Rashmi's Space

"... na kahin chanda, na kahin taare... jyot ke pyaase mere, nain bechaare... tarapat, tasasat, umar gawayi... poocho na kaise maine rain bitayi..." An old melody. The twilight hour. Strong, bold notes. An older voice. On his evening walk, he passes the gazebo in the park marked Senior Citizens Area, he cannot help but stop a moment and listen as the elderly man finishes his rendition of the timeless Mohd. Rafi melody. As soon as he is finished, there is a smattering of applause and smiles and nostalgia all around. He finds a smile spreading across his face automatically. He knows this song. He has heard it on Vividh Bharati several times as a child, when his own father, who now would be close to the singer's age, would put on the radio in the mornings and late in the nights. The old man doesn't sound like a trained singer, more like an enthusiast; but his wonderfully clear voice rings out in the failing light making the evening mesmerising, ma

It is later than usual today. The day has already been overcast and now the twilight hour seems darker than usual. Maybe, she thinks as she presses the 'down' button for the lift, maybe she should turn back, not go down for her walk... But she can't. He has already left, she knows. He would be waiting for her. And when she doesn't turn up at the usual place at the decided time, he would worry. And then who knows what he would do. They haven't even discussed what to do in such a scenario. She makes a mental note to tackle this problem at the first possible opportunity. But for now, she better get down there. As she gets off the lift on the ground level, a gust of wind hits her, making her eyes water. She is immediately worried about her thin hair flying haywire. She has always been self conscious, as if everyone is watching her, judging her. This is exactly why she doesn't go for walks like regular people. And that 'run' that she has read so man

He stands in a strategic place, where they can see him clearly. He reaches there earlier than they are expected to arrive; dressed casually, for work. Although, it wouldn't matter whatever he chose to wear. It is not his attire that matters to them, nor his attitude. In fact, anyone else in his place would command the same respect in their eyes, and the same reverence. He knows this. And it doesn't bother him. He isn't here to earn their respect or their loyalty. Because he knows, they will come to him, no matter what; as their loyalty is to his speciality, to what he can offer them. As he watches, they come. Some alone, some in groups of two or more. There are many couples. Some children; although, this is increasingly rare these days. Some days, he sees foreigners come too. And many times NRIs! They are the ones with a lot of specific demands. Almost always, ladies come to him. No matter who else comes, the ladies definitely come. The rich ones, the not so pro

When people ask me what I do, I tell them I am a blogger, a writer. The immediate next question, of course, is “what do you write?” And I say I write on positive parenting, among other things. So they say, oh great, a lot of people are writing about parenting these days, it makes for interesting reading. And I say, but I don’t just write about parenting, I write about positive parenting. There is a difference. (Which reminds me of an advert from my childhood: ____ hot and sweet tomato chilli sauce, its different!) Cheesy, I know, but it is true. There is a difference. All parenting is not positive parenting. But all positive parenting is definitely good parenting. Parenting There was a time when “parenting” was not a term most parents bothered about. Take a look at