Through this short story, I’ve tried to depict the life of a typical Indian working Mother and how she gets on with her busy day. This time, I’ve used a different style of writing- like the one I noticed while reading books written by authors whose writings portray Indian culture. You will find code mixing, that is the use of words in a different language to enhance the content. Read on and tell me what you feel about it!
She was woken up by the much too familiar call of the alarm clock. 6 am. Long before I woke up. The start of another day. How she craved to roll over for another snooze! Reminding herself that there were still four days left for the weekend, she got up. She smiled as she recalled how she had dozed off the moment her head had hit the pillow the previous night. Fresh and having had a good night’s sleep, she was charged up again.
Getting up, she did her usual morning chores, collected the milk and the newspaper and turned on the gas to make some chaha. As the milk boiled over the flame, she strolled out into the gallery to examine her garden, something that she enjoyed thoroughly. That was when I trudged sleepily into the gallery. As I looked at her, I saw that her face reflected the tenderness of her heart as she gently caressed the blooming roses.
Her cup of chaha marked the start of her day. She then bustled about in the kitchen chopping veggies and setting up things. She was busy making breakfast when she realized that it was 8 am already. A soft groan escaped her as she dashed about the house, looking for her headphones and mobile. Then she logged in to Zoom and joined the meeting she was supposed to attend.
No doubt she was an excellent multi tasker and as the veggies boiled in the kadhai, I heard her telling her team about some new project they had received recently.
Breakfast was a quick thing for her with not much time at hand. By 10 am, she had completed her chores, made a delicious meal, had finished her bath and was dressed up in an ethnic cotton kurti, ready for work.
‘The traffic seems as bad as yesterday,’ she thought as she steered her car on the road. But as she turned on the radio, all her thoughts vanished as she began enjoying the music on her favourite Radio Mirchi station.
At work, it was a different story. Her day was lined up with meetings, client presentations, sync ups, and reports. She literally bolted down her lunch and didn’t even stop to think about how her new masala had enhanced the flavour of the bhaji she had cooked. As the day drew to a close, she packed her laptop and headed home. Trying to be patient with the evening traffic, she thought longingly of the cup of chaha that awaited her.
Once she was home, she microwaved her chaha to make it piping hot, just the way she liked. And grabbing her favourite Parle G biscuit, settled herself in an armchair in the gallery. When I returned home, I saw her sitting in the gallery.
She was so content and was blissfully enjoying her chaha. Birds twittered and the sun painted the sky with its crimson hues. This was the rare time she spent with herself and all of us made sure that she wasnt disturbed then. As I watched her, I wondered when I would be able to do so many things without getting tired. I wondered how come she never complained and worked really hard every single day. I recalled how she enjoyed doing little tasks and found immense happiness in small mundane things . ‘Maybe that is her fuel,’ I thought.
They say that queens live in palaces and superwomen are found only in movies. They also say that role models are always big, famous people. Truth be told, I can’t disagree more.
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings, it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility..
-William Wordsworth
Hope..the fuel that propels each soul..
Heaven- A place that can be found if you know where to look..
Heaven..
Beyond all misery and confusion, There lies a serene place.. Known to us..yet unknown ‘Heaven’ we call it.. Many crave for it, others yearn for it Some actually search for it throughout their lives Everyone looks up to it.. To a place that is the impeccable epitome of solitude.. But just for once, try looking for this place.. Neither in the ground, nor in the clouds Once you look around you, you’ll realise.. That you were searching for something you already possess.. Heaven..it is there everywhere.. In the pure rays of the morning sun, In the rustling of leaves, in the chirping of birds.. In a tiny drop of morning dew, In the smile of a child, In a soul that cares.. In a hand that helps.. It is there in a breath of fresh air.. Heaven is there even in a tiny seedling that fights its way through the soil.. In the smell of the mud after the first rains.. In the pages of a book.. In the comfort of your home.. In the star filled sky.. Heaven is there..waiting for you to discover it But you just need to look at it with the right eye.. And once you are struck by the gravity of the heaven that you have found.. You will no doubt have to accept That.. Heaven lives where a heart is found..
-Mugdha Deshpande
The light that can never fade..
That dark cloud
This is a metaphorical poem which compares problems faced by us to a dark stormy cloud..
A problem has always got something to teach you..
When the dark cloud, full of gloom overpowers you,
And you begin to feel sepulchral,
When this cloud bursts and pours its rain,
You feel as if you are not special.And then you start to question why
You are the epicentre of this rain,
You begin to feel as if there's some sin you've done,
Hence you are subjected to this pain.
Then further this rain grows vociferous,
And manifests into a storm,Yet you ought to keep going,
The weather will surely transform.
Alone as you might be,
Your faithful umbrella lost,
It is you who has to finally
Cross the hail and frost..
Just follow the path of your heart,
With a golden hope in mind,
That the storm will surely quieten,
It would be left behind.
Then once you've crossed this odyssey,
And you look at it from the start to the end,You will no doubt have to accept,
That the 'dark cloud' was your friend..
-Mugdha Deshpande
The night sky
The night is a beautiful and mystical phenomenon on Earth. It holds the known and the unknown..
Looking at the night sky is just like delving deep into a mysterious and magical world..
The night sky is a stage,
A colossal stage that grows new with age..
Here there are stars of every shade,
Of diamond, ruby, emerald and jade.At times a satellite glides on this curtain,
Occasionally a meteor shower is certain
Sometimes a comet adorns the sky,
It hypnotizes you and makes you sigh..Then suddenly rises the moon,
Striking a syllable- a happy tune
The moon makes the night devoid of fright,
It offers a spectacle- a dazzling sight.
The sky is a classroom of teachers and students,
Where knowledge floats precise and prudent.
Here, the teachers than the students are more,
They make their learners fly and soar..But if Lady Luck turns her back on us,
The show is gone how much you fuss,
Gone are the planets and the planets and twinkling stars,
The vision is obscured by cloudy bars.
This shiny diadem of innumerable stars,
Washes away all turmoil and scars,
In the past does it help to delve,
The sky is a beauty, a mystery in itself.
-Mugdha Deshpande
Still I remain..
No one likes jealous people..but by default they are the part and parcel of each one’s life. Face them and learn from them..
You may treat me as you please,
Either with hatred or with love,
But one thing is for sure..
I will remain as I am.
You may be jealous or;
You may even celebrate when I am sad,
You may laugh at my failures,
But, I will remain as I am.
You may despise me to the core,
You may criticize me without any reason,
You may discourage me each time I want to soar,
And yet I will remain as I am..
If you think that I will give up
And ultimately get frustrated
Then you are sadly mistaken;
'Cause I will remain as I am.
Even if you detest me,
I will never abhor you.
Instead I will consider you
As someone who gives me the chance to improve.
I will look at you from a different perspective,
A unique and positive view,
Just because you left your place,
I will not leave mine to fix you,
Because-
I will remain as I am..
-Mugdha Deshpande
Eyes
Eyes are the biggest mirrors of anyone and everyone. They are beautiful in every form and every emotion..
The biggest mirror of your life, That tells the truth and never lies, Is nothing but your unique eye, Which never changes even if time passes by. Blue, black, brown or grey, They reflect everything you want to say. Eyes epitomize all your emotions They give way to your inner aspirations. Some have a comforting warmth and glow, Some appear deep but are completely hollow. Some are transparent and crystal clear, Some look scared with traces of fear. Some are decorated with an uncanny twinkle, Some are kind with a generous sprinkle. With determination some eyes are lit, While some change feelings bit by bit.Some are inquisitive wanting to know more, Some give you courage to fly and soar. As against that, some are totally rude, While some change forms depending on their mood. Some are piercing and make you go cold, While some are straight forward, having a firm hold. Such are the eyes, beautiful and lovely, They reflect your thoughts, slowly but surely. -Mugdha Deshpande
Caged
To all the people who are feeling caged due to the present situation of Covid-19 outbreak.
#Lockdown #StayHomeStaySafe
Today evening as I sat in my window, Watching the empty streets, listening to the sound of silence; I suddenly heard a merry voice- “Hey there! Feeling caged?” Startled, I turned to the voice and saw a parrot, calling happily. I sighed happily, “ Yes perhaps, it has changed a lot. My fantasies have met dead ends, my dreams of enjoyment have shattered, and here I am, trapped in my own cage.” The parrot smiled- it literally did- and said: “When you humans cage us not in our but in your strange homes, We feel helpless, desperate and yet, we can do nothing.. A mere puppet of your hands, unable to spread our wings, unable to fly.. When freedom turns its back on us, Life becomes a confinement.” “Today, when I see you,” I said, “Spreading your wings more freely than usual, the setting sun cradling you in its arms, the colourful evening sky, encouraging you to dance.. I am envious of you dear small bird, Pray, tell me how can I be one of you?” Laughing, the small bird said, “It has indeed changed a lot, you enjoyed your life now we are enjoying ours. This time I see you from the other side of the cage, You are trapped instead of me, and now for once, you are feeling our pain.. But in these trying times, you should not lose heart, Do not keep crying, make the best of the hour.. For after every stormy night, there is a bright sunny day, For after every dark tunnel, there is an opening coming your way..” With this, the parrot took off, I marveled his stunning flight, His message struck a chord with me And I resolved that I would follow it with all my might.. -Mugdha Deshpande
A Daughter’s Day
There is a beautiful bond between a mother and a daughter. This one is a poem symbolising this selfless relation of unconditional love.
She came home from a dreary day, So tired was she, she couldn’t even say, Her mind was cluttered with submissions and deadlines Even to breathe peacefully, she had no time And yet… and yet her daughter came fuming into the room Apparently she was crying from noon. “Mom!”, Daughter burst out when she saw her, “What day is it today, don’t you remember? I’m sure that you know it’s daughter’s day; And still you have nothing to say?”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry, I totally forgot, I had so much work, that I got caught.” “Now!” demanded Daughter, “I want a cake, I just want it whatever it takes!” “Dear, I’m afraid, I can’t tonight, Next time I’ll try with all my might.”
Daughter raged and shouted, roared and stormed, Telling her Mother how much she had wronged. Mom listened to her with a sad face, Unhappy that things weren’t abiding her pace.
Then later that night, Mom gave her a wooden case, Daughter took it, and opened it with a sulky face. Inside was written a curly message On a yellow parchment that was old with age.
Daughter read it and let out a sigh, And before any warning, she began to cry.. For the message was :
“Dear, today I had nothing different to say, Because for me everyday is a Daughter’s day. My life is not a fairy tale, But you are my Princess, Since you never fail to make me happy and impressed.”
-Mugdha Deshpande
From my window..
Nature is the ultimate source of bliss and tranquility. It provides us with hope in trying times. Even the smallest creations of nature can etch a lasting impact on our mind..
I sat dozing one sunny noon,Thinking that it’d be evening soon,I was tired and dreary to the core,The sultry weather made me go sore.Suddenly I looked out of the window-A breeze was floating steady and slow.It played on my cheeks and tickled my toes,It whistled in my ear and caressed my nose.I rushed hurriedly to the window,To be a spectator to nature’s show.Fell away instantly all my stupor,With bated breath I waited for the shower.Tore open the skies and cascaded down the rain,Washing away all turmoil and pain.The cool wind glided past me,A different world now I could see.I wondered how come nature taught,To smile and laugh when distraught.The dramatic rain lifted my mood,A wonderful day I began to prelude.All thanks to Mother Nature,The legendary comrade, guide and mentor.None can ever surpass this concoction,None can imitate this masterpiece creation.
-Mugdha Deshpande
A Golden glow..
Sunrise is an everyday phenomenon. But it is the most beautiful time of the day..Morning is that time of the day when you get all the inspiration you want to start a new day.
As he wakes up stretching his wide arms,He spreads his aura across meadows and farms,An uncanny twinkle decorates his eye,As birds let out a pleasant sigh.Acknowledgement as the trees offer,The fragrance blooms from flower to flower.His glowing shine percolates everywhere,As birds offer a peaceful air.Awake now is every being on earth,Ideas and thoughts now begin to take birth.In the presence of him unhappy is none,Such is the magic of the golden sun. -Mugdha Deshpande
Literary Worms 