our co-existence. Gone are the days when a father tried to make his daughter his son to acknowledge her high worth. If a son is capable of carrying forward the family's legacy, then a daughter is capable of firmly holding the strings that connect a family together. Indulging in a battle, which puts the two genders against each other, is just taking away from their individual worth. And don't forget that a penis cannot do wonders without a vagina. 

The Missing Outlook

I’m often left confused and grappling for an answer when I ask myself this rather thought-provoking question - Do I love something because I’m attached to it?If you follow Buddhist philosophy, then you would know that attachment and expectations are the root cause of pain and suffering. Parents, close friends and family and pets are the ones we rely upon for our happiness and fulfillment. One may have observed that he/she may take a random, instant liking towards someone without even knowing that person. And there cannot always be a reason attributed to that liking. In my daily life, there are a few things that I am always surrounded by. My mobile phone, laptop, handbag, clutch, bed and clothes are things that are difficult for me to part with. They may not necessarily be the most expensive or best looking things in the world, but I love them because they are mine. The difficulty in parting with them does not come from love as much as it comes from my attachment with them. Your pet pooch suddenly coming and biting you will cause a mental disturbance because you “expect” him/her to be disciplined and well-behaved. I wouldn't be as appalled if a stray animal happened to come and bite me. I would probably not go beyond commenting on the inherent nature and behaviour of animals in the latter case. Similarly, if a parent or a child or a close friend lapses in fulfilling his/her duties, can we not look at them all as humans, for once, and forgive their actions?

If there was one word that described me best, then that would be “rebel”. I have always coaxed myself into creating my own path and doing things the way I have envisioned them for myself. I have continuously developed my set of ideas and thoughts to achieve a mental equilibrium, or at least tried to do so. I believe there are a few learnings that have acted as a takeaway from this behaviour, which have just added to my perspective towards life. I have tried to sum those learnings up in some points.

Here goes the over-the-years-developed aggregation:

1) It’s okay to not know everything in this world. You’re a human and not a supernatural being. Those that try to belittle you by indulging in big talks are just nan insecure lot, who need attention. Forgive them.

2) Silence is golden. Trying to keep yourself occupied with conversations that are      not in accordance with who you are can be as good as committing a sin. Both  hold the same power to destroy you.

3) Acceptance of your weaknesses and failures are a sign of your real growth. Trying to move away from your shortcomings and failures just ends up distancing you from success.

4) You don't need money and power to influence people. People around you are always subconsciously registering your actions and behaviour. If you are performing your duties well and doing what you ought to then you are enough of a role model.
5) Living a life with lies is a disservice to your own self rather than to those around. Be selfish and act in your interest.

6) Doing something with consistency for long earns you more confidence and mental satisfaction than small successes or a one-time victory. 

7) Being quiet need not be classified as being less confident. For someone, whose work and actions have surpassed the average threshold of excellence, quietude is the best accessory to adorn.

8) Becoming rich does not bring an end to your problems. It’s just a shift in the complexities of your life. You need to look good, speak well, behave appropriately, maintain your status in the public eye and keep up the facade of being happy at all times.

9) Nature, birds and animals rightfully own this land as much as humans. We must be grateful to them for allowing us to mould their surroundings in a manner which actually has done more harm to them than good.

10) We are all intertwined and dependent on each other for our survival. Displaying arrogance and self-centeredness to stay true to your worth is making a fool of yourself. You're taking away from the credit that others are deserving of for helping you achieve everything that you have right from the time you were born. The air you breathe, the parental contribution to your arrival into this world, the contribution of all the people who have helped you along your journey to success, the love that you have received resulting in shaping you as a person, the friends that stuck around during your times of distress, a helping hand that acted as a stepping stone for your success story, the money spent on your upbringing and education contribute a very small portion to ever-increasing list of things that one must be grateful for.

The Faraway Land

“It was Christmas eve, and Angie could barely contain her excitement. Since the time little Angie had learnt about Santa, she secretly wished for Santa to fulfill her dream of meeting Torriene The Angel. Angie had once read in a book that Torriene The Angel was an angel who came into children’s dreams and fulfilled their desires; but, to get their wishes granted, the children had to give a promise to the angel, who was described to be the kindest angel in the whole land. When Torriene The Angel finally made her way into Angie’s dreams, Angie started shivering. The realization of this dream was a culmination of years of diligence and hankering. When the angel asked Angie what she desired, Angie carefully replied saying that she wanted to spread peace and kindness in the world. Torriene The Angel was surprised to hear this from a child. What Angie had said was very profound, which had a lasting impact on her. When Torriene The Angel asked for a promise in return, Angie said that she would always help the less privileged people around her and treat everybody with love,” the old woman read aloud to her orphaned grandchildren, Keenan and Rhea, a few days before Christmas. 

“I wish to know what y'all would ask for if Torriene The Angel visited you in your dreams. Don't hurry. Think before you come up with an answer,” said the grandmother, before retreating to her bed. Keenan kept tossing and turning in his bed throughout the night trying to find the right answer, whereas Rhea instantly got transported into the dreamland with a teddy clutched to her chest.

It had been a year since Keenan and Rhea had lost their parents in a car accident. A happy family at once, Keenan would often stare out at the gate from his window with the hope that his parents would return home one day. The two siblings, who stayed with their grandmother and widowed aunt, enjoyed listening to the stories that their grandmother would narrate to them. Rhea was just 3 years old when she was told that her parents had left to stay in the heaven with fairies and angels.

The next morning, when Rhea woke up, she ran straight towards her grandmother’s room. “I have found the answer to the question you asked us last night,” Rhea stated excitedly, while tugging at her grandmother’s saree. “If I ever meet Torriene The Angel, then I shall ask her to tell me when mama and papa would be back. You had promised me saying that they have gone to live in the skies just for a few days, but they still haven't come back. I shall promise her that I will not give any one of you a chance to complain and that I will not cry before going to school,” she added.

Keenan and Rhea barely spoke with other children in school. They preferred to stay aloof and rarely ever showed any interest in interacting with their classmates. Their widowed aunt, who was a pianist, would sit by the window and practise different tunes on her keyboard through most of the afternoon. Daily, after returning from school, Keenan and Rhea would rush to their aunt’s room and revel in the enchanting sound of the tunes that were passionately churned out. The afternoon  piano sessions had presented an opportunity for them to plunge into a world that took away from them their despair and helplessness, albeit just for a short span. 

The morning after his grandmother asked him what he wished to demand from Torriene The Angel, Keenan woke up totally confused and distracted. Throughout the night, his mind kept drifting to how his parents left him and his younger sister very early on in life in the care of their aunt and grandmother. Not only was Keenan angry about his and Rhea’s helplessness but also for becoming an added liability in the eyes of their aunt and grandmother. The old grandmother doted on her grandchildren and tried hard to not let them feel the void that their parents’ absence had left, while the widowed aunt worked as a piano teacher in a local school to make ends meet.

Every night, before kissing good night, the grandmother narrated tales and stories to Keenan and Rhea from popular children’s books. If the children’s Ramayana had stimulated Rhea’s imagination like no other book, Mowgli’s adventures in The Jungle Book had left no stone unturned to mesmerize Keenan. The old grandmother indulged her two grandchildren with stories as a way to bond with them. It was these moments of bonding and intimacy that added spark to their modest living. “Please promise us that you will never leave us and go. Mama and papa selfishly went away without taking us along,” Rhea stated to her grandmother, once, before hugging her tight and going to sleep. 

Keenan, who never told Rhea that their parents were never going to come back, often worried that his sister wouldn't be able to cope up with the harsh truth about their life. He thought that Rhea would suffer the same fate as him in school, if she told her friends that she didn't have her parents. Keenan had become a loner in school after he was regularly singled out by his classmates for being an “orphan". He would mostly end up consoling his little sister by saying that they would arrive soon, every time she sat at the door waiting for her parents to return. He never failed to tell her how their aunt and grandmother would be hurt if they saw her crying. 

“I have been trying very hard since the last couple of days to come up with the right answer, but I think I need some more time,” Keenan answered, when his grandmother asked for one. “You seem to have taken my advice quite literally,” laughed the grandmother. The house had warmed up with the anticipation for Christmas. Keenan and Rhea were looking forward to the Christmas break in school. Aunt Shelly, like every year, had prepared apple pie and lemon tart. It seemed like the dark shadows of sorrow that usually hovered over the house had taken a break for once.

Torriene The Angel was quite popular among the children who had encountered her. If Tic-tac-toe and Connecting The Dots were some of the popular games that kept many a school child entertained through lectures, a majority of Keenan’s classmates would excitedly discuss about ghosts, devils and angels at any given opportunity. A boy, who studied with Kenan, had a brother suffering from severe dyslexia. His family had consulted many specialists to help improve his condition without any success. “We were completely heartbroken after realizing that nothing was working for my brother. Just when we had made peace with my brother’s condition, I met Torriene The Angel. She was a tall, petite and pleasant-looking angel with mermaid-like looks. She expressed concern over my brother’s condition and asked me how I wanted her to us out. Not knowing what to ask, I just told her that I wanted to see my parents happy and smiling. She smiled at me and assured me that she would make things alright,” he said. “It’s been a year since I encountered Torriene The Angel, and my brother’s condition has miraculously improved. Although he does have occasional moments of despair and helplessness, my parents are at peace with his improvement,” his friend gushed to his group of boys.

Just when it was Christmas eve, Keenan and Rhea’s grandmother, on her way back home, stumbled over a big rock and fell on her face. The sight of blood flowing from the forehead and nose was enough to send the bystanders in a state of panic. The right leg was twisted and the stomach had deep wounds and cuts. The bags that held grocery, boxes of fairy lights and floating candles had scattered all over the place. In a bid to reach home in time to surprise the Keenan and Rhea with Christmas goodies, the grandmother paced faster and hurried with her remaining purchases before landing in a pool of blood. She was immediately rushed to a nearby hospital.

Keenan and Rhea had already grabbed their seats beside aunt Shelly and were ready to listen to the Christmas carols that they had been demanding. Aunt Shelly had an ingrained penchant for music. She could play different genres of music for hours every afternoon without getting bored. As the music session proceeded, aunt Shelly’s passion began intensifying. The children could hardly take their eyes off her enchanting facial gestures, while she softly moved her fingers on the keyboard. It wasn't until the neighbours' intimation about the situation that it became known to the children and their aunt that the oldest member of the family had been missing in action for a prolonged period of time.

Aunt Shelly and Rhea rushed to the hospital as soon as they received the news of the incident, whereas Keenan decided to stay home to fear the worst. Ever since he had lost his parents, he had begun despising the concept of death and the thought of not being able to see a loved one for long. He had come to think that everybody around him was meant to leave him and go away. Over a period of time, and much to his reluctance, he had forced upon himself the challenge of detachment from all those that were close to him. Tears started rolling down his pink-tint cheeks as he lay on the sofa anticipating the outcome. His swollen, red eyes, from profound grief, spoke a story of their own.

The morning of Christmas saw Keenan wake up after an almost 10-hour slumber. It was after very long that he had a very peaceful and invigorating sleep. His eyes glistened in the sunlight that spread all across his bed through a thin sheet of curtains. Christmas had indeed presented him with one of the most pleasant and brightest mornings. He suddenly remembered his grandma’s condition before rushing out of his room to get a grip on the situation. Keenan was clueless about all that had transpired the previous evening. He had refused to speak or discuss anything with anyone before going to his room He was completely taken aback when he saw his grandmother flashing a broad grin from across the corner of her room in the morning. He took a moment to grapple with the reality. He had seen his grandmother smiling at him from her bed. Yes; he had just seen her!

“I went to bed very angry and disturbed, last night. I feared asking about your condition. I quietly retreated to my room and lay in my bed. Whenever I tried to close my eyes, I felt a strong instinct that I was going to fall off the bed, and I ended waking up with a sudden jerk. After repeated attempts of trying to sleep, I was finally able to relax. A while later, I saw a long and pretty woman with dark, long hair and light brown eyes in my dreams. She introduced herself as Torriene The Angel. She had a very calming and delightful appearance. It seemed like she knew that I was sad and upset and asked me what was bothering me. With a frown on my face, I told her that you had had a very bad accident. I expressed to her how my parents left me and my sister very young and never came back. While tears were rolling down my cheeks, I also told her that I did not go to the hospital to see you as I was fearing the worst outcome. I just couldn't see another loved one being taken away from me. I told her that I did not wish for anything in this world but for you to return back home. God has already been unfair to me and taken away my parents. I did not want him to take you away. I was worried and scared that I may have to tell Rhea that another loved one of hers had made her way to the skies to happily live with God. In return, I promised the angel that I would never complain for not having mama and papa,” Kenan explained before giving his grandmother a bear hug. “I hope I’m not very late in giving you an answer,” he asked, before wiping the tears in her eyes. Rhea and aunt Shelly, who stood in a corner, stepped forward and surrounded the two of them before they all embraced each other in a hug.

What my dog thinks about me

For a pet owner, nothing compares to the joy of striving to stay true to the image your dog has painted of you. My 9-year-old golden retriever is believed to be one of the calmer and friendlier dogs around. And as much as I wish to take pride in his people skills, I certainly cannot overlook the fact that, like humans, animals too grow wiser and more mature with age. I was in school when Lucky, a beholder of precious paws, was brought home. Looking back, I can barely imagine my life before he came into the picture. People close to me know of my love for my furry companion, and consider him to be the best thing to have happened to me. Like most dogs, mine too,sees his entire world in his small family. Even the slightest change in the people and surroundings that constitute his little world gets him worked up.

Right from being my pet's indulgence partner to whisking him away for long car rides, I've explored a multitude of emotions with a four-legged angel. I often sit contemplating what is going on in my pooch's mind every time he gives me a reaction to something I've not expected in the least. I soon realize, thereafter, that he too has survived 9 years with me, and is ought to know much about my idiosyncrasies just the way I know about his. To commemorate this special companionship (read: to feel good about myself), I've enlisted a few things, mainly those that my dog shows certainty about in my case, or maybe that's what I would like to think.
Here are some very encouraging and positive and some need-to-work-hard-on things that my dog thinks about me:

- A savior, who will always come to his rescue and never let him down.
- Someone who addresses his parents as "mom" and "dad", but he is obviously the more preferred one.
- A girl obsessed with taking innumerable selfies with him, even while he's asleep.
- A strict disciplinarian, who frequently ensures that his staple diet is restricted to the boring, dog formula and dog biscuits.
- Someone who dares to play with other dogs and stroke them in front of him.
- Moody, when it comes to walking him, and gregarious, while pampering him with treats.
- His constant car-rider and long-drive partner.
- An annoying angel, who never misses a chance to cuddle with him and frequently distracts him into discipline, when he picks a fight with his feline troublemakers.
- I'm not all that bad after all. I compensate for giving him baths against his wishes by giving him a good blowout once in a while.
- An addicted scribbler who cannot part with her pen and black book, just the same way he finds it difficult to part with his fluffy porcupine.
- I have quite a way of tackling his frequent food fuss and manage to make him down everything in his bowl in just a matter of seconds.
- Someone who is nice to be with until he invites my wrath, when my voice escalates and goes "Luckyyyyy!"
- A companion who may go missing from home for a few days, once in a while, but is certain to return back home with increased fondness and affection for him.
- A silly lover who needs him more than he needs her.

I just realised how I can go on endlessly talking about my dog, while describing the hilarity of his antics. I've been told quite a few times in my life about how people that don't consume non-vegetarian fare miss out on a lot in life, and my immediate thought process drifts to how those that have never lived with dogs miss out on an opportunity of a lifetime to live with angels.

A Life Of Renewed Hope

“Smart, wise, independent, decisive and well-educated. I’m lucky to have daughters who are capable of being all of that,” said Harjeet Nehwal, every time someone from his family or village showed him sympathy for being a father of five daughters. “Poor father! He would have to empty his fortunes to get his five daughters married,” the people of Ladwa often exclaimed, when they met Mr Nehwal.

Located in the Indian state of Haryana, Ladwa is a village in the Hisar district. Four generations of the Nehwal family had lived in the two-storey bungalow that Mr Nehwal and his family, including his mother and the families of his two brothers lived in. Meera, who was the eldest daughter of Harjeet Nehwal and his wife, Rama, was a favorite with her parents. With a soft, kind and down-to-earth demeanour, she was very sensitive to the needs and rights of those that were helpless or lacked a voice in the society. The five Nehwal sisters got along like a house on fire. If the three older ones were mature and pacific, the youngest two were flamboyant and uninhibited. “You must stop picking up a fight with every other vendor. I’m sure you don't want to sell your parents’ shame and dignity,” Meera often told her youngest sister when they would venture out for shopping.

“Being a part of a family that has five daughters, we are well aware about how partial India is towards the men of the country, forget Ladwa. There was a time when the women of this village were not allowed to step out of their house, alone. Unmarried girls were frightened in the name of marriage. At once, child marriages had become rampant so much so that girls were stopped from going to school almost completely for the fear of ending up being more educated than her future husband. I have the example of my own mother who was married off at the age of fifteen by her parents, who believed that it wasn't safe to keep a daughter unmarried once she hits puberty. Fortunately, I have a father who has stood up for his daughters’ rights and tried to inculcate a sense a freedom and independence, which is very integral to the dignity of a woman. And this has got a lot to do with his education among other factors. Today, our women have made significant progress. A lot of women have also tried to raise their voice against the practice of dowry. They have rejected proposals from men, altogether, who have asked for it. The generation of women that is educated is well aware of the repercussions of this social practice. And the only way we can continue to further our fight for women’s equality is by empowering ourselves through education. Our fight is against patriarchy, and don't forget that women are equally responsible for its existence,” Meera said, while addressing a gathering of two-fifty-odd women at an event for women’s empowermen..

A senior railway official, Harjeet Nehwal always kept himself busy during his free time. One of the things that was closest to his heart was teaching the kids who had no access to education. With the support from a few of his colleagues and friends, he had founded a school, which had children of the peons at his workplace, poor farmers and widows apart from orphaned children. The school, which had close to one-hundred students enrolled in it, was run with the help of local teachers. Mr Harjeet and some of his friends made a contribution to the annual funds of the school to run it efficiently. Meera, who played an active role in the development of the school often had long conversations with her father about the future of the school and how they could come up with different ways to get more children, who were out of school, to study. The two were often immersed in conversations ranging from disparity between genders and Meera’s thoughts on marriage to choosing the right life partners for each of the five daughters of Mr Harjeet Nehwal. “I’m glad I have been able to contribute to the society in my own little way with this school. I hope you and your sisters will continue to nurture what enriches so many lives after my passing away,” Mr Nehwal would confide in Meera during these long conversations. 

The Nehwal household was always buzzing with guests. In villages and small towns and cities, guests and neighbours love to pour in without any prior intimation. Typically joint families, the number of people living in a house is almost three to four times more than that of the people living in nuclear families. The Nehwal household was one such family, where guests and friends always dropped in to say a quick hello before leaving for work or spent an afternoon chit-chatting with the ladies. The oldest member of the house, Mr Harjeet Nehwal’s mother, often hosted sessions of satsang in the afternoons, with 30-40 women in the house. The women were always served with snacks and refreshments. Indian families consider guests to be equal to gods. And a chance to serve guests or outsiders is happily grabbed. “Aren’t y'all planning to get Meera married? She is already 21,” guests, who came to the Nehwal household, often asked. Meera’s grandmother would end up turning her face around to ignore taunts or questions pertaining to Meera’s marriage. Some would also comment saying “Education seems to have given her the freedom to do what she wants to do without caring about her family’s reputation and stature in the society. Some of the well-educated girls have also gone against the wishes of their family and eloped with boys they were in love with. You never know what these girls can do.”

The Nehwal household was quite liberal as compared to the other orthodox families in the village. At a time when women were making progress in different areas of life, the elders in the family didn't want to restrict their daughters to the confines of their house. The women of their generation and of the previous generations had suffered a great deal of injustice and inequality, and they strongly felt that education was the only way out of that rut. For them, there was no better solution than education and the freedom to make a choice for themselves to put an end to the miseries of the women. Meera was always a bright student throughout her school and college life. Witnessing her talent and inclination towards studies, her parents willingly sent her to one of the more reputed colleges in Lucknow after she finished schooling. It was after she moved to Lucknow that she realized that she was one of the very few women from Ladwa who had got an opportunity to pursue higher studies. 

As bright, passionate and dedicated as Meera was when it came to academics, she could easily impress people with her grace and charm. With an attitude that did not allow her to compromise on her beliefs and values, her goal in life was clear - to uplift the status of women through education. Sumit, who studied with Meera in Lucknow, was quite fascinated with the clarity Meera lived her life with. Sumit, unlike the typical males in his family, echoed quite the same thoughts as Meera. He and Meera were very active on the cultural scene in their college. They, among other participants, often waited back after college hours preparing for various events, as a result of which they interacted quite frequently with each other. They often ended up discussing their immediate plans after they graduated from college. If Meera’s plan was to go back to her village to support her father’s school, Sumit planned to study further, after which he wished to expand his father’s business in Lucknow. 

Once Meera came back to Ladwa, she wasted no time to assist her father in running his school. She ensured that all the girls in her village went to school by going to every house and convincing the parents of the girls to send their daughters to school. Over the three years that Meera spent in Lucknow, she had developed a close bond with Sumit. With both of them being on the same page on most of the things, their friendship had only grown stronger through the years. At once, Sumit had shown interest in getting married to Meera. “I always thought I wouldn't ever find a girl who is a personification of wit, grace, elegance, diligence and determination and shows sensitivity towards every individual being. At times, I feel like a social outcast, because what I look for in a woman is very different from what most men look for in a woman. We have failed to look at women beyond their beauty and complexion. Her importance has been restricted at a superficial level. My own father married my mother because she came from a rich family and, according to him, there was nothing he could have asked for more than the beauty and fairness of his wife. I would never want my wife to be relegated to the position of most women in the Indian society. I find you to be the perfect representative of the woman I would wish to marry,” Sumit had once stated to Meera. Although Meera was quite hesitant about making her feelings about Sumit vocal, she liked being in his company and shared most of the secrets of her life with him. “I don't want to get distracted at this point. I don't want to disappoint my parents with any love relationship. I think we should give some time to each other to sort out our priorities,” she had told Summit.

It had been a year since Meera had returned home to Ladwa. Harjeet Nehwal was happy to see Meera almost taking over the reins of running the school from him. He could now proudly call his daughter all of what he had hoped for - smart, wise, independent, decisive and well-educated. One day, after Meera returned from the school, she was pleasantly surprised with a call from Sumit. It had been a long time since the two of them had spoken to each other. “Guess what, I’m coming to Ladwa next week. I’m going to be in Delhi for four days, following which I shall be coming to Ladwa for a day,” Sumit exclaimed. Meera reciprocated the excitement and said, “This is quite a surprise. I hope it isn't a joke. You will finally get to see Ladwa; the village whose stories I have harassed you with during our time in college. I shall be waiting for you.” 

Sumit arrived at the Nehwal household early in the morning. Harieet Nehwal  was very happy to welcome Sumit. “Hello, beta. I have heard a lot about you from Meera. She told us how you helped her with your constant company during her three years in Lucknow. I’m sure you must be tired from all the traveling you've done over the last one week. Please consider this your own house, and feel free to ask for anything you need,” he said to Sumit. Meera’s family was equally hospitable and left no stone unturned to make him feel at home. Meera took him to the school she was running and spoke about how she planned to make it bigger. The two couldn't stop talking about old times. It seemed as if they wanted to freeze in the moment and just go on talking. “Your priorities better seem sorted, now,” Sumit jokingly exclaimed. Sporting a puzzled look on Meera’s face, Sumit stated, “Do you remember saying that we must give time to each other to sort out our priorities. You and I are doing reasonably well, now. Its time we figured out if we wish to take this friendship to another level. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. I can only imagine my future with you. And I promise to always support you in all your endeavours. Would you marry me?” With a blushing face and a tinge of coyness, Meera said, “I hope this wasn't a joke.”

The morning of the next day saw Meera officially declaring her interest in getting married to Sumit to her family. The liberal-minded and supportive family that the Nehwal household was, they showed no reluctance towards Meera’s choice. Harjeet Nehwal, like always, showed unwavering faith in Meera’s decision and assured her of making a good choice with Sumit. Soon thereafter, the Nehwal household was buzzing with excitement and started preparing for their wedding. Sumit’s parents were called to Ladwa, following which they performed a ring ceremony. It was the first time in Meera and Sumit’s families that a wedding was taking place without any exchange of dowry. Meera’s cousins and neighbours, who had once subjected Harjeet Nehwal and his wife for being ill-fated with five daughters, now congratulated the proud father, who had raised a gem. And while Sumit and Meera couldn't stop smiling at all the guests, that evening saw the village of Ladwa make  huge progress. “I don't want your guests to pity me for not getting anything. They must know that you're quite a handful,” Sumit said to Meera with a big grin on his face. 

A Walk Through Life

A book was carelessly left open 
To a page flaunting senseless scribbles.
Of writing name and roll number
A phase of blissful ignorance came through.


Amidst chirpy giggles and petty thrills
A hit by puberty forced itself through.
By the time I could grasp a change
Adulthood had already made its way through.


The night was long and dark
In the bed filled with rose petals and raw attraction.
Two locked hearts and untamed souls
Filled a diary with youthful idiosyncrasies.


In the race to achieving success
The time was up to show children their way.
Life had come a full circle
When the receding hairline decided to make way.


When heydays became a distant memory
A sense of satisfaction grew stronger.
A walking stick that was once laughed upon
Now became a companion for life.

Love Never Hurt

The summers I spent in Delhi, while growing up, bring back a lot of childhood memories. The long, hot days of summer meant that there was an endless supply of popsicles and ice-cream. Summer vacations in school meant that the mothers would have a hard time stopping their brats from going out to play in the burning-hot sun. The kids that we were, my brother and I mostly succeeded in sneaking out of the house when our mother was out of sight. Once out of the house, the afternoon would be spent cycling in the by lanes of Vasant Vihar. We would often call our neighborhood friends to join us for cycling or for a game of lagori or stop-and-party. As drenched in sweat and dirt as we could be, once home, the warning of facing our father’s ire was enough to scare us into discipline, while having to give a promise of staying indoors during the afternoon.

 
Growing up, Verma uncle, who was my father’s close friend, and his wife, Geet ma, came home very frequently. Geet ma was a favourite with all the kids who knew her. The kids fondly referred to her as Geet ma because she doted on every child like her own. Every time she would come home, she would heap me and my brother with the best kinds of chocolates. She regularly had NRI guests, at her place, who would gift her an assortment of international chocolates. My mother would often express her disappointment to her when she would spoil us with goodies. And the sweetheart that Geet ma was, she would tell my mother that kids were meant to be pampered. I often thought about what it would be like to have her as my mother. Although Verma uncle and Geet ma had a son, they had a special liking for daughters. Geet ma would often tell my mother, “The day Roshan gets married, I shall celebrate the homecoming of a daughter I never had.” Roshan was Geet ma’s son, who was one year older than me. Roshan and I went to the same school, but we never interacted much with each other back then. Roshan was a very shy kid, who preferred to stay in the company of his books. My family and I often visited the Verma household, which was just a stone’s throw away from our house, and every time I went there, Roshan used to be sitting in one corner of the drawing room and observing the ongoings, quietly. Verma uncle would often tease Roshan for being a pussy cat. “How will you woo a girl if you don't speak?” he would say, while asking him to be more social and outgoing. And I, like a curious onlooker, thoroughly enjoyed watching the father-son histrionics.

 
The onset of monsoons marked the beginning of a new academic year. Like most children, I would always get jitters thinking about who my teachers and classmates would be. Buying a new bag, school uniform, and textbooks, along with having to go through the rigmarole of waking up at 6:00 a.m. would rightly set the tone for the rest of the year. And like every year, the potholes never stopped reminding us of their presence. I laugh, to this day, when I think about how I used to wake up each morning praying to be told that the schools were closed due to heavy rains in the city. Geet ma always made it a point to invite us to her place for chai and pakoda during the rains. She would often send her driver with hot pakodas for me and Roshan during break time in school. Those were some rare times that Roshan and I interacted. He would come running to my class and ask my friends to tell me to come near the library. My friends would come up to me and tell “Your birdie, or should we say your lover, has asked you to meet him near the library. He says he wants to meet you right away.” I would get annoyed when my friends said this and chide them for linking us up. “His family and my family are friends. And that’s the only way I know him. You girls should stop thinking too much,” I would say in a fit of rage.

 
Daily, after coming back from school, I would go to my balcony and sip on a hot cup of coffee. I had always enjoyed the view of the city from my balcony. The cool, evening breeze combined with the refreshing smell of coffee was an instant energy booster. At times, my mother insisted on helping her out with the household chores. In Punjabi households, nothing can take the place of food. And if one dares to diet, then he/she becomes a social outcast. As a little child, if I made a fuss about eating, I would be told that animals loved eating the bones of skinny people, and if one did not look healthy, then there were chances that he/she would be eaten up by the animals. By the age of fourteen, I was able to cook quite a few things. I could also make Hyderabadi biryani with some help from my mother. I would, later, pack some of it and take it to school the next morning.

 
It was a Wednesday, and all the students were waiting for the history class to get over before the school break began. I was carrying Hyderabadi biryani in my tiffin, which I had prepared the previous night. I was getting all fidgety with my belongings during the lecture. Roshan and I had become good friends over the previous few months, and we had begun meeting quite regularly during the school break. Although my friends continued teasing me with him, I had maintained that there was nothing other than friendship between us. We had also decided to go home together since we lived very close by. As soon as the bell went, I took out my tiffin box and went to his classroom. Although it was usually me who spoke most of the times, he did speak once in a while.

 
“I don’t know why I’m like this. A lot of people think I’m happy being this way, but the truth is that I just cannot get myself to express my feelings. I think ten times before I say something,” Roshan suddenly exclaimed, while we were walking back home. I was stunned for a moment, wondering if I had said something inappropriate to evoke such a reaction. “Don’t worry, you haven't said anything wrong. It’s just that I’m fed up of myself for being so timid and introverted, and this is the way I end up venting out my frustration. There have been times when my friends have taken advantage by putting the blame for their wrong-doings on me,” he continued. It was the first time I saw Roshan baring his heart to me. I could see anger in his eyes. I felt a strong urge to extend emotional support to him and tell him that I found him to be perfect the way he was, but I held myself back thinking that it was too early for me to say something like that.

 
The monsoons in Delhi continued to cast their spell. I disliked stepping out of my house during the rains apart from the time that I went to school. Walking on muddy streets, which had puddles in every corner, never failed to shock me. My evenings would be spent reading books when I could not go out to cycle. It had been a few days since I last met Roshan. He had not been attending school for more than ten days. I tried asking my mother if she had spoken to Geet ma or knew of Roshan’s whereabouts, but to no avail. Once in a while, I met my neighbourhood friends in the evenings, and we would end up talking about our respective lives and activities, but, every now and then, I kept getting distracted thinking about where Roshan was. One evening I just decided that I would to go to his class during the school break and ask his friends where Roshan was.

 
The next day I woke up feeling a twitch in my eyes. My hands were numb and my heart was thumping. The light peeking into my room through every corner of the window that was uncovered. As much as I wanted to pull the blanket over my head and close my eyes till the specks of light made way for darkness, I could no longer keep myself in the dark about Roshan's whereabouts.

 
The city was dry as ever without rains. I reached my school trying to catch my breath. It was half past seven and I was already late for the school prayer. On my way to my class, I saw two of Roshan's classmates rush towards their class. My eyes keep stretching far to hoping to see Roshan standing outside his class flashing his trademark grin, but that remained a mere hope. I decided I would go to his class during the break hour.

The first half went by in a blur. I was barely able to get my thoughts to focus on what was going on in class. "Just one more class to go," I uttered with a sigh of relief, at the end of our English class. It was the sixth time I had glanced at my watch in a span of thirty minutes. I just wanted the next thirty minutes to somehow pass, before I could make my way to Roshan's class. Parina, who had been my best friend in school since we Class 1, didn't look very pleased. "What is really up with you? You have been distracted all this while. Are you in a hurry," she asked frantically. I gave a slight nod signifying I was just fine, before looking away to greet Mr Rao, our Social Science instructor. In our eight years of friendship, this was the quietest Parina and I had ever been with each other. Before the class ended, it was announced that everyone had to submit their completed Physics journal by the end of the last lecture in the lab. Everyone in my class went in a state of panic, and there were hushed whispers about how the school could give such a short deadline. Many decided to finish writing their journals as quickly as possible, during the break. I was left with two topics, but I couldn't care about it until I knew where Roshan was.

 
I soon rushed towards Roshan’s class. My heart started fluttering every time I thought through the possible reasons why he had been absent. I saw some of Roshan’s friends sitting in the class. I walked up to Krish, one of his close friends, and asked him about Roshan. One of boys sitting with his friend looked a little upset when he heard my question. Before I could make any inferences with his expression, Krish said that Roshan’s mother had met with a fatal accident a few days ago, in which she lost her life. Roshan, who was with his mother when they were walking down a street, saw his mother being hit by a car in full force. For a moment, I could not grasp what had been said by his friend. “Huh! This cannot be true. What are you even saying? I just met his mother the other day when she invited me to her house for chai and pakoda. You must have mistaken her for someone else. I’m talking about Roshan, the tall and fair boy who sits on the second bench,” I said in a state of despair. “Yes, even I’m talking about Roshan. It seems that watching the accident take place in front of his eyes left a deep impact on his mind. He is totally shocked and shattered. He and his father also tried to flow in some doctors from London but, by then, aunty had lost all chances of surviving,” his friend stated. I froze in my position. I kept staring at him, while telling myself “How I wish I could turn back the clock and bring the wheels of time to a stop.” All I could feel within me, at that time, was guilt and remorse. I felt bad and sorry for not having mustered up the courage to tell Roshan that I found him perfect, and that I loved him the way he was. I felt the need to tell him all the possible things I had felt for him over the past few weeks. I wanted him to know that it was me who faced the inability to express my feelings ,for I didn't make my love known to him. I wish I had told everyone in my class that he was not just someone I knew because of our families. I just wanted him to know that I was there for him. Despite the raging and emotions I could experience, there was little I could do at the time. My hands were numb and, without giving any more reactioins, I took a step back and turned around, before Krish asked me, “But how do you know Roshan?” This time, as I surrendered to the bleak possibility of our happy future together, I, once again, replied, “We know each through our families.”