Life is easy kya karein

This morning a friend shared her relationship with money over the phone. I was surprised at the many layers and dimensions to it. I want to explore this for myself too. So first time I have my topic and I have to write on it or about it. Usually I go the other way round. I write first and give a suitable title later. Money is not something I talked much about. Born into a rich family, my Dad being a self made man. I always had money for all that I wanted or needed. There were no lack of money conversations in the house. In school, I did not talk money with this fear that I wont be accepted if I talk too much about what I do or where we go or what we buy. At home sunday dinners were always to the best restaurant in town. I remember a school friend asking" Tum Log har sunday skylark mein khaana khaate ho?" Skylark being the best hotel in town. I didnt know whether to say yes or no. The friendship was important and I did not want to offend her in any way or rather what I thought...

I am just not open to people telling me what to do. I always think I am so right. I am not too sure about being open to any kind of criticism. The fear is that criticism is bad. If someone criticises you, then you are not good enough. The fear came from school days. Every word the teacher uttered was the ultimate and if it was harsh, then it was etched in the memory for ever. I would be completely de moralised for days, of course I didnt know what it meant at that time. There was so much fear that I can feel goose bumps even now. In school the early years, I craved for acknowledgement from my teachers. It never came. I am sure I would not have forgotten it if it had come. Later around fifth sixth standard, I became very good in studies. Like from a rank of 32 to 27 to 8 to 5 is how I moved up.So I was a bit acknowledged but it was always reluctant praise. Like this girl is not so good in studies, may be her marks are a fluke. Being the eldest in the family of six children, the pressur...

My first real birthday party happenned when I was 23 i think. we celebrated earlier when i was 7/8 . Dad had got a fairy land cake for me from Calcutta and a car for my brother Parin. I was in a royal blue silk frock, all scrubbed and cleaned for the event. Lot of children and relatives invited and room full of people.later all the black and white memories. So this birthday at 23 was funny. we had moved into a palace like house called Ganeshalay. It was truly amazing. We had not given a house warming party for some time. I had moved back home after 7 years in mumbai. all So we combined it but called it my birthday party. I was thrilled to bits. Super excited. House was clean and shining. Terrace was washed and lit up. All lights lit up. Caterers arrived. I dressed in a saree. People started flocking in on time or rather early. They wanted to come early and spend time with my Gran before the party began. I got two tables full of gifts. Super exciting. One guy my whole building adored ...

What if just for today I want to be myself? What if just for for a day I dont want meet my family and friends? What if just for today I dont want to drop my kids for class ? What if just for today I want to ignore all I know? What if just for today I dont want to remove clthes from the drying line? What if just for today I want things to bother me but not do a thing about it? What if just for today I want to party alone? What if just for today I am not a part of anyone s life? What if just for today I live for myself? What if just for today I get all that I desire? What if just for today I dont want to welcome guests in my house? What if just for today I dont want to answer a call on my cell which starts with Are you out? What if just for today I dont want to return calls or smss? What if just for today I dont want to plan meals in the house? What if just for today I dont want to be called Aunty in the building? What if just for today I have no identity? What if just for today I am n...

People s love stories are so different. Each one has so many dimensions to it. I can listen to love stories for hours.I have only one criteria, The love stories just have to have a happy ending. I feel if you loved and did not get that person then your love was not truthful enough or strong . I cant understand all this societal pressure nonsense. We make the society and our mind makes those things we call society pressures. out here, i get to know so many things from the locals. The maids have a wealth of information on the rural love life. If you stay away from in laws in the village , then you have to pay money to the village panchayat. If you marry a guy from a different sub caste, then your parents have to pay money to the panchayat. The only joy is that they only ask for money and there are no so called honour killings. Some of them just enjoy love stories with a tragic end. Like i loved her and lost her. Or my parents/ his parents wont listen. Or i realised how much i loved her ...

Love is when children come back from school due to fake cyclone warning. Love is smiling the whole day without sharing the reason with anyone. Love is smiling without a reason. Love is missing someone. Love is writing an ambigous blog. Love is getting subtle and charming. Love is wondering who you are writing for. Love is doing full vasooli of the internet. Love is not dialling a number when you are dying to. Love is not talking when actually that is the only thing you want. Love is inviting and he refusing. Love is him asking you to wait. Love is being impatient. Love is when you want to share all your college fantasies and stop as it is not appropriate. Love is being in appropriate for a change. Love is checking out all guys you had hots for on FB. Love is when your friends warn you not to be naughty. Love is watching the day break. Love is when he says when he saw you first you were in a cream saree with green border . Love is not knowing which school or college he went to. Love is ...