It's my day!

My second birthday!

Birthdays have this nasty habit of coming back again and again. Every year without fail on the same date what do I see…Lo and Behold! it's my birthday yet again! Grown older by another year? More experience, more patience, more anger, more friends and acquaintances, more names to forget?

Dear me!

Memories flood my mind, and I don't know why but my most remembered birthday is my seventh one. I was in the boarding school at St. Anne's Convent at Marredpally in Secunderabad. My parents who were then posted at Nagarjunasagar Dam Project had come to be with me on my most important day.  They had brought a lovely cake baked by an American Lady Mrs. Miller, whose husband was an Expert  at the Dam Project. The cake was pink and had white bead decorations and was placed in a beautiful round tin box. After the celebration at the Refectory with my friends, I was taken out for the evening. My parents took me to a book store. It was near the Garden Restaurant at Secunderabad. It was a little book store, and I was allowed to peruse the books and select what I wanted. “My Book of Elves and Fairies” is the book that I chose. I had also got a golliwog as a gift. It was black in color and had curly hair.

Birthdays have been coming regularly since, but why is the memory of this one so deeply embedded is a question I ask. Could it be because I could buy something of my own choice, something no one helped me buy? My first independent decision?

My little grand children start counting the days to their next birthday, as soon as this one gets over. I also did that once upon a time. Time is now moving so fast that before I can start counting, the next birthday comes around in front of me and I am surprised!

My dad loved his birthday. Everyone spoke with him surely on that day. He would keep awake waiting for twelve midnight and then wait for the phones to ring. One after the other the grand children and his own children would wish him. After that he would sleep. I guess one has to keep that child within alive, only then can we enjoy this special day and also our own life. The anniversary of the special day when I arrived on earth to bring a smile on some faces is my day. It is my time, my world, my chance to make a difference in the lives of some people. It is a beautiful world, which was there when I wasn't there and will still remain when I am gone.

Thank you my family, friends, readers, well wishers. You all make a difference to my world. You make it worthwhile for me. You brighten up my life. You share your happiness, your concerns, and your interests with me. Thank you for being in my life.

I have lost a few on the way in this long journey.Those who have gone and are remembered today mean a lot to me.

My dad and I

I miss them, and will never forget them. My dad was my biggest hero, the man who never told a lie, who was extremely strict and also extremely kind hearted, who would shed tears when he heard a beautiful song. The man who sang a lullaby to all of us. The man who would keep awake telling me all about the constellations. My world today is what he showed me.

My two friends who have gone prematurely. I miss them. Without knowing it, they were my alter ego and the ones who always cheered me up. Thanks for making my life so beautiful, that even in your absence I can  feel your presence filling my mind and making my life worthwhile.

Thank you my entire family. Your love announced or silent is my biggest strength, even when I am angry with you or you are annoyed with me. I rely on you, trust you, take you for granted, and most of all love you.

I & my favorite ruins!

Many happy Returns of the DAY Varsha....you know you are worth it!

MY MANTRA FOR THE DAY!

I sometimes spend my time looking at photographs,

Some are on walls, some in albums, 

And some are memories etched on my mind.

These are memories of days gone by,

Of Lazy afternoons,

And rushed mornings, 

Languorous evenings,

And fixed bedtimes. 

Children's home work and assignments, 

Their long stories and their short attention spans.

Mornings were rushed with

Uniforms and bags, tiffins,  and the unwanted milk,

Some spilt and some deliberately thrown down the sink,

A hoodwinking son, a naughty daughter, 

Keeping a lookout for that monster of a mum!

Oh those luxurious days, which are now memories,

They brighten my days, and keep my afternoon reverie,

My evenings are spent waiting for the next day,

When I shall walk in my garden and find my way,

To the plaque on my wall which has this to say,

"As you go through life

Take time to smell the flowers".

This was a gift from my husband aeons ago,

 Who though miserly with words,

Has always chosen what he wants to say.

That plaque then just hung on the wall unread,

It's now become my mantra for the day!

A BEAUTIFUL PLACE

DULL

"But the Emperor has no clothes" said the little child,

Innocence, honesty, truth writ large on his face,

The child sees no evil, hears no evil, speaks no evil,

All that he  speaks is what he sees,

Not for him disguised truth,

Not for him sugar coated venom,

Not for him deceit, a facade or a mask,

His face is awash clean. 

It is brilliant as there is no color on his face,

The green of envy, the yellow of fear, the red of being ashamed, the blue of pressure,

Not white , not black, not pink or purple.

His skin is clear,

His eyes are fearless,

The brilliance of truth,

The radiance of honesty,

The trust that he bestows upon us,

We grown ups who mark our words,

Who mask our feelings,

Who look for opportunities to pull the rug from under someone's feet,

We have lost our innocence and live craftily.

Can we be honest with our own self?

Can we be pure, fearless, and seek that hidden brilliance,

So that we can also see the world as it is…a beautiful place!

VIBRANT