Dreams.

When was a kid, my dreams were about chocolates, dolls or Tom & Jerry. And after some years it went upto Super Mario, tree houses, fairies, secret gangs and mysteries.

As years passed, instead of doll houses I dreamt of high heels and sleek mobiles. And SRK replaced Mario. Cycle turned to scooter and cartoon times upgraded to girly gossip calls.

Now in my twenties also I'm dreaming... about achieving all my professional positions, business and social ventures, travelling around the world, owning a huge library and what not.

But once I met a person, actually quite a few people, who's oldest and only dream was to erase the darkness in and around their eyes and see the world in front of them, atleast once. Their dream was to see the deep blue sky, the dark wood of a tree, tear shaped raindrop or what actually colors look like. Their dream is to see the world, the people, their family, his own face with his own eyes...

... But for that they need someone's help. Someone should hold their hands and take them to their dreams. Can't we do that? Can't we help them to see this world?

Donate your eyes and organs.

Once dead our eyes and organs are not going to be of any use to us. So why not donate them instead of giving them to destroy with our body. Gift them to someone who really deserves it and who's going to take good care of them. 

http://www.onemilliondonors.org

I seriously don't wanna miss been the part of all those robotic and techno nave changes of the future, after my death. So to see the world, experience the future even after our last breath, I pledged to donate my organs. Yeah, I know it's pure selfishness! ;)

How about you people?

If you wish to bring change to a person's life... follow the link below the picture above. 

This was written for Write Tribe Festival of Words from 8th-14th Dec 2013. 

Today's theme is "Dreams".

Ruhi.

" Everyone's a shade of gray, but in some people the dark side is so more dominant than the white. "

She knew in her heart that this was not right. She was brought up as a responsible kid, so her mother had always told her what was happening around the world. So the moment it happened, she knew it was wrong.

Ruhi was a ten year old bubbly smart girl. One and only child of her parents. Their heart and soul. Not only their's, the minute one talks to her, they fell in love with her. She always had a smile and huge talks for everyone. She was a happy child.

Ruhi's house was a two storey building and the upper portion was rented out. Recently only some youngsters in their twenties, came to live there. They all were from good families and with reputed jobs. Amit was one among them and he was a people's person. Soon he became favourite to Ruhi's parents. And Ruhi also saw a big brother in Amit. And he became her Amit bhai.

One fine morning on a festive day, when the house was beaming with festive mood, aromatic with good food and flowers and Ruhi who was glowing proudly in her new dress was asked by her mom to take 'Payasam' to the above tenants. And Ruhi ran upstairs with the sweet, also to show her new dress to Amit Bhai. When Amit saw little Ruhi, he gave his million dollar smile and called her inside.

The TV was on. And Ruhi was shocked to see what was playing on it. Before she could ask anything, she was squeezed to the wall by her Amit bhai with his body, which was huge on the little one. His lips were on hers and his hands wandered all over her. She could smell cigarettes in his  breath and his tongue tasted like venom. She felt disgusting but couldn't even budge a bit. She wanted to scream, but her mouth were sealed with his. She wanted to push him away, but her hands were held strongly by him. 

The little one cried for her mother .... Hearing that thinking her mother was coming, triggered him to move. And that moment she ran from there. Reaching home, Ruhi locked herself inside the washroom and vigorously splashed water all over. She started scrubbing her lips so hard that she bruised herself. But even then, he couldn't get rid of his taste in her mouth and the wriggling feeling all over herself.

She was lucky enough to get away before the worst happened. And looking at herself in the mirror, she didn't knew that like many million children, she was also abused... but only understood that something very bad had happened with her.

Even before entering into the real world...

Even before getting to know the people around her...

Even before trying to fly out...

Even before blooming into a flower...

Her innocence was destroyed.

******

When there's so much of beauty and happiness in this world, a few people like this is more than enough to destroy our trust in mankind. It hurts even to think that it would happen to my daughter/niece/any little girl I know any time, anywhere. And "Amit" would have been my son or anyone dear to me. If such an incident happens to someone else in the world it might makes us sad, angry or creep us out of our skin but, if it happens to our people it might destroy us.

P.S. Don't know if it was way too much to hit "publish"... and it took me some time to post this. Know this is a very common issue nowadays but ever since I heard this from "Ruhi" wanted to write it down here.

This was written for Write Tribe Festival of Words from 8th-14th Dec 2013. 

Today's theme is "People".

Reality...

" In deep inside her there dwells a person with me

There's a wild beauty in his name

Sometimes he engulfs me with his presence, leaving no space for my loneliness

And sometimes he leaves me alone, giving me time to be myself...

But whatever, I could never forget him "

Scribbling down always used to settle her wandering mind. It was like a tonic to her mood swings. But today nothing was working out. She was feeling restless from morning. It's been a year since they parted their way and even now she wish to travel back to time to bring him back from death.

I am taking part in Festival of Words by Write Tribe from 8th-14th December 2013. The theme for the day is "Travel".

Blessed.

She wondered what was going in Mia's head? Even when near she felt faraway in her own world. In that world of hers what's happening? Is it different from ours? Or is it a child's dream land? 

Right from childhood Mia showed interest in music. She would be in a state of bliss when they played any melodies. Her mother thought maybe her child was musically gifted. But little did she know that even when Mia could hear everything around her, she would never able to utter a word and her brain had stopped developing when she was in her womb itself. And that shattered her world. 

But after all these years, the truth got registered in her. And now despite the odds, seeing her child completely immersed in music with a beautiful smile she felt blessed.

               I am taking part in Second Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th-14th December 2013. 

                                                           The theme for the day is Music. 

With Love.

Dear,

I hated you at first when Mom cut down my play time and dumped me wuth you. I picked up you with a frown. But with each turning page I could see the pictures coming live as if it was pure magic.

As years passed, I discovered more of you. Felt as if the words engraved in you were only meant for me and I didn't want to share you with anyone else. It broke my heart when someone ignores you or makes a tear on that glossy face of yours.

You were always there for me. As a kid, when I missed family you took me to another world full of wonderful people and showed their life. When I was sulking away you made me laugh with your jokes. When I was cramping my head for exams, you were my power breaks. And when I had to travel alone you kept by my side whole through the journey engulfing me in your presence and  even saving me from some snarling talks and looks.

There are times I wonder, if it wasn't for you, would I have ever loved my fellow human beings as I do now. Or will there be a tugging of heart when I see a homeless child. Or understand the loneliness of the world. No! You made me read their mind and that made me live their life through your words.

And if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been writing this too. You made me fall in love with you and the power of writing. Thanks for changing my world and making it more beautiful. Thanks for taking me around the world even when I'm snuggling in my bed.

A day without touching you, without drowning in your smell and passion is a day lost.

Always in love with you,
Me.

              I am taking part in Second Write Tribe Festival of Words  8th-14th December 2013. 

                                                    The theme for the day is Books. 

Encounter with Tomatoes.

In boarding school you'll be always monitored by someone. Been a Convent School it was nuns for us. We had two in-house matrons but other nuns also used to come down from the convent for minding us for each section like study time, recreation, dinner and all. We were suppose to maintain pin drop silence during dinner time and even a giggle from one could get scoldings to the whole girls and a complaint will be reached to our matrons which will cost our Sunday movie. And wasting food was never an option. If anything is served on your plate you have to eat them all. Crying and whining just makes the situation bad. But we girls will somehow sneak them to the dustbin... (that's another post) :D

I was never fussy about foods. Even the little dislikes I had regarding the veggies was sorted out when I landed in boarding school. But nothing could make me eat tomatoes. I like their flavor but as raw or cooked its "yuck" for me. So even from pizzas or sandwiches you could see me getting that one tiny piece of tomato out.

Now there was a nun who might be in her twenties then, beautiful yet very strict and we nicknamed her "Kaduva" (malayalam) which means "Tiger". Whenever she comes we could say "Kaduva varune odiko"... (Tiger is coming. Run). And this particular day she was in charge. Our food were actually good. We never had much complaints regarding that area. There'll be a veg and a non veg dish everyday. And this day for dinner the veg was tomato curry. I can't eat this thing and can't even dump it of course Kaduva will tear me up and my friend who shares the table with me doesn't like veggies at all. You should have seen my face at that moment.

Anyways I finished my dinner except for the curry and didn't know what to do. With all the courage I went up to the nun and showed my plate. She gave me one look and said,  "Finish off that curry or else you're gonna sit here the whole night". I was back in my table. And was looking down at those slimy veggies who was making my life a hell at the moment. I was a boarder from 5th and this was in my 9th grade. All these years I had a tag of "Girl who never cried" and here I'm on the verge of tears all cos of tomatoes in my senior year.

By now the mess hall was half empty except for the small ones. And the nun decided to come and sit next to me to make sure I don't waste food. I took a spoon of curry along with a glass of water and gulped down. It took me almost 4-5 glasses of water to finish that single tomato curry. And when she saw I was done she gave a smile and gave me permission to leave. How I hated her and tomatoes that day!

Uff! That was my encounter with tomatoes and a tiger. :D

I am taking part in Second Festival of Words by Write Tribe 8th-14th December 2013. The theme for the day is Food. 

Memories ...

Going down the memory lane always brings so much of smiles and tears and remind us how far we have travelled. Prompts always make me blank. And when this prompt was given I wanted to this that  and everything but the only thing that came up in my mind was my childhood memories. So why not have a walk through some initial years of my wonder years...??

******

Most pampered child (Three years old)

Dad was working for Spinney's in Sharjah. And every evening mom, sis and me used to go to the nearby church and on the way back we stop at the shop and from there Dad could join us. Now been the child of a senior employee there, I had full privilege to roam around the place without anyone questioning me but instead could lavish all the love and pamperings as little kids of all the "uncles" were back in their respective countries. And the sweetest memory was marching up and down chocolate filled racks as if feeling I'm the Princess of some chocolate Kingdom! No wonder I'm still obsessed with these. 

The sweet child became a wailing child (Six years)

Except for Dad we all shifted back to Kerala and I joined a Convent School which was at walk-able distance from my house. And there was whole gang to accompany me to school everyday as there were so many students and teachers as my neighbours. But I hated going to school. I couldn't accept the concept of spending the entire day in school as I was used to have classes till noon. So every morning religiously I cried wailed loudly from home to school even without bothering that I was walking through the main road. All in a single hope that mom could show sympathy and let me bunk school. But Mom's never do that! Sigh! Like that I became the "crying child" of that residence. 

Wailing child got her first enemy (Nine years) 

Relocated again. This time to Doha. Place, school, friends, home..... everything was new and fine except for..... Hindi! I never had that subject/language to study. But in Indian schools in ME they teach that from KG so by the time you reach your 4th grade you're excepted to be fluent in the language. And here I'm who doesn't even knew the alphabets was given fiction, non fictions and poems to learn. Exam started and when the marks came I was among the toppers till Hindi the Villain came. I gloriously failed. Was given extra coaching but I started hating the subject. My hatred was so strong that I couldn't cope up. The day the year got completed I announced, "I'm going back to India to my old school". Mom got dumbstruck. Relocating again was not even an option. And they were like "If you're going, you should go alone and stay in the boarding" .... but do you think the stubborn Goddess in me could listen. No way! 

How the enemy changed her life (Ten years) 

Joined back to the Convent School. I desperately wanted to kick myself when my Dad actually said goodbye and went off to the airport after settling me in the boarding. 

"What the hell was I thinking? Aren't they my parents? Can't they not let me go?" These were going in my mind and eyes were twinkling with tears. But pride in me could never let my Dad see my tears. But during bedtime every ounce of stubbornness and pride melt off. I cried myself to sleep as it was my first day away from home after my birth. 

And I officially declared Hindi as my enemy that day cos it ended up me in a boarding school when I was so happily growing up with so much of pamperings! 

But I actually enjoyed my years there, despite the initial homesickness. And it's a place I still miss so dearly cos it made me so independent that Mom didn't even allow me to go away from home town for college. ;)

All these were tucked deep down in the memory threshold and even when we miss our past the treasure chamber called memories let us relieve them once again. 

"Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading."  —  Kazuo Ishiguro (Never Let Me Go)

I am taking part in Second Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th-14th December 2013. The theme for the day is Memory/Memories.