Rashmi's Space

The schools would’ve given the timetable for the term-end examination and studies would’ve started in earnest. Monsoon would be well into its second full month, and there would be frequent showers, accompanied with strong winds. Afternoons would pass doing homework in the muggy weather, with tube lights on in the living room to battle the darkness and gloom brought on by the rainy days. I can still smell the petrichor mingled with the fresh Camel Ink I would fill in my pen to write with… And in the middle of all this, would come one festival, that made all this bearable and more – the Gauri Ganapati festival! Celebrated with aplomb in Maharashtra, especially Mumbai. Weeks before the actual arrival of Ganapati Bappa, preparations would begin at home. It would all start with visiting a shop (the same shop for ages!) to pick out the Ganesha idol we would eventually bring home. And then would start the cleaning of the house from top to bottom. Sweets would be prepared, fruit...

The sound of the raindrops hitting the window panes in a quiet residential part of a small town is so different from that in a big city. That is the thought in her mind now, as she looks out of her kitchen window. The trees around her property are thick and dark as they stand drenched in the heavy downpour. It is the second day in a row that heavy rains continue to lash their area. She has heard in the morning on the radio that the rain will continue for a couple more days. It is good, she thinks, that she has just picked up her groceries, having moved in only a few days ago.       From the small gap in the trees, she can see across to the blue-walled house, just as she could see as a child. It is drenched too. The creepers outside its kitchen wall making a brave attempt at holding on through the heavy downpour. She can see its kitchen window clearly from here. How amazing, she thinks, how few things change over a period of time, although everything is chan...

The train stops. She looks around. It is a big station, large and open, nothing like the big city railway stations that she has seen. This station is surrounded by lush greenery as far as the eye can see. There is a chill in the air. And a sense of belonging. She breathes it in, deeply.  She walks towards the end of the platform to the foot-overbridge that will take her out of the station. A few taxis and auto rickshaws are lined up near the exit, and she hires one at random. The driver helps her stow her one bag near her feet, while she sits to one side of the wide seat, as if she is sharing space with someone. Because she is used to taking up only so much space – always in a corner, trying not to make her presence felt. Now as she thinks this, she moves a little towards the centre of the seat, as if to affirm to herself that she is now travelling all by herself, for the first time in her life. You wouldn’t really know it now, to look at her, but she is scared out of h...

It all began when the little one turned five. We owned a home in a wonderful locality town side, from where the little one’s school and the husband’s office were only a few kilometers away. We had been living there since the little one was barely a toddler and it was just the place a young couple like us needed. But being lucky enough to have found a place to live that was within a half hour’s distance to anywhere that mattered was such a huge blessing (especially considering Bangalore traffic) that we did not think that the place was entirely wrong for a child! And so it was, that when the little one turned five and the time came to let him go out to play, we realised it was time to build our nest in a different tree. So the husband and I spent hours scouring the many possibilities, but as is always the case, the wallet wasn’t always happy with the choices the heart made and the heart did the same when the wallet decided to steal the show. So after a lot of (vir...

I am on vacation this week. Okay, strictly speaking, my little one has school holidays and I am at Mum's; having a wonderful time despite working from home! Travelling over the weekend, I was totally stressed about the work week and how I was going to manage work and meet my deadlines. The only blessing was that I knew I wouldn't have to worry about my little one during this time. But I also knew I would be working through the week, much to my parents' dismay. But then again, what choice do we worker bees have! And so it was that the Monday morning dawned after Christmas. After my brother left for his work, me and my little one had breakfast with Mum and Dad; and then, even as they were still chatting, updating me on the status of my various cousins and aunts and uncles, trading latest wedding gossip and generally bringing me up-to-date on the family trivia, my little one got busy sketching and I fired up my laptop. I could see the sadness on Mum's fa...

This is a sponsored post for Quaker and was first published on MyCity4Kids.com  If you have grown up anywhere near Mumbai, then as a child, you are sure to have visited the hill-stations of Mahabaleshwar-Panchgani! During the summers when Mumbai would be blazing in the relentless Sun, most people would escape to the closest, hill station of Mahabaleshar which would not only provide us the much needed respite from the heat, but also give us one of nature’s favourite berries – the strawberry! Mahabaleshwar in April-May is brimming with strawberries, mulberries, raspberries; and no matter where you go, you are served with fresh milkshakes, ice-creams, jams, jellies, fruit-salads and what not with fresh strawberries and cream toppings! As children, this, and of course, the horse rides on the Table Land, were the highlights of the vacations spent in these rolling hills! The deep pink berry with pits on the outside was a rarity for the middle-class working background childh...

It was raining heavily. What had begun as a little drizzle yesterday had turned into a steady rainfall by night. Today had dawned bleak and grey, and there were reports of flooding in most low lying areas of the city. This was precisely why Nysa was forced to stay at home today. Might as well , she thought; as the water droplets rolled down her bay window. I better make the most of this forced shut-down she thought. I’ll check out the box today, she decided. She was supposed to clean out a box of memorabilia sent to her by her cousin last week. Her grandmother had passed away last month and this box contained the items she had left Nysa. She went into the spare bedroom to retrieve the box her cousin had sent her. The first thing that caught her eye, was the name “Auwa” written in bright red marker by her cousin. The word meant ‘mother’ in Kannada, and Nysa remembered her grandmother had always been called Auwa – by her children and by her grandchildren too. Looking at...