Rashmi's Space

It was 9:30am. The family was having breakfast. Priti poured out coffee for herself and the husband; and milk for sonny boy.  The husband sat at the head of the table, reading news on his smartphone, absently sipping his coffee. Sonny talked animatedly about the game he had played with his friends this morning. He’d taken two wickets, he informed them; and then all the boys had chatted, he said, sitting around on the lawn, sipping from their water bottles, cooling off.    “What did you guys chat about” Priti asked. “Oh, this and that,” sonny said. “Sharav saw that latest Avengers movie this weekend, and he was telling us all about that. Sandy went to watch the IPL match at the stadium yesterday, only to have the game abandoned due to rain! But then he got to see what the groundskeepers did to clear the rainwater and shit…” “Language,” “Sorry…” Priti smiled. “What else?” “Oh, you know Pranav? He went to this tea estate with his famil...

Every house has a routine. Every family has a routine. The husband does a few things, the wife does a few; and the daily grind goes on, like clockwork. So long as everyone sticks to their jobs, and does them perfectly, things go right. Kids reach school on time, adults get to work on time, and all is right with the world. Of course, as simple as it sounds, it also sometimes gets monotonous with everyone just doing ‘the same old.’ And every once in a while, the thought does occur – what if, say, one day the husband did the cooking and the wife drove the kids to school? Wouldn’t it be great to just drive, with songs on, drop the kids, and on the way back, listen to one’s favourite songs? Ah, what a blissful hour that would be! What’s more, there would be hot breakfast ready, thanks to the husband who would have been busy in the kitchen while the wife was out driving and listening to songs – I mean, dropping the kids to school… And then, some days, the smooth clockwork ...

“Don’t run on the lawn!” Meera looked up from her laptop. It was Sunday morning and while Meera caught up on her mails and other news, Pari, her niece, and Ayah, Pari’s caretaker-cum-nanny-cum-companion-cum-governess were in the garden. Ayah was pruning the roses, while Pari was jumping around the garden and playing in the shade of the orange trees lining the compound wall. All the time, trampling over the lawn that Ayah had freshly watered – hence, the reprimand. Meera smiled. Ayah was good for Pari. She ensured that the girl kept her head on her shoulders despite being a ‘gifted’ child of above average intelligence, who was ‘pampered’ and ‘spoilt silly’ (according to Ayah) by Meera. It felt just like yesterday – although it was almost close to nine years now – that Pari and Ayah had walked into Meera’s home, and her life. Meera’s sister had died giving birth to Pari. Pari’s father had never been around. And thus, Meera had become the sole legal guardian to her...

"ओळख पाहू ही  कोण?" मी आईच्या हातातल्या फोन मध्ये डोकावलो. फोटोत एक तरुणी, सायकल वर स्वार, ट्रॅक पॅन्ट आणि टी-शर्ट  घातलेली, कॅमेऱ्याकडे पाहून स्मितहास्य करीत होती. "अरे पाहतोयस काय नुसता, ओळख ना कोण आहे ही." पुन्हा आईने विचारले. मी मक्खपणे मान हलवली. "मला नाही माहीत."  "अरे, हि नमिता! छत्र्यांची!" "बरं..." "अरे बरं काय? तुझ्या शाळेत होती ही! नर्सरीत तुझा डबा खायची बघ? आणि तू उपाशी, रडत रडत घरी यायचास..." नर्सरीत ही मुलगी माझ्या वर्गात होती, इथपर्यंत ठीक आहे. पण ती मला रडवीत असे, हे कशाला महत्त्वाचा होतं, कुणास ठाऊक. "आता हिला ओळख..." "अगं  आई काय तू..."  "हे बघ, प्रिया, अनघा, अगदी तुझ्या पक्या चे सुद्धा फोटो आहेत माझ्या फोन वर!" आई अभिमानाने म्हणाली. "पक्या?" "पंकज पाध्ये रे, नववीत तुझ्या वर्गात होता तो? तो थायलंड ला असतो, बरीच वर्ष झाली आता. एक दोन वर्षात कॅनडा ला शिफ्ट व्हायच म्हणतोय." मी आ वाचून आई कडे पहातच राहिलो! माझा हा नववीतला मित्र, माझ्य...

“This is how you make it, isn’t it?” She smiles. Yes. She watches as the chutney, made exactly the way she makes it, is being taken out to the table where the men are having their breakfast. “What’s with the new chutney?” says Appa “Try it, it is a new recipe,” says Amma “I tried, it’s nice; very tasty, that is why I asked.” “Hmmm. Good, you like it then.” It has been over a decade. Her’s was a match made in heaven (and college). But her in-laws took time to realise that (the heaven part). And till they did, they kept reminding her about her ‘outsider’ status and her ‘other’ness and how she was ‘different’ from them. For the first six months, she wasn’t even allowed to touch any cooking. Only cleaning the kitchen and the vessels afterwards had been her job. She wasn’t supposed to touch any food preparation, especially the food that was prepared for her husband. By the end of the year, she was promoted to helping with the cutting and peeling of vegetables...

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...

Image:  Designed by Freepik "प्रिय पालक, तुमचा मुलगा जेवणाचा डबा न संपवता मधल्या सुट्टीत खेळायला जातो. बाईंनीं वर्गात थांबून डबा आधी संपवायला सांगितले तरीही ऐकत नाही. तरी आपण त्याला ताकीद करावी कि अशी वागणूक भविष्यात सहन केली जाणार नाही " बाईंनी चिट्ठी पाठवली. "मम्मी, सही करून देशील?" माझ्या लहानग्याने विचारलं. मी चिट्ठी वाचून त्याच्याकडे निरखून पाहिलं. माझ्या रंगवण्याची, ओरडण्याची, तो वाट पाहत होता. मी म्हटलं, " अरे, तुझ्या टीचर ने आधीच नंबर लावला कि! मीच तिला चिट्ठी लिहिणार होते खरं तर, कि माझ्या मुलाचा डबा अर्धवट घरी परत येतो, 'तरी प्लीझ तुम्ही लक्ष द्याल का, म्हणून!" एक मिनिट पूर्ण शांततेत गेला. आणि मग आम्ही दोघंही भरभरून हसलो!

Fathers are so important. No? Maybe some people may not agree with me when I say this. Because, after all, what is it that a father can do for his child that a mother cannot do? Right? I agree. A mother can do everything for the child, from providing for the child to nurturing the child in the best way possible. She doesn’t need a man to complete her, not in this day and age. No. But for a moment, let us come away from this man-woman debate and think in a different vein. Think of the fact that there’s no life without a father, literally as well as figuratively. Okay, if that is too cheeky, how about this: The mother gives birth. We all venerate the mother who undergoes insufferable pain to bring her child to life. But the father? Isn’t the father as invested in the baby as the mother is?      It is the mother that undergoes labour pains. She is the one who actually undergoes the entire birthing process. A physical pain beyond compare. But her world is...

This is a sponsored post for Eureka Forbes AeroGuard and was first published on MyCity4Kids.com It was just a few days back that our social media feed was full of articles about severe air pollution in our capital city. We were all shocked when the Government declared the 'Delhi air pollution' as an emergency and schools were shut and construction work halted as harmful pollutants reached levels that were more than 16 times the safe limit! Hospitals in the city reported increasing number of patients suffering from respiratory diseases (of which India already has the highest rate in the world – with 159 deaths per 100,000 people even as early as in 2012 according to the World Health Organisation). My little one came home from school one day that week saying they were told the news in their assembly that schools in Delhi would be shut for a week and demanding to know why. I told him it was because of the air pollution the city was facing and the smog that refused to...

Sharada was ready. Just before stepping out, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. A lovely lady in her fifties, wearing a gorgeous traditional silk saree stared back at her. She was wearing a glittering bindi and had even tried on the new lipstick her niece had given her for just this occasion. She wore a handful of gold bangles and bracelets, studded with diamonds to match with her necklace and earrings; she also wore toe-rings that peeked out with every step she took – understated toe-rings that spoke nothing of the fact that they were custom made, just for her. Sharada smiled at her reflection, and just before the thoughts caught up with her, decided to move on. Now was not the time to give in to those thoughts.   It was time to go downstairs and join her husband Ram, in welcoming their guests for the evening. Today they were giving a grand reception to her youngest daughter-in-law. Funny how the mind works, she thought. Most people wouldn’t put it this wa...

The rain just wouldn't stop! And to add to that, cars were jammed in every possible direction right ahead of him. As Rayan tried to maneuver his Honda through the mess, he spied a harried traffic cop, struggling to manage the chaos but failing miserably. Just then, a mini-bus scraped a Toyota ahead of him and all hell broke loose! Already worked up, the drivers jumped out of their vehicles, itching for a fight; and most of his fellow motorists honked in protest; some even got out of their vehicles to try and stop the brawl.   Rayan looked over at Rishi, his seven year-old sitting in the passenger seat. “Doesn’t look like we can get out of this anytime soon,” he said. “Do you want to hear some music?” he reached out for the radio. “No.” Rishi said, and continued to stare out the window. Rayan sat back, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He continued watching his son from the corner of his eye. Something was amiss, he realised. Rishi was awfully quie...