Uncategorized: Birthday Wishes life changing project Mother-daughter relationship Pratishtha Durga random thoughts Sunita Shrotriya
by Pratishtha Durga
It was my birthday this Sunday, 22nd May. I brought it in with a few friends. There was food, beer, home-made Tiramisu. And lots to remember. Another year got added to my age. Another year went by. Another year of experiences gathered. And now, I have a year less to do what I need to do before I die. The clock just keeps ticking. I see how time is running out, for everyone around me. I see people cling to their dreams, unable to jump, afraid there won’t be a net to break their fall, afraid to take off, unable to fly. I am myself suffering from post birthday blues, and my view of the world is a bit negative right now.
Why must I have such different dreams? Dreams that go against the grain of normal living. Dreams that might become a loved one’s nightmares. Why can’t I want a house, a big car, a huge bank balance, just like everyone else? Why can’t I see clearly what needs to be done? Am I missing the signs? How do you know if you are making the right choice? Shouldn’t I be thankful that I have the luxury of choices? No one around me is truly happy. They seem to have everything I think will make people happy. And yet, they are unhappy. So what truly is it that I seek? Is there a map, a recipe, an equation? And where is the time to look for all the answers when another year has been lost?
I am so tired of all the questions. Am I even asking the right ones? Phew! I am getting old, God. Show me the way fast. I don’t want to lose any more years. Do questions bother you too?
Uncategorized: Birthday Wishes Dealing with grief Lifein2suitcases Sunita Shrotriya
by Pratishtha Durga
Today is my mother’s birthday. 15th March. The very first time in my life when I cannot call her, wish her, send her a hug, and wish her health and long life. The very first time when I woke up in the morning with an all consuming emptiness and an unbearable pain in my heart. A hole is left where she used to be. But I don’t want to remember her like this.
I want to remember the not so perfectly done cakes in old pressure cookers, which we devoured like they were from the best confectionary shop in the world. I want to remember the soft, pastel colored saris, and her long, thick hair, as she played hide and seek with me. I want to remember her playful eyes, as she stood right outside my school’s gate, waiting to take me to the latest movie. And I want to remember sitting next to her, sipping Pepsi that had run out of fizz and popcorn that had long given up the crunch. And those were the best times of my life. Mom, young, zesty and beautiful… That’s the way she should be remembered.
It’s not like she is all gone. A part of her remains with me. Sometimes, I have to try really hard to feel her within me, and on some days, it comes easy. When I can feel her, all around me, part of me, with me, within me. And those are the days when life seems easy, when all will be well with the world, where destiny will conspire to make me be the best I can be. Those are the days when I can forget that the truest love in my life, that of my mother, is no longer there.
Today is the day I want to cut an eggless cake and share it with those I love. Today is the day I want to wear a sari and step out. Today, I want to celebrate her, and what’s left of her, even if it’s just a handful of memories. Because memories really are our signature, left behind on the world we live in, in the minds of those we have come in contact with. Today, I want to celebrate my mother. Happy Birthday, Maa!