That Pink LOVE-LETTER

                 Today was just another day. By 12 p.m. I had finished my daily chores,the maid left after doing her work, Husband to his office and kids to their schools. There was time for lunch so as usual I sat down to read some articles in a magazine.The curtains were obstructing the light, so I stood up to pull the curtains.Suddenly an envelope slid through the door.I thought maybe the postman would have slid it through, but I have never seen a pink envelope like that.

 





                I picked up the envelope.There was a shinny pink coloured letter in the pink envelope.I took it to the table and took my chair to read it.The card was addressed



    





                                                                       "For U, My Love"





I thought may be this is some prank of my husband.Today was not my B'day or Valentine's Day or Wedding Anniversary.The other thought dwelled in that, may be, it is not for me. Somebody has sent it to me by mistake. I placed it on the table.But there was something familiar that was tempting me to read it. I opened it  and read what was written in  it.The letter had a very strange but attractive handwriting, which also seemed somehow familiar but I thought hard who could have written this....









  "Dear Love,



You know how much I love you.The first time I saw you, I cried to be with you forever."









These two line made me shiver like a dry leaf in the autumn. I thought hard.Who is this person???

I cannot remember a person who had feelings like this for me (not in my knowledge, I should say)

I read again.











"For you, I have always thought. For you, I have lived Day and night. For you all the flowers and For you is  all my life.

You have been a part of my life and would always be. Even when you are married today, still I love you. And I swear if any being in the world brings tears in your eyes, I would not spare him/her even though if he is your husband. And all this because I love you and I am your First Love. Just stay happy and Promise Me You'll always be my Princess ,My Doll.





Now Open the door. I am standing outside, waiting for you to Come and Hug Me.





                                                    With Love

                                                                   

                                                                      Your First Love

                                                                       Your Dad"





"Your Dad!!!!" Suddenly the whole thing made me cry out of happiness. I ran to open the door. He was standing there and behind him was my husband winking at me. I just hugged my Dad and said," Yes,You ARE my first LOVE, Dad. And  I Love You."

Bathed in Pain

                    I was always envious of my mother. She was very beautiful. No one could stand her charm and grace, that is what I always thought.On that day, when she stood next to me at the bus stand for my school bus, it was the last time she came out with me.I remember clearly, I was 6 that time in class I. She was wearing a floral printed pink saree, when two men on their motorbike came near us.They had an unusual look of hatred and anger on their faces. Before we could understand, one of them took out a bottle with something in it. In a flash the whole solution was on my mamma's beautiful face.She pushed me behind like she knew what they threw and faced all what fate had  in store for her.





                   Those men raced their bikes and were nowhere to be seen.Only my mamma's screeches were what I heard then. People were just watching the show, but no one came forward to help her or me.I could not understand what was going on. Then somebody called an ambulance and that old uncle accompanied me to the hospital. He took my dad's number and informed him too. At the hospital, the doctors were just doing their job, no one was telling what happened. My father sent me to my granny's house . He thought I will not be able to bear my mamma's new face.







                    After 6 months I returned home.The time I lived with my granny was very tiring. I wanted to see my mother very badly. I insisted and finally got home. My mamma was in her room, the room was dark, the lights were off. My Dad didn't allow me to go in her room. He tried to explain me that my mamma was in depression and pain. Those people attacked her with acid which burned her face that I was so envious of. I assured that I won't make noise or disturb her. I went inside slowly, she was there, sitting and looking at a vase with roses. She noticed me and called aloud my name " Manjari, Manjari". It was  then I saw the horror. I saw her face was just like a shattered glass. Her eyes, they sunk inside and half of her face was with scars. I wasn't afraid but I was sad to see that my beautiful mamma was in so much pain and I left her alone when she needed me the most. I ran to her. She hugged me tight.Tight to her chest, I could hear her heartbeat.She was sobbing, calling out my name again and again."Oh Manjari, my child where were you? How are you? I missed you so much. I longed to see you. I thought may be I will die without seeing you. But look here are you. Just don't leave me , just don't."







                     I had no words I was crying and my tears were unstoppable when my Dad scolded me and brought me out of the room. I wasn't frightened of my mamma's face but I was angry why it happened with her. Why?I did not get my answers then, because I was a kid . But that incident hollowed me from inside. It was like I lost a jewel so precious. But I love her more than ever and I just want to say that people who did that to her were no more than ugly themselves.Whatever may be the reason for their hatred but it was not any solution for their unfulfilled intentions. Issues can be resolved but can they give back her lost face and her self confidence???

Har kisi ko.....

      हर किसी को खुद की तलाश है इस भीड़ में ,

       हम समझे हम ही चले हैं अकेले घर से।

   







जब देखा भीड़ में हम भी हैं शामिल,

तो लगा क्या अलग है मुझमें और इस भीड़ में।

मैं चला तो था मैं  बन के ,

मगर क्या रह पाऊंगा वही इस भीड़ में।

 





     ख़ुशी मिलेगी या जीत का सवाल होगा ,

     मेरे अपने पूछेंगे तो क्या हाल होगा।

     वो मासूमियत ,वो सच्चाई कहाँ छोड़ आया?

     आज ये झूठों का लिबास क्यों ओढ़  आया?







जब तक है जीना ,अब ये सोचना है,

वो सपने थे या ज़ंजीरें थी ज़मीर की।

अब तोड़ के उनको, जो आकाश में उड़ रहा हूँ मैं ,

कितना अच्छा होता इतना आज़ाद न हुआ होता मैं।







वो बचपन, वो माँ की  डाँट  कितनी प्यारी थी ,

वो बहन का चिढ़ना ,वो मेरा लड़ना कितना अच्छा था।

आज मासूमियत तो कहीं खो गयी है

हर ओर ठग से घुमते हैं।

            





                  कोई भरोसा नहीं करता किसी पे

और किसी पे मुझको भरोसा होता नहीं …।

The Lost Piece of Flesh and Blood......

Sometimes life acts very mercilessly. While on one hand it brings happiness and hope, it snatches away something that is priceless.........

Some things are unsaid and somethings do require words, words that have emotions, tears and one such sorrow is the pain of losing  piece of your own flesh and blood, your own child.







She was happy when she came to know she was expecting.The whole house was preparing for the birth of a child. It was too early, yet every person was seen  happilly busy with suggesting  names of the child, clothes and how he/she would crawl, walk, talk..........





She herself was seen sometimes gazing when the thought of her child came to her mind. She felt the shiver of joy and a sense of achieving something.She was going to be promoted in life from a wife , a daughter-in-law  to a mother, a complete woman. That's what a woman is " a mother."



Everything was fine to say, that she never missed vomitting. Everday took pills for the sake of morning  sickness and slept restless nights. Her condition deteriorated  with every time she ate something or felt like eating. She could not even drink water for whatever she consumed made her  restless than ever.The doctor who she consulted only gave her pills to slowdown  her uneasiness and  help her eating.While she  did whatever the doctor told her, she felt something was wrong.





Everybody in the house was tensed about her condition but nobody mentioned it, just trying to ease her restlessness.The first trimester was coming to an end and the time of her first sonography approached. But some days before that all of a sudden she had fever. High fever to say. The doctor prescribed her a medicine. She took the medicine and was relieved of the fever but with that something strange happened. Something that could not be explained, something that was scary.......



At night sometime about 2.30, she felt a shiver, she was in fever, she took the prescribed tablet. Her mother was sleeping beside her. But something made her feel restless. She was shivering now, not with fever but something took over her ears. She could not sleep. She changed her posture of sleeping. She was feeling something terrible is going to happen, something she can't understand but she knows. She tried to sleep again.





Suddenly, she could hear something, something like the sound of a woman reading aloud some mantras, she could not hearclearly what she was saying, but the sound was like that woman was doing something magical, something destructive.The sound of manjiras was what accompanied the mantra. She suddenly had a feeling of a tight twist inside her , like someone holding  her baby and pulling away. She screamed with pain, she tried hard but could not resist the pull.The mantras were louder than ever, so loud that she could not hear the sound of her own screams. Her heartbeat sounded louder than the sound of the manjiras  and that 30 minutes or so she felt there was a battle going on inside her.



Suddenly everything stopped, the loud mantras, the sound of the manjira stopped.And she felt that something inside her was travelling far far away from her.She stood near the bed in sweat and tears. The pain was still there but it was of the shattered hopes.She woke up her mother and told her about that. Her mother only said it was a bad dream but she knew for she was the witness of that battle.The battle where she lost, lost the piece of flesh and blood, her baby.

The Pickle Jar.....

                   

 Under the kitchen slab, rested the large pickle jar. The old lady of  the house was the sole manufacturer of the contents in it. Sometimes raw mangoes my mouth is already sour, sometimes lemons and sometimes I don't know what she added in that jar.

                         Every 2- 3 days she used to shake the jar and the sound  echoed till the roof with us eavesdropping upon the moving delicacy inside. Sometimes I stole a little piece only to find her standing and staring  with scorching eyes and lips opening to say,"Don't you dare break the jar. I love pickles  like anything."

     

                         I loved pickles yes, but not the oil in it for it would always burn my throat and  irritate my stomach. Every now and then I would swear that I won't have it again but the greed always emerged victorious, when I saw everyone enjoying it with delight.

     



                         Then one day, the old lady packed the tiffin box with chapattis and aloo gobi ki sabji to be sent to her husband who worked at a distance from home. The lady was enjoying her meal when the Tiffin waala bhaiya  arrived asking for the tiffin. She ordered her son  to put the tiffin in the bag and hand it over to the boy.While he did the job, the lady screamed my name to bring some pickles from the jar.

             



                         I searched here and there but all in vain .For my dismay cannot find the jar.I went upto her and said in a busy tone "Where is that bloody jar???I could not see it. May be I am blind". She said ,"Go again, you can find God if you want to." I returned to the kitchen, trying to find where the jar could have possibly gone may be for a stroll or may be to the bedroom to sleep, haahaa....





                        Under the slab,I was seeing when suddenly, something disturbed my minute inspection. It was something that was shinning on the slab near the gas stove. It was something I could not understand. I ran to the lady to tell her my findings. I asked her in a confused tone,"Do we have another set of tiffins  similar to the ones we send everyday??" She noded no .I said ,"Then what did the brother give to the tiffin waala.....???



                            

                        The burst of laughter availed her lips that I had never seen in my entire life as if I am 2000 years old haaaaaa...aaaaaaaa. Brother was arrested and questioned and he admitted his crime with a blush. Now the sentence he was awarded was To take the tiffin to the work place without BUTTS and WHATTS and WHY......





                         

                                                      



                       

             



 



       

The molested...

    Last week a friend of mine shared an incident on facebook that she had an awkward situation at hand. She went to a govt college where she was invited to speak on  international women's day. She had an interactive session where many questions were put forward by the girls of that college . One of them made a  deliberate point that". GIRLS THEMSELVES ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SEXUAL ASSAULTS.  " My friend explained  that this was not true but the girls gave many reasons like dressing sense, chit chatting on mobiles, etc. which was welcomed with an applause by other girls. I felt strange at first but yes this is what is happening with the mindset of girls today.







           When people keep on saying the same old things about how a girl should be brought up,  how she should behave ,bla bla bla.....we can realize we are breaking the self confidence of a girl just like the one in the above incident who herself believes that not the assaulter but the victim - the assaulted, is the culprit and the prime cause of the crime.  So  does that mean that a girl should be confined in the four walls of the house or should she take bodyguards with her wherever she goes and so on.....







          The incident reveals how constant bikkering can affect a girl's tender heart.Incidents of rape and molestation are not stopping, pressing the urgent need to take a new and effective approach.How these incidents can change a girl's life is worth considering.Laws, stricter laws must be put into action but their misuse should also be prevented.Life of a girl is affected not only in such incidents but its aftermath is also much critical....which prevent in reporting of such crimes.Crime against women is crime against humanity .

Humanity is not only male but also female.The existence of the one depends on the other.



         



          In India it is a common practice to  discriminate against a girl child from the beginning, that's her birth. When she is born even her own family sighs as if a burden has come on their shoulders. The birth of a son is celebrated like a festival while no festival for girls.Yes times have changed, so are the chains getting weaker but that's still not enough. But still much is needed to be done,not only by government but ourselves.And it is important we start from our own home giving importance to our own daughters,wives,daughter-in-laws......and levelling with their male counterparts.



Yes time has changed..........but attitudes have not...

When'll it change?

Can't say but it has to, it must....





       

the punished lover....hindi ....

              दर्द-ए बेवफाई

जिन्होंने झेला है दर्द बेवफाई का 

वो अक्सर मोहब्बत में पड़ते दिखते हैं। 

दर्द  लफ़्ज़ों में बयां वो  करते हैँ 

अश्क आँखों से बहाये जाते हैं। 

                                                                सरे ज़माने जिनकों अपना वो कहते थे 

                                                                आज वो ही पराए होते दिखते हैं 

खुद से रूठे हुए वो बैठे हैँ 

खुद से ख़फ़ा - ख़फ़ा से लगते हैं

  

                                                                 उन्हें  इल्म न था कि कैसे कब यह हो गया 

                                                                 जो झोका था  हवा का कब तूफ़ाँ बन गया 

ताश के पत्तों सी ज़िन्दगी रह गयी बनके 

हर लम्हा अब बिखरा -बिखरा सा लगता है 

                                                                  वक़्त गुज़रे भी तो क्या अब ???

वक़्त गुज़रे भी तो क्या अब 

जहां बैठे थे ,वहीं बैठे हैं अभी भी वो

थम ये जाएँ सांसें अब ये  मन्नत है

बंद हो जाये धड़कन तो मन्नत है



                                                                  जो हो जाये पूरी तो मानेगे

मानेंगे  कि खुदा होता है

ना हो पूरी तो मुर्दे से पड़े रहते हैं





                                                                   ज़िन्दगी सिसकियाँ  लेती लगती है

                                                                   मौत थमती नही सी लगती  है।

                                                                   साँसों की डोर वो जो खींचे तो

                                                                   तड़प सी महसूस जिस्म में  होती है





दीदार एक बार तो हो जाये

फिर चाहे मौत खुद को आ जाये

एक बार तो वो आ जाए

भर के बाहों में वो समझाए



                                                                    क्यों रुस्वा वो उनको कर गये थे

                                                                    क्यों बेवफा बन के  वो छुप गये  थे





उन्होंने झेला दर्द बेवफाई का

अब ज़िंदा ना मुर्दा वो लगते हैं

उन्हें याद कर के जीते हैं

उनका नाम ही जपते रहते हैं







                                                                     लोग पागल उनको कहते हैं

                                                                     मगर वो  आशिक खुद को कहते हैँ





सिफारिश ये रब से उनकी कर दे कोई

उस सिरफिरे को अंजामें मोहब्बत पहुंचा दे कोई

वो  कह गये है सबसे बस  इतना ही

ना मिले वो मुझे तो बात नही कोई

मौत ही मेहबूबा हो जाए अब मेरी





                                                                       आज भी गलियों में  वो उनकी

                                                                       राह  तकते हुए  से   दिखते हैँ

                                                                       उनसे मोहब्बत की देखो

                                                                       कैसी  सज़ा  वो खुद को देते हैं

हॅंस हॅंस के रोते रहते हैं

रो रो के हँसते रहते हैं



                                                       रो रो के हँसते रहते हैं। .............