Unsent messages III

Someone had put up a story

About her and a boy

She’d re-shared it

It was a congratulatory post

She was tying the knot soon.

We had a strange bond

Close because of a mutual friend

Distant because of a mutual friend

One of those kinds of friendships.

I wanted to congratulate her

It was a happy occasion

It didn’t require much thought

Just one word would do too.

I typed it out

With my usual exclamations

And happy smileys

But my finger hesitated

I just couldn’t press send.

What if things were still awkward?

What if it appeared fake?

What if it was ignored?

My mind was running a marathon.

Then again, I thought

What if maybe,

Just maybe

Old chapters could’ve been closed

New ones could’ve been written

Stronger friendships could’ve been forged

And the future, rewritten

If only, I had sent

That one unsent message.

Unsent Messages II

I opened Instagram the other day

A friend from high school had posted a story

It beautifully described her mother

It wasn’t a birthday wish

But a painfully poignant ode

A tribute to a parent – gone too soon.

I remember seeing her mother in school

Fit as a fiddle,

Free as a bird

Wearing a wide smile,

Having a good time

I wondered what had suddenly gone wrong.

I thought about writing to my friend

We’d known each other for a few years

We’d been in the same class,

Attended boring tuitions,

Even acted in a play together

But had lost touch after school.

Yet, I typed out a message

Wanting to know how she was.

The words were carefully penned

The sentences expressed concern

The emotions were genuine

But, I never sent it.

My mind went in circles

What if the pain was too raw

What if the message was a trigger

What if I don’t deserve to know

What if she doesn’t remember me

After all, we weren’t even close.

And yet, my mind wanders again

What if maybe

Just maybe

The pain could’ve been healed

The grief could’ve been eased

The nostalgia could’ve been pleasant

If only, I had sent

That one unsent message.

Unsent messages

It was just the other day

When I heard about my friend’s passing,

I was shocked & deeply saddened.

He’d fought a long battle

But victory turned him away.

My heart went out to his wife

I thought about writing to her

I thought about what to write

I fumbled for the right words

I even typed it out

But never sent it.

We were strangers

Who’d never met

Who’d perhaps, never meet

It wouldn’t have made any difference.

But then,

What if maybe,

Just maybe,

Everything would’ve been different

Everything could’ve been different

If I had just sent

That one unsent message.

I Baked A Mango Cake & Guess What Happened

Mango cake. Delicious, isn’t it? In this scotching heat, devouring a lovely slice of mango cake is nothing short of heavenly. And that’s why I thought I should whip one up for my sister’s lockdown birthday.

I had seen the recipe well in advance and bought the ingredients (arranged for the mangoes as well!). I’d even bought the cream for the icing to make it extra special. It looked like a simple, doable recipe so I said, ‘How hard could it be? Let’s do this!’

The Hospital

Musings and snippets about a rather unexpectedly long hospital visit. They’re short but not always sweet. And they’re published like a Sunday daily – once a week, except for a few special editions in between.

1

I remember listening to a line in a movie that said that the airport is one place where a person can see different emotions at the same time. For some reason, that line stuck on. And it came back to me when I stood in a hospital corridor, outside the Operation Theatre. The OT was on the same floor as the labour ward. In that moment, the hospital mirrored the airport to me. Grief, fear, joy, anxiety and relief seemed to exist all in one place. It’s sometimes hard to believe that all these emotions could change in a split second when the doors of the OT opened. Hopefully, for the better.

***

2

I had just got off the ambulance and was waiting for some of the bags to be shifted to the ward from the Emergency Room (ER) waiting area. There were three rows of seats and not one of them was empty. I decided to stand in a corner. I wondered how many people could be facing an emergency at the same time and end up in the same place. I saw a young man give up his seat for an elderly couple limping towards him. There was another couple that was just coming out of the ER. The man had a white bandage on the side of his neck. His wife insisted he get a haircut. It would make him look and feel better, she said. He didn’t seem too impressed by the thought and was more eager to get back home. I couldn’t agree more. A few minutes there and anybody would want to. Every person there was doing only one of three things – waiting to hear an update, talking to another loved one on the phone or discussing the gravity of the situation with the person next to them. It was fascinating to see how quickly one picks up medical terms when one’s own is affected by a condition. It was a strange place with a vibe that was unsettling.

Until that moment, I knew I wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, ambulances or emergency rooms. But after that moment, I was sure that the ER is most definitely not a place I’d visit if I was looking for a ray of hope.

***

GRANNY TALES 101: CHAPTER 11

This has been the longest break since I started writing these chapters. The last three months of 2017 saw me fill my plate with work, work and more work and that culminated in an ailing wrist [perhaps, not the best adjective, but for now, it’s alright].

I have a couple of stories planned already and I have been wanting to pen them down for a while now. Today, I decided to wait no longer. So here it is! It is a short anecdote but I assure you it’ll make you smile just like it made me. 

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 10

I seem to be starting every post apologising for a delay in updating my blog. I have tried hard not to make it a habit but I seem to be failing at it. So from now on, I shall not apologise but assure you that my posts won’t be too regular but they will definitely pop up once in two weeks. So stay tuned for them!

When I narrate today’s anecdote, you’ll probably get an idea as to why my posts get delayed. A busy schedule is solely responsible for it apart from a very serious writer’s block that persisted for way too long. But without further delay, let me plunge into telling you one of the sweetest stories of all times.

When I was working as a journalist in a newspaper organisation, my professor from my postgraduate college wondered if I would be interested in taking up part-time teaching. I had to teach the software used for designing newspapers to print journalism students. I contemplated on it for a while for I was unsure if I could manage that along with my long hours at work. I had just started to get used to the routine [which was already taking a toll on my health] and I didn’t think I could juggle the two. Strangely, just a few days after the mail arrived, one thing led to another and my department changed to from editing to reporting office. This meant my timings were slightly different, giving me room to teach. So, after consulting everyone in my family, I agreed to become a teacher. I kept my boss informed and all was well as one schedule, fortunately didn’t interfere with the other in any way.

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 9

Our workshops are finally over so I should be able to write a little more frequently. It’s a warm, bright Sunday morning and I am up relatively earlier than usual as I barely sleep much these days. But today, I woke up with a more positive vibe than the past few weeks and that makes me happy. So I thought why not pen down my thoughts about dadi? I’m beginning my day with a sweet anecdote.

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 8

Hello there! Moving at a rather slow pace this month with all the workshops that we are conducting. But can’t deny that dadi is always at the back of my mind. The tiniest of things remind me of her and after a smile you just tear up thinking that those moments will never return. What keeps you going is knowing that it all happened. She gave us a repository of memories that we can cherish and smile about so that she lives on in our life even after her passing.

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 7

A hectic week has ensured I don’t write frequently. This month is bound to be that way since we are conducting art workshops in Chennai.

Since that is the primary thing on my mind at the moment, today’s story is about Dadi and my studio. My studio came into existence only since May this year. It was all my dad’s plan. He wanted to make a space for it and gallery too. And once Papa has made up his mind, there is no looking back. Nothing can change his decision. In hindsight though, most of these decisions have been for the better making me eat a humble pie.