We keep trumpeting our own talents but we never realize that there are equally if not more talented persons who are too shy to display their hidden talents to others. This is a special poem by a special friend and a great human being! Keep writing Little :)
People say i have grown up!
But no - I say I have not grown up!
I still hold my Dad's hand, while crossing the road,
Because it gives me a sense of security.
I still like to put my head on my mother's lap,
And listen to her lilting lullaby,
That puts me to sleep.
For me that's the world's best bed and music ever.
I still like to argue with my sister,
Over the choice of my clothing accessories.
It's gentle sisterly bickering, and that's how-
We care and love each other.
I still cry after fighting with my brother!
And then wait for him to come and comfort me.
Because I know in spite of all our differences,
He is the world's best brother!
I still chase butterflies in the garden,
And am scared of cockroaches and creepy lizards.
I love dressing up my Barbie dolls,
And playing with my cookery=set toys.
I love getting drenched in the rain,
And eating lollipops and ice-creams and blowing up flavoured bubblegum.
I love sketch-pens and colouring books!
I love playing with my doggie Miku-
And hug her when I feel lonely and sad!
I still judge people on the basis of the birthday gifts that they give me!
I crave for the same dress and hair-pin that my friend has!
I still like to do all these things,
That I did when I was a kid.
So I conclude - that although others may call me a grown-up -
I want to remain fourteen - FOREVER!
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Monday, February 06, 2012
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
In the Name of My Father-2
Years of alcohol abuse and he continues to drink on the sly even after the doctors have warned him. A broken family, an unhappy childhood, a mother who was forever sad but nevertheless continued to toil and stayed with her brother practically doing every task in the house so that her children would not suffer. I continue to wonder at my mother's inner strength.
My father never managed to stick to one job for more than two years. The sole exception being his 18 years of service in the Indian Navy. If not for my two uncles I would have been on the road-begging to survive.
I feel like slapping my father and holding him by the scruff of his neck and ask him-"Why did you do this to us you bloody....! What mistake did my mother do to bear this tortured life? What was my crime to have suffered such a psychologically painful childhood?"
He shamelessly continues to pretend to be a great devotee of a plethora of Gods and yet drinks, utters lies, and torments us psychologically. People often ridicule me for being cynical and negative in many of my actions. I guess my father has a big role in the negative traits of my character. One good thing that his actions have done is my absolute hatred for alcohol! I am 27 and yet to have a beer!
Oh Lord! Give me patience, one of these days I am really going to end up slapping my father! His latest fad is to pretend that he is suffering from a big heart ailment and he needs to have a big surgery done. I have taken him to two different cardiologists and all they say is that he has to stop drinking and nothing else is wrong with him. He is staying with my sister and he is feeling the heat there as he is afraid of my brother-in-law who is a strict disciplinarian.
He cannot go out to drink and he feels his freedom is stifled. The only solution that I see now is to get him admitted to an alcohol deaddiction centre. But I am sure once he gets out of there he will start drinking again.
How am I ever going to find a solution and with this messy state of affairs, how am I going to find the courage to move ahead and start looking for a life-partner!
Life is too complicated!
Death is an option for the weak!
Is there a state in between?
My father never managed to stick to one job for more than two years. The sole exception being his 18 years of service in the Indian Navy. If not for my two uncles I would have been on the road-begging to survive.
I feel like slapping my father and holding him by the scruff of his neck and ask him-"Why did you do this to us you bloody....! What mistake did my mother do to bear this tortured life? What was my crime to have suffered such a psychologically painful childhood?"
He shamelessly continues to pretend to be a great devotee of a plethora of Gods and yet drinks, utters lies, and torments us psychologically. People often ridicule me for being cynical and negative in many of my actions. I guess my father has a big role in the negative traits of my character. One good thing that his actions have done is my absolute hatred for alcohol! I am 27 and yet to have a beer!
Oh Lord! Give me patience, one of these days I am really going to end up slapping my father! His latest fad is to pretend that he is suffering from a big heart ailment and he needs to have a big surgery done. I have taken him to two different cardiologists and all they say is that he has to stop drinking and nothing else is wrong with him. He is staying with my sister and he is feeling the heat there as he is afraid of my brother-in-law who is a strict disciplinarian.
He cannot go out to drink and he feels his freedom is stifled. The only solution that I see now is to get him admitted to an alcohol deaddiction centre. But I am sure once he gets out of there he will start drinking again.
How am I ever going to find a solution and with this messy state of affairs, how am I going to find the courage to move ahead and start looking for a life-partner!
Life is too complicated!
Death is an option for the weak!
Is there a state in between?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
In the Name of My Father.......
"Father" a word that means a lot for everybody. Someone who is one's role model and superhero during childhood. There are so many things that come to one's mind when one utters the word "Father."
To me my father was just an individual of whom I did not have a clear picture at all. I hardly ever saw him. He was in the Navy and then on contract jobs across the Middle East. He was maybe for one year with us-when he took a break. Other than that it was just my mother who took care of me. Later when he left for Muscat we moved to my maternal uncle's house in another city.
Gradually the image of my father faded from my psyche and it was replaced by the strong and contrasting personalities of my two maternal uncles. One was a strict and silent disciplinarian the other was a jolly man full of life always ready to crack a joke.
At the tender age of six or seven I failed to realize that my father had drifted away from us. As I grew up and adolescence brought in all its doubts and confusions, I realized that I was part of a broken family. A couple who were never meant to be together had been joined in matrimony by fate. By the time they found out their incompatibility it was too late and the offspring-my sister and me bore the brunt of their failed relationship.
My sister was twelve years elder to me and she was at my elder maternal uncle's house from the age of ten. She was a sensible child and was hardly perturbed by the conflicts that I underwent.
No one knew where my father was, sometimes we would receive a card from some remote corner it would be a notification that he was still there. It was both mocking and reassuring. Years passed my sister was married and my father made a fleeting appearance so that no tongues wagged from the groom's side. Then he went into exile once again-this time he left for Delhi.
Two weeks before my sixteenth birthday my uncle received a long letter from my father. My father wanted to start a life with his wife and son afresh. He had found a job in a small firm in Chennai and he promised to look after us.
As that academic year came to a close two train tickets arrived by post and finally the two of us reached Chennai and met my father. It was not exactly an emotional reunion. Years of suppressed anguish and feelings of hatred did not erupt immediately.
As the days progressed I realized that my father had a serious drinking problem. It was this alcoholism that was the primary cause of all problems. The problem continues till date. There were verbal-fights at home, swearing, threats, and all kinds of mental torture.
It did not help that my mother was always waiting to pick on my father. Not a single day passed without a fight.Ten years have passed since we rejoined our father. His tryst with the bottle continues, the number of verbal fights have gone down, but the mutual feeling of anger, frustration, and a strange sense of hatred fuelled by incompatibility continues to haunt both my parents.
I wonder what went wrong. What did my mother do to deserve such a life of torture? Why does my father continue to drink? Why do I continue to hope things will turn right? Why did we return to my father?
These are questions that will remain unanswered.
My marriage is on the cards. The astrologer is confident that I will be engaged in 2009 and by February 2010 the marriage will take place. Looking at the history of the failed marriages that I have witnessed the problems that so many of my friends and relatives have faced and are facing. I fear that I have lost faith in the institution of marriage.
If I indeed do get married and have kids. I hope that I can be a good father and an ideal role model for them.
"Father" a word that means a lot for everybody. Someone who is one's role model and superhero during childhood. There are so many things that come to one's mind when one utters the word "Father."
To me my father was just an individual of whom I did not have a clear picture at all. I hardly ever saw him. He was in the Navy and then on contract jobs across the Middle East. He was maybe for one year with us-when he took a break. Other than that it was just my mother who took care of me. Later when he left for Muscat we moved to my maternal uncle's house in another city.
Gradually the image of my father faded from my psyche and it was replaced by the strong and contrasting personalities of my two maternal uncles. One was a strict and silent disciplinarian the other was a jolly man full of life always ready to crack a joke.
At the tender age of six or seven I failed to realize that my father had drifted away from us. As I grew up and adolescence brought in all its doubts and confusions, I realized that I was part of a broken family. A couple who were never meant to be together had been joined in matrimony by fate. By the time they found out their incompatibility it was too late and the offspring-my sister and me bore the brunt of their failed relationship.
My sister was twelve years elder to me and she was at my elder maternal uncle's house from the age of ten. She was a sensible child and was hardly perturbed by the conflicts that I underwent.
No one knew where my father was, sometimes we would receive a card from some remote corner it would be a notification that he was still there. It was both mocking and reassuring. Years passed my sister was married and my father made a fleeting appearance so that no tongues wagged from the groom's side. Then he went into exile once again-this time he left for Delhi.
Two weeks before my sixteenth birthday my uncle received a long letter from my father. My father wanted to start a life with his wife and son afresh. He had found a job in a small firm in Chennai and he promised to look after us.
As that academic year came to a close two train tickets arrived by post and finally the two of us reached Chennai and met my father. It was not exactly an emotional reunion. Years of suppressed anguish and feelings of hatred did not erupt immediately.
As the days progressed I realized that my father had a serious drinking problem. It was this alcoholism that was the primary cause of all problems. The problem continues till date. There were verbal-fights at home, swearing, threats, and all kinds of mental torture.
It did not help that my mother was always waiting to pick on my father. Not a single day passed without a fight.Ten years have passed since we rejoined our father. His tryst with the bottle continues, the number of verbal fights have gone down, but the mutual feeling of anger, frustration, and a strange sense of hatred fuelled by incompatibility continues to haunt both my parents.
I wonder what went wrong. What did my mother do to deserve such a life of torture? Why does my father continue to drink? Why do I continue to hope things will turn right? Why did we return to my father?
These are questions that will remain unanswered.
My marriage is on the cards. The astrologer is confident that I will be engaged in 2009 and by February 2010 the marriage will take place. Looking at the history of the failed marriages that I have witnessed the problems that so many of my friends and relatives have faced and are facing. I fear that I have lost faith in the institution of marriage.
If I indeed do get married and have kids. I hope that I can be a good father and an ideal role model for them.
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