The New Terror

When a child walks out of the house to go to school or to play, every parent will, consciously or unconsciously, worry about their safety. The dangers in the outside world are on the rise, and till they return, the anxiety runs high. Maybe it is latent because of habit and routine.

A five minute delay can have one looking at the clock.

An adult - especially a stranger - talking to the child can send alarm bells ringing.

Snacks offered by strangers - an absolute no-no.

Crossing the road alone? Wait, the child is not old enough.

Commuting by public transport? Hmmm... Maybe in a couple of years.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

How early do mothers, whose children become suicide bombers, decide that their children are old enough for the job? Are they there when the trainers tell the innocent children that they will not die, only those around will? Do they also believe in it?

Or do they die before sending their children?

Killing with Kindness

For some space, peace and silence. No solicitous enquiries, no being taken care of, no benign watching over.

And then walks in a friend, a relative, a neighbour, with good intentions, wanting to give you care, help you tide over the period.. They genuinely care. This is their moment to show they care. They think you need the care.

But do you? Are you ready for it? Even if you beg to be spared their kindness and they insist? Are you being ungrateful or the caregiver being a pest?

It seems like an ego trip for the care-giver, an opportunity to show off, or a way not to feel guilty that they did any less. And it seems as if your independence, your privacy is gone.

Can we thrust care down someone's throat just because they are down, out or we think they need it?

If we keep a distance, will they think us uncaring?

If we ignore their offer for care, are we a snob?

Is it just a perspective, yet another puzzle in human relationships that never fits?

Also on: Perspective

The New Goddess

He elects her to power. He is willing to fall at her feet. He does her bidding. Even better, he would like to do it before she bids him to. He wants to be seen close to her, to know her pulse, to know every thought.

He wants to be the queen's right hand man. He celebrates her victories and mourns her defeats - more than she does. She treats him like worm, he loves to squirm in front of her to please her. She calls him an idiot, and he is joyous for that one kind word. It shows she knows him.

He worships the very ground she walks on. He calls her his mother, she is his goddess, she is the queen of the land.

He can bear every scathing look, every harsh word, every humiliating moment, for he has a vent at home - his wife and his daughter.

Also read: Worshipper of Goddesses

Growing Up: Part II

My son was my daughter's shadow. Even if he was surrounded by other friends, he needed her to take him down, be around, include him in her games and bring him back home safely.

She was a little mother, even if complaining sometimes, willing still.

Then he turned 5. And he announced, "You go down, I will follow. Tell me where you will be."

I had been panicking that he will end up playing girly games, that he will only have girls for friends.

Today, he doesn't care if she is there or not. He goes down and comes up on his own. Plays with older boys, and complains he gets out quickly in cricket. But he is thrilled to be with boys.

But he is suddenly a little man. A rowdy, more like.

When my daughter grew up: Growing Up

Smile, Some More

It is like the Sun
parting the clouds
After a gloomy day.

It is like the rain
pouring down
After a long hot day.

It is like meeting
A friend from past
After many years.

It is like eating
mother's cooking
After trying others.

It is like finding
the road one sought
After meandering in alleyways.

It is like catching
the train that's leaving
because one got delayed.

A smile is a balm
heartening and warm
on a tiring day

A smile is all
one needs to see
to make one happy and gay.

The Blessings

He toiled day and night. When he was given the pay raise, he felt it was well-deserved.

He toiled some more. When he got his promotion, his colleagues congratulated. He knew many thought he had licked his boss's boots, but so what if it had required some diplomacy? After all, there was no reason for him to fight his superiors. And, hadn't he really bagged the three prestigious orders?

When he married the boss's daughter, people winked. His life was made, they sniggered. He had won her fair and square. The two had fantastic affinity and were made for each other. He learnt to ignore the sniggers.

His children went to the best schools. He made sure they went to the right classes and their talents well honed.

He looked at his bungalow in the city, his Benz, his family and his position with pride.

He had stepped up the ladder one step at a time. But his toil, his hardwork, his intelligence had brought him here. He thought it was time to take it easy and let the younger ones do the work. His record was enough for him to grow now.

Winds of change blew across the company. A new management wanted a young, dynamic team - a team that was hard working and smart. He was sure his contribution would be noted.

He saw his junior step over his shoes to become his boss. He felt a knot in his stomach. He met his seniors and showed his track record. He expected he was in for a bigger bonus, a bigger, cushy role.

He was shifted to another city. He had to fend for himself - look for a house, a car and a good school. His children decided to stay back, his wife thought it best to be with them. The bungalow was gone, but at least they could afford a big house here. In the new city, the cost of living was too high.

He entered his empty house and looked at the blank faces of his servants.

He went into his bedroom and the walls seemed to swallow him up. He felt his stomach churning, and finally, he looked up and cried out, "Why me, lord!"

But the lord thought the man knew his way around. After all he had grown on the merit of his hardwork and intelligence on his own!

The lord had other lost souls to attend to.

The Smile

Modestly dressed
Looking sweet and shy
The girl swayed
From side to side
Her hands tied
In fists that were tight

Fear and doubt
Clouded her eye
Young and small
She didn't know why
This stranger gave her the toy
And opened her arms wide

She turned to look up
At the matron with lips pursed
Even angry, she was
Her safety net
She looked again
At the stranger in vain

No memory of the face
Of familiarity, not a trace
But it was that one thing
That drew her to her
The wide smile
That said all is well.

She smiled back
And her face black
Glowed and lit up
Like a 100 watts bulb
She was no longer modest
But a beauty in disguise.

They ran to each other
Arms open wide
Clasping tightly
Knowing rightly
That god loved
Those that smiled
Not minding
The sorrows that blind.