Wall to Wall- Eye to Eye

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”

My walls at home are bare- in my room that is. I am not a picture person and moreover, I do not know how to nail pictures into walls. My walls are made of concrete and require hard drilling in order to make a hole.Moreover I live in a home provided by the government which I would not like to desecrate with nail holes.

Given the chance I would like to decorate my walls with inspirational teachings, good lessons for life from great people or from ordinary people, daily planners, lists and the like.

I am not fond of pictures or photos as they bring back memories and I do not like to hang on to memories. Memories remind me of the life I have left behind and what I cannot have once more.

Time moves on.

An ode to my love

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cupid’s Arrow.”

25 years back, you came into my life,

Though at that time, I scarce did know it,

Being only 17 years of age at that time,

And not at the age for love by our culture.

Years later, when you became mine,

You told me that you had seen me and touched me,

During a Mantoux test you had given me

On my forearm as part of a research study

For young medical students.

This incident skipped my mind but it blows me away today.

Later, during my 4th year of college, you came back to my life

And made a full scale proposal to me.

And still I refused you being only 20 years at this time.

I am amazed at your persistence that has made me your wife today.

Two years later, my father approached your father

In a strange twist of fate,

For your hand to take care of mine.

In a totally unimaginable manner.

I became yours that day 22 years ago.

There have been many twists and turns in our lives since

But through your skillful handling of all the crises

You have not let a single one of these

Confront or attack me head on

You lead me by example and guide me through life.

And I accept your guidance because you have lived longer in this world and

Above all, you love me and I love you too !

Of Pride and Prejudice

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Proud.”-When was the last time someone said they were proud of you ?

I have often been called ” proud” and arrogant and snobbish. So it is not often that I can remember someone having said they were ” proud’ of me. Of course, I haven’t done things of which others can be proud of me. More often it is as if they are ashamed of me.

For example, when I resigned my job about two years back on a matter of principle and my personal ethics, most people called me “nuts”. Many were ashamed of me- many people did not want to know me any more. I thought it would be easy to get another job but I learnt the hard way that it was not possible to get a job, as good and as well paying as the old one. Yet, I was proud of myself- proud of standing up for what was right, standing up for the truth and standing up for myself.

I hesitatingly told my elder daughter that I had quit my job. She has often wanted me to work and stand on my own two feet and not be dependent on others’. It was with trepidation that I told her, I had stopped working. In the beginning, it seemed to me as if she was going to criticise me like many others.

I was surprised when she told me,” Ma, I am so proud of you- proud that you took a stand for the truth and proud that you were willing to throw up a good job without thinking twice about the consequences and above all, proud that you are my mother !”

From the most unexpected of sources, I felt like I was understood and that what I had done was worth it. At least someone was proud of me !

Visit to a country church

About 2 weeks back Sunday, I went to a small country church at home. It has been ages since I attended a service there. It is the church to which my husband’s family goes- so I have been there but rarely. So I do not have any memories of this church.

This day was different. For one thing, both my daughters were with me and my mother in law too. My husband had not travelled with us, so he could not attend.

The one thing that I could remember was the light- there was so much of light pouring in through the large open windows- a dose of healthy sunshine pouring in . I sat near the window in the ornate pew and stretched out, basking in the sunshine.

Men and women sit separately in this church. I had almost forgotten that it was this way, as it had been so long. Women seated in front of me and behind me tried to talk and make friends, both before the service and after. They asked me ” who I was”, ” with whom I had come”, ” who were my relatives in the church” and so on. So many questions but I didn’t find any of them funny or odd or even intruding. In fact, I thought of them as quaint- as quaint as the church itself.

Today I suddenly thought back on my experience with fondness. I was reminded of my old church that I used to attend with my grandparents when they were well and alive. It was a long walk over hills and valleys, visiting relatives on the way to church, that made Sunday mornings so exciting there.

I don’t like to visit old memories any more – because my grandparents are no longer alive. Perhaps the old church is still there but my grandparents’ aren’t. I think often of them but am saddened. I know I will meet them someday, but sometimes it seems as though that day is so far away !

Thank you, but I think not.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “No, Thanks.”

There is a place in the universe,

Which I would not like to visit,

And that would be my past,

And things that have long come to pass.

For me the past holds painful memories,

They are events that took place

That seemed never- ending at that time,

But have been etched in my mind-space.

That would do me no good to visit again.

And so it is that I would like to look forward,

To new days’, and new beginnings.

For what is past is finished and can never be brought back,

But the future is in my hand,

In which I can mould, make and stack new memories.