Sunday, 8 March 2015
Outdoors.
This'll be an unending thread, starting now!
The first house in front(neighbours)
Noida Sector 15 metro station
College conference room
ICH, Cannaught place
College canteen
Wednesday, 4 March 2015
Happy Founders Day!
(Written on 3rd March.)
So while I sit here and design a logo for an online vocational education program, six years ago my mom passed away 2 hours from now, it's 9'o clock at the moment. I'll call my dad in a while but before that, I hope it's okay to share something without soliciting pity.
I usually prefer not talking about this, never made or wrote anything about it before because it's still uncomfortable, but I feel like venting out a bit today. Anyone hardly opens up this blog anyway(I suck at advertising), so I guess it's okay to put it up here. This stays the same until the time I get famous and people are ready to pay for a printed copy of something on this blog.
Days like today(3rd March), her birthday(28th Jan) and the overrated mother's day(I don't even know) rattles me up every year. I stay confused an entire day doing stuff I usually do, trying to stay hidden from the all-seeing eye. This lasts only till my roommate snatches the phone from my hand and asks about the Oscar-winning script that I've been typing all along.
It was an eased out night when out of nowhere maa asked me to make her a bed on the floor to sleep. She said, she was feeling a bit uneasy and warm and thought that laying on the floor might be helpful, so I did. We were watching something on the telly when she pulls my dad's pajama, calling him out. He looked at her to find that she was foaming at her mouth. I rushed out of the house to get a 'doctor' that lived in the neighborhood. By the time I came back she was no more. The 'doctor' said she had a massive heart attack. We didn't even get an opportunity to take her to a hospital.
The whole neighborhood started coming over. I didn't know how to react. I looked at my dad, he was staring at me. Both of us clueless of what'll happen next. I've never seen my old man cry but that day, he did. The situation demanded me to do the same but I couldn't, I was unable to comprehend what was going on. Tears sure did come but not then, it came after a few days when I accepted the gravity of the situation and felt her absence. I cried like a bitch.
I remember she used to have a small basket with some masala and seasoning, which is used in the preparation of a betel leaf. Half a leaf after every meal of the day. My whole maternal side is the same, bit of a betel leaf enthusiast.
While traveling it didn't matter if one misses out on bringing the tickets but there'll sure be some betel leaves in one of the bags. Even as kids, us cousins knew it was a bad habit but we got free sauf, (mouri) every now and then as a treat and we never complained.
My grandmother and my aunt are still continuing the family trait, smuggling betel from one house to the other.
I called my dad, he didn't pick up, must have slept off.
He gets tired after an entire day's work. During the vacations when I'm at home and there's no sleep, I close my eyes and just lay on the bed. This is the time when I hear him get up at 4 o'clock sharp, take a bath and light up incense sticks to the 'GURU' my mom used to follow. My dad personally takes more heed to logic than religion, but I think he wants the day to start with the same ambiance as it used to, however, it was never so early, to be honest, cook for the day, eat his breakfast and drive off to his office in Gamahria. He never mentions it, but yes getting over his wife's untimely demise sure was hard on him, more than anyone else because now he had to take care of a lazy child single handed too. It was his life that took the maximum amount of turn. It's tough man! the life of a single parent sure is tough. I owe him a lot and I've got no clue if I'd be able to do all that he does, with such devotion.
At home, I usually get up at 10, after he's gone. I get up to a silent room which remains the same until he returns from work. We have the junk food(samosa n stuff) that he brings for an evening, watch the telly, talk for a while, have our dinner and go to sleep. The evening schedule hasn't changed a lot, we are just running short of one more team member who used to participate in the same.
Moving out was helpful, now my dad has a little less to worry about me and for me the break from a monotonous room was healthy. The silence of the room still remains somewhere inside. A place I visit at times when I need to.
I won't say I've forgotten her voice, I'd still recognize her if I hear it right now from some corner. She had a very distinct laugh and I'd pay anything to hear it back again...but wait, what am I doing here. I have a logo to finish and you have to go visit the jubilee park.
Happy founders day, Jamshedpur!
So while I sit here and design a logo for an online vocational education program, six years ago my mom passed away 2 hours from now, it's 9'o clock at the moment. I'll call my dad in a while but before that, I hope it's okay to share something without soliciting pity.
I usually prefer not talking about this, never made or wrote anything about it before because it's still uncomfortable, but I feel like venting out a bit today. Anyone hardly opens up this blog anyway(I suck at advertising), so I guess it's okay to put it up here. This stays the same until the time I get famous and people are ready to pay for a printed copy of something on this blog.
Days like today(3rd March), her birthday(28th Jan) and the overrated mother's day(I don't even know) rattles me up every year. I stay confused an entire day doing stuff I usually do, trying to stay hidden from the all-seeing eye. This lasts only till my roommate snatches the phone from my hand and asks about the Oscar-winning script that I've been typing all along.
It was an eased out night when out of nowhere maa asked me to make her a bed on the floor to sleep. She said, she was feeling a bit uneasy and warm and thought that laying on the floor might be helpful, so I did. We were watching something on the telly when she pulls my dad's pajama, calling him out. He looked at her to find that she was foaming at her mouth. I rushed out of the house to get a 'doctor' that lived in the neighborhood. By the time I came back she was no more. The 'doctor' said she had a massive heart attack. We didn't even get an opportunity to take her to a hospital.
The whole neighborhood started coming over. I didn't know how to react. I looked at my dad, he was staring at me. Both of us clueless of what'll happen next. I've never seen my old man cry but that day, he did. The situation demanded me to do the same but I couldn't, I was unable to comprehend what was going on. Tears sure did come but not then, it came after a few days when I accepted the gravity of the situation and felt her absence. I cried like a bitch.
I remember she used to have a small basket with some masala and seasoning, which is used in the preparation of a betel leaf. Half a leaf after every meal of the day. My whole maternal side is the same, bit of a betel leaf enthusiast.
While traveling it didn't matter if one misses out on bringing the tickets but there'll sure be some betel leaves in one of the bags. Even as kids, us cousins knew it was a bad habit but we got free sauf, (mouri) every now and then as a treat and we never complained.
My grandmother and my aunt are still continuing the family trait, smuggling betel from one house to the other.
I called my dad, he didn't pick up, must have slept off.
He gets tired after an entire day's work. During the vacations when I'm at home and there's no sleep, I close my eyes and just lay on the bed. This is the time when I hear him get up at 4 o'clock sharp, take a bath and light up incense sticks to the 'GURU' my mom used to follow. My dad personally takes more heed to logic than religion, but I think he wants the day to start with the same ambiance as it used to, however, it was never so early, to be honest, cook for the day, eat his breakfast and drive off to his office in Gamahria. He never mentions it, but yes getting over his wife's untimely demise sure was hard on him, more than anyone else because now he had to take care of a lazy child single handed too. It was his life that took the maximum amount of turn. It's tough man! the life of a single parent sure is tough. I owe him a lot and I've got no clue if I'd be able to do all that he does, with such devotion.
At home, I usually get up at 10, after he's gone. I get up to a silent room which remains the same until he returns from work. We have the junk food(samosa n stuff) that he brings for an evening, watch the telly, talk for a while, have our dinner and go to sleep. The evening schedule hasn't changed a lot, we are just running short of one more team member who used to participate in the same.
Moving out was helpful, now my dad has a little less to worry about me and for me the break from a monotonous room was healthy. The silence of the room still remains somewhere inside. A place I visit at times when I need to.
I won't say I've forgotten her voice, I'd still recognize her if I hear it right now from some corner. She had a very distinct laugh and I'd pay anything to hear it back again...but wait, what am I doing here. I have a logo to finish and you have to go visit the jubilee park.
Happy founders day, Jamshedpur!
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