I don’t have much experience, I must admit. Being brought up abroad, for me, relatives were just people whom you take away gifts for, during your visit to India, and in turn, you get to spend some time with them, to sit and laugh, and recall memories no one actually remembers. But what happens when you are done with earning all your dough abroad, and come back… And… one fine beautiful morning, relatives come calling… Welcome… Now, that’s one important thing you must do. Pick up them up at the airport or station or bus stand or your doorstep. Carry their luggage for them, irrespective of the fact whether they have goodies in store for you or not. And yes, when they enter your home, greet! Don’t ever forget to do that, you have to say, “Vaango, vaango” or perhaps “Aayeeye aayeeye”, even if you are actually thinking about that sweet time when they’ll be gone. Goodies... Like what they bring for you. Perhaps they actually picked it up from that rotten sale that was up to clear out stocks, ...
For I had not known then, what life had in store. I did hold on to the past, for a few months, and then it stopped to make sense, and the new overwhelming world took over. Now and then, the wind would blow, and faint memories would flood my eyes. I would just brush them off. I don’t really know if I made the decision to go by the flow, or whether it just happened. My life took a different course then on, it was exciting I must admit, and it brought me here, to where I am today. Sometimes I think, what if life hadn’t taken the course it took, what if I had held on to the past, what if I hadn’t forgotten the things I forced myself to forget. Would I still be here today? Would I have been happier? Would I have been disappointed? I crave to know. But then, I find the solace in the idea that someone else in this big world, is living that life that I gave up. I like to believe that all the permutations and combinations that result from the different choices we make in life, the different lif...
I don’t know what gripped me, but I crawled on my knees, across the expanse of my empty living room. It felt difficult, my knees already felt weak, and a rising pain shot through my leg. “What’s wrong with you?” I said to myself. “You could do this even as a kid!” Fortunately or otherwise, I had grown up. And little things like crawling and so many other things, weren’t practical anymore. I laughed at myself. “Grown up! Yeah, right!” Grown up meant having to make plans, and even worse, make them happen. Grown up meant to keep track of every cent you spent, and still be dumbfounded with the mystery of the missing five hundred bucks when the spreadsheets didn’t tally at the end of every month. Grown up meant being condemned for making the silliest of mistakes. Grown up meant having hurried lunches and dinners and breakfasts. Grown up meant forgetting birthdays, even your own, even worse, not believing in the celebration anymore. Grown up meant saying things you hardly meant, and hearing ...
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